Tia unconventionally blinks at me when I narrate the day's events to her. Her green eyes flutter behind her thick lashes. I observe her in my mirror while I decorate my eyes with black eyeliner, creating a butterfly effect on the sides.

"Oh my God, Cynthia!" she suddenly exclaims, getting up from my bed and covering her mouth with her hands. "You were challenged by Ethan Drake! How can you be so okay after that?"

She looks visibly speechless, not a surprise considering the way she has had a crush on Ethan Drake ever since he came on the front page of Forbes magazine. She has made him her idol and wants to follow his path to success when she opens her own digital business.

The doe-eyed creature even has his public appearances memorized from morning to night, which makes me wonder if she would have been his perfect assistant instead of me. She is even prettier than I am. Maybe she would have been a better choice.

Her black dress hugs her curves, and behind her temporary glasses, there is a sweet, heart-shaped face with milky skin and full lips as she stares at me wide-eyed. Her brunette hair hangs loosely over her shoulders, framing her face in gentle waves.

I, on the other hand, am dressed in a simple white crop top with full sleeves and a royal blue skirt, which doesn't stick to my curves as hers does. My hair is in a half-updo, unlike hers.

"It's nothing much, Tia." I drop the eyeliner back in my make-up box before turning to her. "That man is not the idol you make him to be. He doesn't even know how to conduct a proper interview! I pissed him off, and that's why he gave me the job."

"But you got to meet him!" Tia contradicts, making dreamy eyes at the ceiling. "And Cynthia, he is so handsome. God, I wish I were in your place."

"Your opinions would have changed," I remark, picking up my sling bag from the bed. "Besides, you're lucky you get to do your dream job. I mean, Digital Manager for Bright Media? Hello, that's huge!"

"But my boss isn't some handsome guy I would drop my panties for in a second. He's a half-aged dude with an eternal growl plastered twenty-four seven."

"And my boss has an eternal scowl on his thirty-one-year-old face. That's disturbing. I don't know what it would cost that man to smile once in a while. I never saw him smile."

"For real, Cynthia. Your hormones are too strong for my taste. If I were in your place, he would have had me in one go. The way he lifts his eyebrow towards the media is always a classic signal," Tia comments, following me out of my room.

"Won't deny that. He does have very angry eyebrows."

"Oh, I forgot to ask you." She turns to face me with a strangely serious look on her face as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Why didn't you tell me that our lease has been paid in full? I thought it would be months before that happens. Now I owe you."

I go still at her words. I completely forgot about the lease. There is no way he paid for that, too. He promised me he would stop interfering.

Tia and I bought our apartment on a lease six months ago after we graduated with our business degrees. We were both lucky to have stumbled upon each other on the day of the viewing of the 2-BHK space. Since we both loved the space and didn't have enough to get the full apartment, we ended up making a deal between ourselves.

This was how our friendship started, and as of now, in this big city called LA, she is the only one I am close enough to call a friend. I love the girl like anything to lie to her.

But the lease? I can't tell her the truth.

"Oh yeah..." I shake my head awkwardly. "Yeah, I paid in full. You don't have to pay me now, don't worry. I got some money saved and decided to get the burden off our heads."

"But you could have at least discussed it with me, Liz," Tia complains. "This makes me feel so bad. I would have contributed from my savings too."

Unable to decide what to say, I go for the option that makes me not look like a sacrificial lamb.

"Well, you can just pay it to me." I shrug. "Anyways, let's not talk about it now. You wanted to go to the bar to celebrate, and we'll be doing just that. Not speaking of apartments and leases."

She gives me a pointed look, which makes me suspect that she, in turn, suspects something fishy. I keep a giant smile on my face as she studies me with inquisitive eyes.

"Fine," she says after a while. "But I'm paying you soon."

"Can't wait," I grin shamelessly, hiding from her the fact that I didn't pay anything at all.

He did.

***

The bar we go into has a plethora of customers, and the usual standard area has been converted into a club where the music is jamming at its highest. People are crushed against each other, grinding and kissing and licking. I wish I were here to do that with someone. It has been such a long time since my last asshole boyfriend.

