“What?” I growled.
Mira huffed. I’d been snapping at her daily, but instead of shrinking like the rest of my staff, she’d adjusted. Ignoring my mood and quietly tackling whatever I threw at her. Efficient, unflappable, and somehow, infuriating.
She walked in without waiting for permission, a paper cup in one hand, a wrapped sandwich in the other. She set them both down on my desk with a thud that said she was unimpressed with my attitude.
“What’s this?” I asked. She’d made it abundantly clear she wasn’t my assistant, but despite her objections, she always had my calendar open and made sure coffee magically appeared every morning. I’d assumed it was Maggie—Ethan and Victor’s assistant—until Maggie left for the week and the coffee still showed up. Ethan was gone too, dealing with investor fallout inChicago. Everything was falling apart, and I wasn’t sure I could stop it.
“Breakfast,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe lunch. Or whatever meal it’s supposed to be when you haven’t gone home yet.”
I frowned. She wasn’t wrong, and I was vaguely grateful she didn’t point out it was already noon. “You keeping tabs on my personal life now?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Not much to keep tabs on when you live here.”
I shot her a look, but she ignored it, straightening a few stray files on the corner of my desk. She did that sometimes—organizing while she talked, quietly fixing what I refused to deal with. She wasn’t the same girl who’d sat across from me three weeks ago, terrified she was about to lose her job.
“Don’t start with me,” she said, still not looking up. “Just eat something. You’re useless when you’re running on fumes.”
“I’m not useless.”
If she knew who she was talking to, she might not say half the things she did. The punishments I could dream up for that tone…
Maybe I’d add something to Saturday.
“Then prove it.” She nudged the sandwich closer. “Eat the damn sandwich before I regret being nice.”
A reluctant laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “You’re getting real bold, Ms. Rhodes.”
“I’ve been bold. You’re just tired enough to notice.”
I leaned back in my chair, studying her. She wasn’t wrong. The way she’d shut everything down just to make sure I got the information that would have brought my business to a screeching halt.
Her dark hair was pulled up, but a few strands had escaped to frame her face. She looked exhausted, too, but still somehowput together. Meanwhile, I was a walking disaster in yesterday’s clothes.
“Ever think maybe you do too much?” I asked.
Her brows rose, unimpressed. “Says the man who hasn’t left this office in two days.”
Touché.
I hadn’t left my office much. Not since the weekend, after a blissful Saturday buried deep in her. Hours later, I’d gotten word that our issue had been leaked to one of our biggest clients. Ethan had taken the first plane out to smooth things over. So now, not only did I have someone stealing from us, but the information was out there. If that client bolted, half our contracts would follow and we’d be ruined.
I sighed and tore the sandwich in half, taking a bite just to shut her up. Cold turkey and havarti, mayo, no mustard—my usual. Of course she remembered.
“Happy now?” I muttered, mouth full.
“Not even a little,” she said, collecting a stack of folders from the other side of my desk. “But it’s a start.”
She flipped around and left without another word. My mouth curved as I watched her go, the click of her heels fading down the hall. Black Mary Jane platforms, my gift from two weeks ago. She wasn’t a stiletto girl, but I’d wanted to show her she had more options than those worn ballerina flats she favored.
The skirt she wore today wasn’t floor-length like usual but tea-length, skimming her calves and offering a hint of something softer beneath her usual armor. I couldn’t help wondering if the bra and panty set I’d given her on Saturday was hidden under that fabric.
Sure, I’d torn the blue lace in my hurry when she wore them last, but the color had looked so damn good on her that I’d had Mistress Vivienne gift her a set this Sunday. I closed my eyes, as I forced myself to think of code, contracts, paperwork, anythingother than Mira strung up, blindfolded, laying her complete trust in a man with no face.
I startled awake as my head slipped from my hand and hit the desk. “Fuck.”
My desk was a disaster. Our client back East had given us three weeks to fix this or he’d pull his funding, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing we could do about it. By some grace, divine or otherwise, he was leaving for Europe with his family and didn’t want to deal with it until he got back. That bought us time. Not much, but I’d take it. He’d even agreed not to go public yet, which meant he wouldn’t shop for a new security firm and accidentally expose what happened.
The problem was, the four of us hadn’t come up with a single viable solution in the last three weeks, so I wasn’t sure another three was going to make a difference, especially if we didn’t plug the leak in the meantime.
