“Thank you, Chicora,” Sloane drawls.
“Where are we with the planning?” he asks, glancing down at me.
I’ve stopped typing on my Chromebook—which Sloane nonchalantly handed off to me as if it was nothing more than a pen, only reminding me that the entire thing was encrypted and synced to our joint drives.
“Am I going too fast for you, Oliver?” he asks, his voice taking on that sinful darkness that I can’t help but respond to.
I’ve watched all his interviews, but nothing could have prepared me for thatvoice.Not the one he speaks to hisemployees with or answers reporters with. The one he uses for me.
I noticed immediately that Sloane Pierce does not address everyone the way he addresses me, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
I hope it’s a good thing. I hope it means that what I’m doing is working.Speak when spoken to. Don’t look him in the eye unless he’s speaking to you. Yes, Sir. No, Sir.
It’s professional to do these things. I know that, but it feels different. Answering to Sloane Pierce and his sinful voicefeelsdifferent and I have to shift my stance in my chair to quell my jumpy cock. Seriously, what is wrong with me? I can’t remember the last time I popped an inappropriate erection atwork.
I am fairly certain it’s beenyears.
“Apologies,” I whisper as I feel the faint blush forming in my cheeks. I don’t know what it is, but the way he looks at me makes me feel like I’m standing naked in front of all these people.
I settle my hands at the keys, and he grunts, continuing his spiel.
“Chickadee, the venue?”
“We have over twelve bids,” she says. “From larger venues down to a couple smaller businesses.”
“Twelve?” He raises an eyebrow. “I would have thought we’d have more than that. Very well, then. Send the information over to Oliver, will you?”
I perk up.
“Huh?”
Shit, I realize I’ve made a mistake, I—
Sloane’s fingers trail over his list as he stretches them towards where I sit, angling his body closer to me. He shifts, pulling my gaze.
“You will assess these places and pickthreeto present to me.”
“Oh, right, o-of course.” I clear my throat, blinking as I look up at him.
“And when am I to present this, Mr. Pierce?”
Sloane’s lips turn up in the corner, and he grins.
“Tomorrow morning. Eight am, sharp.”
Tomorrow morning… that’s….
“Uh…” I swallow hard. “That’s barely twenty-four hours.”
Sloane holds my gaze like a damn hostage.
“Are you telling me you are incapable of doing as I require, Oliver?”
He’s not just giving me a task.
He’s challenging me. He’s seeing how I’ll respond. What I’ll do.
I know whatIwould do. Oliver Green, the liaison. But I cannot act as myself. I must act as an agent of Mr. Pierce; as a man whose only desire is to placate theneedsof their boss in more ways than one.