Matt had been all fun and nice - sunshine and rainbows - until he had ended up slapping me in a fit of rage. In return, I had kicked him in the balls so hard with my heels that the dude ended up in the hospital for a week.

I have never been that satisfied with choosing violence.

Tia grabs my hand, pulling me to the end of the bar and towards the counter. We find two empty stools and quickly claim our seats, slapping our hands at the counter to call out for drinks.

"Sex on the beach!" we both shout, making the bartender, a charming young man, smirk as he prepares our drinks.

When he places them near us, we grab the glasses and clink them together.

"Here's to new jobs and asshole bosses!" Tia makes a toast, swallowing a long sip of her drink.

I follow her, wincing first and then drinking in the juicy feeling.

"Oh Gosh...I love this place," I remark, pulling Tia to the dance floor with me.

We dance together wildly, twisting our bodies and bobbing our heads. Men stare at us, and we admire the attention, letting our hands seductively run through our bodies. The lights mingle with blue and red, creating shadows on the floor.

"I'm so happy for you, Cynthia!" Tia shouts, letting the people around us know how happy she is.

In here, nobody minds our loud mouths and ludicrous moves. Here we are free from the constraints of life. This night is ours, and we are going to make the best of it.

Or at least that's what I think before a large figure walks past me, making me nearly stumble, but before I can lose my balance, two strong arms grab me by my waist, pulling me firmly against a hard chest.

"Thank you..." I smile as I look up, and the smile falls instantly.

With a tall body, sturdy muscles, and a suit without creases, Ethan Drake's hardened face stares down at me with eyes so piercing blue that I gulp immediately, my eyes darting to find my friend, only to see her in the arms of another guy as they both dance together.

"Miss Lucas..." His grip around my waist tightens as he pulls me firmer against his chest, encasing me in the protection of his arms when two young boys pass us. "What are you doing here, dancing alone?"

I rest my palms on Mr. Drake's chest, holding the lapels of his suit as I gaze at him.

"I'm not alone, Mr. Drake," I reply. "I came with my friend."

"And where is your irresponsible friend, may I know?"

"No, you may not."

His expression hardens, but his eyes sparkle with mischief I have already become used to. Using the force of my hands on his chest, I push away from him, quickly wrapping my arms over my chest. Mr. Drake's gaze immediately drifts down to my top, where a V-cut neck gives a glimpse of my cleavage. He moves past that area of my body and looks at the crowded dance floor.

Frowning, he puts a hand on my elbow, holding me gently and ushering me to a less crowded space. His touch makes my flesh give birth to goosebumps at the heat between us. I try to pull my elbow from him, but his hold is tough to break.

When we stop facing each other, he puts his hands in the pockets of his dress pants and stands tall.

"Miss Lucas, you should know better than to waste your time partying tonight. Tomorrow is your first day at work, and unfortunately, you seem to be already disappointing me."

"We're not in the office."

He narrows his eyes at me. "That I can see."

Dark lights dance over his face, giving his roughly handsome visage an even more handsome look. He is dressed in the same clothes I saw him wearing at the office, but he has changed his Lucas watch for a platinum-plated one. It shines bright, and one can easily guess that it costs thousands. A man like him should be visiting richer bars, not a common one like those visited by any other LA citizen.

"Want me to buy you a drink, Miss Lucas?" he asks.

"You're offering me a drink? After all that happened between us?" I raise an eyebrow in speculation.

Mr. Drakelets out a growl or a laugh, I can't distinguish at all.

"Miss Lucas, believe me, nothing scandalous has happened between us..." His eyes fall to my outfit again, curiously sliding up my legs. "Yet."

My skin flushes, heat filling me and making me increasingly aware of how close we are. He has his one hand on my elbow still, and his eyes are fully concentrated on me. I see his face darken as he registers the closeness, too.

"Hmm...I think I'd rather choke on a melon than sleep with you, Mr. Drake."

His eyes widen, and he releases me quickly, looking embarrassed for a second.

