“Just …” I took a deep breath and glanced over my shoulder, making sure no one was eavesdropping. “I was summoned to the fortieth floor.”
Stacey’s eyes widened, suspicion creeping into her expression, while Brian leaned in closer, his interest unmistakable.
I felt a wave of discomfort at Brian’s curiosity and decided to downplay the situation. “Turns out, the feedback we give isn’t completely anonymous,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Imentioned I was unhappy, and they called me up to better understand my concerns.”
“You never tell the truth around here,” Brian said in a low voice, leaning even closer. “You could get fired for being honest. Just look at Adrian Wells from the platform team. A while back, Mr. Walkers changed the rules to not allow employees access to free soda and snacks at work. Well, Adrian complained, and he was let go on the spot.”
A shiver ran down my spine, and I looked at Stacey, who nodded grimly.
“It was one of the first decisions Mr. Walkers made when he took over.”
“The man is ruthless,” Brian said.
It was the reminder I desperately needed of the vast difference in our positions. Jonah had power—tons of it—and he wielded it freely, it seemed. I had none.
None of this had mattered during our night together. That night, I’d felt I could trust him, be myself with him in a way I hadn’t been with any other man in my life.
But Jonah wasn’t trustworthy. And I certainly couldn’t be myself with him anymore. He’d been a mistake. And judging by the way he’d looked daggers at me, perhaps he wasn’t just a mistake; he was my enemy.
9
JONAH
Iwalked into my living room that evening, feeling irritable. The room was as beautiful as always. A dazzling Baccarat crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and below it, a plush velvet sofa from Fendi Casa occupied the center with its deep burgundy upholstery.
The only unpleasant thing in the room was the person sitting on the sofa.
Cora, my father’s wife.
I was still torn and agitated after seeing Lexi. My mystery woman.
Desire had slammed into me the moment I saw her. Those luscious lips, full and inviting, grabbed my attention first. Then my gaze went to her bright auburn hair which was tied up in a ponytail, and her white blouse, with the faint outline of her bra teasing me beneath the fabric.
My body reacted instantly, betraying the control I tried so hard to maintain. I undressed her in my mind before I could stop myself. I’d already known so much about her—how her lips tasted, the way her mouth trembled when she came apart, the way she kissed—and yet I knew so fucking little.
Now that she worked for me, in a city of millions, I couldn’t help but wonder,What were the odds?
The thoughts consumed me in the minutes after she’d left my office. What did she do when she went home? What did she look like waking up in the morning? What did she love? Hate? Did she ever think about that night? About the way I’d pumped into her, hard and merciless?
And those wide, doe-like eyes of hers, roving up and down my body… God I’d wanted to sling her over my shoulder, take her back to the hotel room, and ravish every inch of her. To hear her gasp and shudder and to come inside her …
Then Cora had called, saying she was coming over. It put me on edge.
“Hello, Cora,” I said, loosening my tie as I took a seat across her.
She didn’t respond. Instead, her gaze wandered to the Picasso above the fireplace.
“You have taste,” she admitted finally, glancing in my direction. “I didn’t expect it from someone with your… background.”
There it was. Another jab at my biological mother.
Rosa, my housekeeper, entered with a crystal decanter of rare vintage cognac, setting it on the coffee table before quietly exiting.
Cora ignored her, picking up a hand-blown glass orb by Dale Chihuly perched on a sleek pedestal. The delicate swirls of color reflected in her calculating eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Her gaze flicked to the photo of Dad and me on the mantelpiece, lingering on the word engraved on the frame—Family.