"What makes you think I was talking about sex, Miss Lucas?" he says calmly. "I was only referring to all that might happen between us tomorrow once you apologize to me in front of my whole staff."

I laugh at his confidence, putting my hands behind my back and staring up at him.

"Mr. Drake..." I begin. "I'm never apologizing to you, and neither will I be disappointing you that easily. This job will be mine permanently, no matter what you try otherwise."

"That confident, Miss Lucas?"

I smile, taking a step closer and raising my hands to his chest. His body tenses when my fingers brush up his suit until they find the top-most button of his white shirt. I release it from its hold slowly and then move my fingers down to release another. The first glimpse of his chest becomes visible, a light dust of hair scattered over a taut torso, and I crane my neck towards his face.

The air around us tingles with tension, the epiphany of our closeness holding us in place, eyes locked to one another.

"Never learned to be anything else, Mr. Drake. Now, if you'll excuse me. I need to go to the washroom."

As I turn to leave him, I catch a glimpse of his handsome face where the lips happen to form just an illusion of a smile as he watches me walk away.

The bathroom mirrors reflect five faces of myself to me, showing me exactly how flushed I am after that encounter with Mr. Drake.

I know somewhere that I am crossing my lines more than necessary by challenging my boss one night before my workday. So far, from our two conversations, I have managed to figure out that Ethan Drake has five different kinds of scowls.

Unfortunately, they all look the same, and they are all present on his face all the time.

This man has managed to make me more nervous in a span of twelve hours than I have been my whole life. Heck! I wasn't even nervous when I lost my virginity to Braden Taylor in 10th grade.

I sigh at the mirror and then turn the tap on to wash my face. I don't care about my makeup anymore, and if I keep myself adjusted, I will end up drinking some more, and a hangover isn't a good thing early in the morning of your first day at work. If I look worse, I will feel more comfortable leaving.

The cool water releases some tension in my nerves, and when I lift my head back up, my makeup is mostly washed away, bringing my many freckles visible to the eyes. Everything has been washed out except for the waterproof eyeliner.

Thank Walmart for that, too.

Releasing a sigh, I open the door to the washroom to step out. Loud music greets my ears, and I see people being even more drunk and crazier than they were when I left the floor.

I look at the crowd to search for Tia and see her making out with a guy on the dance floor. From here, he looks kind of cute, and I don't want to interfere with her make-out session. Grinning at her luck, I take out my phone and type a quick message to her before sending it.

He's cute. Great catch.

I'm going home.

As I put my phone back into my bag, someone collides with me pretty hard, sending me crashing against a nearby wall. I see spots for seconds as my vision darkens.

"Hey, watch out!" I yell, holding my head as it spins.

The person who collided with me turns. He looks big, old, and completely drunk. He even has his saliva dripping down his mouth to his beard, and is carrying a bottle in his hand.

It's disgusting.

"Fucking bitch! Standing...in the way," he growls at me and steps forward.

I instantly back against the wall when he steps closer and extends an arm to grab me.

"Hey! Move away!" I try to walk past him, but he blocks my way and brings his smelly, drunken face close to my own.

His hands are on my arms, hooking into my neckline as he tries to tear it open.

"You'll do for tonight," he slurs, dripping booze down his mouth.

I try to reach for my sling bag, where I always carry pepper spray, but his body pushing against mine leaves me without space. My arm is crammed between his body and the wall, and the pressure of his weight knocks the breath out of my lungs.

I don't even realize when I start to cry, but as I push against his chest hard, I find fat tears moving down my cheeks.

"Let me go!" I sob, crying against his assaults.

No one seems to be coming to my rescue. Everyone is drunk, and it is late, and my best friend is lost in kissing. No, this can't be happening. I can't be getting raped in the middle of a party.

As the man reaches for the hem of my skirt to push it up, a hand slaps on his T-shirt, pulling him off me in one swift force.

I gasp, feeling the relief of his body being lifted from me before my sight clears, and I see the person who saved me.

Ethan Drake pushes the guy against another wall, and as I watch, his fist comes up, hitting the man hard against his cheek. The force is so strong that the man falls to the floor, slurping and becoming unconscious within a second.

"Oh my God!" I exclaim, unable to believe that someone's one punch can have so much power.

I look up at Mr. Drake as he releases his hold from the guy's T-shirt and corrects the creases in his suit like a gentleman. A few drunken people who had been paying attention to the scene cheer at him before walking off.

He turns to me, and I find his strong gaze keeping me rooted in place.

"Miss Lucas, are you okay?" he asks, taking a step toward me.

"Yeah...I think I am," as I speak the words, my head hurts, and the floor beneath my feet rocks.

I stumble, falling, but his arms catch me, and before I can stop him, Mr. Drake is scooping me up in his arms swiftly.

"Hold on, Miss Lucas. Seems like you have got a concussion. Would you like me to take you to the hospital?"

I don't know what he expects me to answer because my brain has completely stopped functioning. From here, I can only see his deep eyes gazing into mine with concern and the feel of his hand under my bare knees. The skin burns so much at the heat of his contact that it feels like I would be left with an imprint of his hand tomorrow.

My arms are around his neck, and I am unconsciously staring at his lips.

"Miss Lucas?" His deep voice knocks me back to my senses, and I look around us to see the floor completely packed.

No one is paying attention to either of us or to the man who is knocked out flat on the floor.

"No, thanks..." I blurt, my voice sounding lazily drunk. My cheeks flush in embarrassment. "I'd like to go home, please. Would you call me a taxi?"

I request him as if it is a casual favor from a stranger and not from someone who is literally in his arms. My mind is too dizzy to ask him to put me down right now. Don't know what other morons I will end up encountering if he does.

Mr. Drake looks at me darkly and then he adjusts me in his arms, such that my head is lying on his shoulder. With a strong flex of his muscles, he begins walking while I shamelessly lie as a caterpillar in a cocoon. My hold around his neck tightens, bringing me close to his musky scent of beer and sandalwood.

He walks us out of the bar, but instead of calling for a taxi, he begins to carry me towards a car.

An Audi

"Umm...Mr. Drake?" I murmur against his shoulder.

"Yes?" he asks, continuing to maintain that scowl.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Depends on where you live, Miss Lucas."

"Where do I live?"

He stops in front of his car at my question and raises an amused eyebrow at me. Even from this angle, the eyebrow looks angry.

Very very angry

"Miss Lucas..." he speaks calmly. "You've managed to get under my skin in the last twelve hours by insulting me, making fun of me, challenging me, and now getting wounded. Do you wish to piss off any further while you're literally in my arms?"

I press my lips to a thin line. What a rude man!

Shut up, Cynthia. This rude man is taking you home.

"I didn't ask you to carry me."

"It was either this or leaving you there to be trampled on by drunken feet. Would you have preferred that, Miss Lucas?"

"No," I huff. "Take me home."

I see him muttering something to himself as he pulls open the door to the passenger seat of his car. With his strong hands, he puts me inside, and his knuckles brush over the sliver of exposed skin of my belly when my crop top hitches up. We both inhale a breath, me out of awkwardness, him, I have no idea why.

He hooks the seat belt around my torso. Shutting the door, he walks around the car, opens the other side, and gets in. As he starts the engine, he takes another look at me, and his frown deepens.

He is either disgusted or troubled. I do believe it is the first. I look hideous.

"Which way?" he asks.

"Drive straight," I say, and then mumble the rest of the address as I lay my head back in the seat, closing my eyes.

The hum of the engine soothes me a little as he drives the car, and soon, I get lost in dreams with the quiet groan of the air coming through the open windows luring me in.

I open my eyes when the car stops with a jerk. Looking at Mr. Drake, I observe him as he gets out of the car and walks around to my side. I watch like a helpless child as he opens the door and stands there, still frowning at me.

"Will you walk or do I have to carry you again?" he grumbles the question out, taking a look at his watch.

I don't know what's gotten into me, but I end up smiling at him and lifting my hands in the air like a child.

"Carry me up, please."

My boss's eyes widen, his eyebrows raising as he takes my posture in. His face changes color for a second, turning a shade pink, but it doesn't miss my eyes.

"Should have taken you to the hospital," he murmurs. "You must have hit that head pretty hard."

He leans down to release my seatbelt. Hooking his arms under my knees and back, he picks me up into his arms again, and I lay my head on his strong shoulder. I swear, this man is made of hot muscles I would like to lick someday.

"Apartment 250," I tell him as he shuts the door and walks towards the elevator of our apartment building.

He keeps his hold on me tight as the elevator shuts and then opens again after some time, bringing my floor into view. I point towards my apartment when he steps out and hear him grumble something again as he walks towards it.

Absent-mindedly, I pull the key out of my sling bag and open the door for him. Mr. Drake enters the apartment and walks to the couch in the hall. He doesn't speak a word as he drops me flat on it.

The moment the soft cushion greets me, I twist and turn, feeling sleepy.

"When will your friend be back?" he asks as he takes hold of my feet and starts opening my heels with gentle fingers.

His touch is warm, making my toes tingle.

"She won't be back," I whisper, eyes shutting slowly. "She got a cute guy. She's going to get banged tonight."

I don't even flush as I speak the words. I hear a soft laugh and look to find Mr. Drake chuckling to himself.

So he does laugh.

"You've no control over that tongue, do you?"

I turn to the ceiling, smiling softly and then wider.

"No," I answer as Mr. Drake gets up and starts to unbutton his suit. "What are you doing?"

I suddenly become anxious, but don't find the strength to say something more as sleep starts to get me deep. He just shakes his head as he gets his sturdy arms out of the suit.

He leans down and places the suit over my body, smiling softly.

"Have a good night, Cynthia," he whispers close to my ear. "You have a long day tomorrow."

As if my body follows his orders too, I quickly lose myself in a deep slumber.

"Is she here yet?"

Martha looks up at me from her computer. Her face turns pale as she tries to put together my words into context. She has been working for the company for twenty years now, and no matter what promotion I offer her, she is satisfied with being my personal receptionist. The woman is kind and generous beyond anything, but she is also freakishly scared of me all the time.

The few times she heard me scold my employees during meetings didn't help with that.

"Who, Mr. Drake?" she asks, pinching her eyebrows as her eyes take on a look of thoughtfulness.

"Miss Cynthia Lucas. She goes by Cynth."

Even her name has a taste on my tongue. How is that even possible?

"I don't know, Mr. Drake," Martha sighs, standing up from her chair behind the counter. "I didn't see anyone come in today, and even if she did, she won't have an ID to enter this part of the office."

Yeah, she won't. I forgot about that.

Rubbing my jaw, I look at the clock behind Martha, which reads 9 o'clock. Surprisingly, instead of feeling happy at the fact that she has managed to disappoint me by being late on the very first day itself, I find myself hoping that she will come. There is something about that girl that makes me love the way she gets on my nerves. I like playing the cat to her mouse. It would have been fun if the game had lasted longer.

Disturbed by the thoughts, I start to pace in front of my cubicle, one hand on my hip and the other caressing my stubbled chin as I keep looking at the glass doors. There is no sign of her.

"One interview and she's already got to you, brother?"

I turn at the sound of the voice. My brother, or more like my mirror, Reece, is leaning against the wall beside Martha's semi-circular counter. He is dressed in a black button-down and jeans, his one foot resting against the wall as he crosses his arms over his chest in amusement.

Unlike Cynthia's pretty face, his manages to piss me off within seconds, and the fact that he is my identical twin who looks every inch like me pisses me off even more.

"Shut up," I growl at him, taking another look at the double doors. "What are you doing here?"

"Sarah called and said that a new employee was joining. I didn't want to miss your first interaction." Reece smirks, turning to Martha. "What do you think, Martha? Won't it be a show?"

The fifty-year-old lady just shrugs, ignoring his presence as she focuses on her computer screen again.

"Leave, Reece. No one wants you here. It's too early to go pissing people off."

As I rest my hands against the steel railing, peering down to see any sign of my new assistant, my brother walks towards me leisurely, hooking one finger in a pocket of his jeans.

"Try to be warmer, brother," he says as he rests his elbow on the railing and leans against it. "Sarah also said the girl's pretty. Maybe she's the one for me."

I move my eyes to him at his words, seeing in them the absolute fun he is having while toying with me.

"She's an employee, and you'd better keep your hands off her if you wish to remain with your limbs intact," I warn him.

He looks at me gravely for some time and then begins chuckling to himself. "So was Jeannie, brother. You had no problem bending the rules for her."

I clench my fists at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. Jeannie was the one who cut off our last thread of brotherly affection for each other. I know that no matter what Reece pretends to feel, he still feels violated by that night.

Before I can reply to his taunts, the double doors open. I jerk my head towards it, sighing in relief when I spot the familiar face of Miss Lucas stepping inside. She is in plain clothes, looking as professional as any of my other assistants. But unlike them, I find myself completely taken over by her look.

Wearing a deep red pencil skirt and a white blouse, she has her hair down in smooth waves, the length of them reaching her waist. Her lips are a deep red, the same color she wore yesterday during the interview. For someone I am supposed to despise, she is making my job rather difficult.

In her hands, she carries a Starbucks cup, a folder, and a large handbag. She stops when she sees us standing before her, her doe-wide eyes moving between my brother and me. She looks confused about which one is her boss, I guess.

"Miss Lucas," I say gravely with a voice I know she would relate to no one but me. "You're late."

Miss Lucas looks at me from Reece, her eyes twinkling with recognition.

"Good morning, Mr. Drake." She beams at me, walking three steps until she is craning her neck to look at my face. "Here's your coffee and here's your schedule for today."

She hands me the Starbucks cup and opens the folder. Her hands shake as she balances the file on one palm, flipping through it hurriedly. From the corner of my eye, I see my brother's eyes ludicrously moving down her body. He notices me watching and throws in a smirk.

"Miss Lucas..." I clear my throat, making our new employee gaze up at me from the folder.

"Yes, Mr. Drake?"

"You're late," I repeat.

She blinks, her eyes flickering to my brother again before settling on me.

"I'm not, Mr. Drake," she says, shutting the file as she stands with her determination firm on her face. "You must be mistaken."

I take a look at my watch and lift my wrist to show her what I am seeing.

"It's nine o'clock, Miss Lucas. You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes earlier."

She narrows her eyebrows, her full lips twisting to a soft frown.

"I was half an hour early, Mr. Drake. I came even before you did," she informs. "I didn't have the ID, so they stopped me at the gate and then stopped me again from entering here. After confirming with your manager, Mr. Khan, I was told to start my task asap by bringing you your coffee and entering your schedule neatly in this file. Only then was I allowed to enter here."

We all stand in silence. Even Martha's clicking on the keyboard stops as she stares at the girl while lifting her glasses over her nose. I do the same, adjusting my glasses and then trying hard to maintain my scowl at her.

"You should have sent Khan to inform me of your arrival, Miss Lucas, instead of being so irresponsible."

"Irresponsible?" She repeats in disbelief. "Did you really expect me to fight with your manager on my first day itself? What kind of reputation would I have had if I didn't give him the respect he deserves for working with someone like you?"

"Someone like me?"

"Yes," she begins. "Managing an obnoxious, unpleasant, and absolutely self-possessed billionaire must be quite the task for him every day. By the way you behave with people, you need to...oh wait a minute..." She stops and turns to my brother before continuing. "Mr. Drake, I suppose you're one too...Does the company policy state anything against voicing our opinions against our bosses?"

Reece looks at me with a wry smile before he focuses his attention on her.

"Nothing of that sort, Miss Lucas. May I introduce myself, however?" He takes a step towards her and extends his hand for her to shake. "I'm Reece Drake. I'm the twin of this jerk here. I hope you and I will get to see more of each other."

My nerves flare when I see Miss Lucas blush before she takes his hand and gives a shake.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Drake."

"Just Reece will do," he corrects her. "I myself am an employee of my brother. I'm the draftsperson."

"Oh." Miss Lucas looks impressed, not bothering that my brother hasn't let go of her hand still. "In that case, you can call me Cynthia, too. That's my name."

Reece smiles. "Nice to meet you, Cynthia."

As they stare at each other, I am left even more irritated than before.

"Enough." I break the abysmal conversation, pulling my brother back by his arm and letting him let go of Miss Lucas's hand. "Follow me, Cynthia. Let me give you a tour."

She murmurs an apology to Reece as she struts after me. I open the door to my office and hold it open until she steps in. Giving my brother one last glare, I shut the door behind us.

Facing Miss Lucas, I find her holding her folder against her chest as she looks around the room. From here, I can't help but follow the light from the glass wall behind when it shines over the curve of her bare legs. Her skin looks so soft, impeccably perfect. My eyes scan their movement upward, taking in her wide hips and waist until they move towards her breasts. But before I can lose myself in admiring them, she clears her throat, making me look at her face instead.

Embarrassed at having been caught checking her out, I rub the back of my neck hastily.

"Over here..." I walk past her to the other door, which opens to her own cubicle. "Have a look."

As I stand holding the automatic door wide open for her, Miss Lucas stares at the space between my body and the space left for her to enter. She swallows a gulp as she proceeds toward me, turning to the side and sliding against my body to enter the room instead of asking me to move away.

While she slides between me and the door, her chest brushing over my shirt, my free hand curls into a fist, and I bite my bottom lip, trying to ignore the need to touch her.

Damn. I'm attracted to this woman too fucking much.

The attraction has only grown since last night. If she were any other woman, I would have made the first move by now and had her between my sheets as I fucked her into oblivion. I feel the rush of blood to my cock just as a vivid imagination of Miss Lucas naked between my sheets entices me.

"Mr. Drake?"

I break out of the imagination when she clears her throat again, only to find her already inside her small L-shaped cubicle. It is a plain room with no furniture other than her desk and a succulent plant beside the door. I hope she finds it comfortable. My last assistant had many useless complaints, one of which was why the color of the walls wasn't purple.

"Is everything to your liking?" I ask her, still standing outside.

If I enter, the space between us would diminish, and right now, I feel horny enough to not make her uncomfortable with the sight of my bulging front.

"Yeah, it's nice," she replies and then places her bag and folder on the desk. "You left something at my apartment yesterday, Mr. Drake."

She opens her bag and takes out a very crinkled version of my suit from it. Without looking me in the eyes, she hands it over for me to take.

I stare at the crinkled piece of fabric and then at her, unable to believe her. Hesitantly, I take the suit from her hand, dangling it before my eyes to see how it has been destroyed.

"You could have at least dry-cleaned it."

"I thought about that but..." She looks at the floor. "It's an Armani suit, and I didn't have the money to dry clean it. Besides, I didn't ask you to leave it with me. You did that yourself."

"I was making you comfortable!"

"Well..." she coos. "I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have. Thanks for helping me last night, but I can't be doing unnecessary spending until I get my salary, which you promised you would once these thirty days are over, Mr. Drake."

"You've got money for drinks at the bar but not to dry clean stuff?"

She looks offended by my question. Her nose scrunches up as she throws a disgusted glance at me.

"My roommate paid for the drinks," she answers. "Half of my stuff is borrowed from her. I spent my last savings on the apartment because-" She stops herself from blurting out the interesting part of her narrative. She shakes her head, dismissing whatever she was about to say. "Forget it, Mr. Drake. You may cut the cost of the dry cleaning from my salary next month. I won't mind."

My jaw hardens at her excuses. She has managed to disappoint me finally, but this is the kind of disappointment I can't hold against her in a professional sense.

"Take a look at your routine, Miss Lucas. You've only thirty days to call this place home."

She gives a broad grin as I release the door of her office.

"Thirty days is enough for me to redecorate it, Mr. Drake," I hear her say before the door shuts with a soft click between us.