Emily: Sex and Sensibility (The Wilde Sisters 1)

And then there’d been the sharp contrast between Emily and Jessalyn.

Marco quickened his pace as he crossed the enormous lobby of MS Enterprises.

Emily was not the kind of woman he normally dealt with. She was most certainly not the kind he wanted to deal with.

Bottom line? He was glad he’d helped her but that was the end of it.

He strode past the lobby reception desk. The clerk behind it sprang to his feet and all but clicked his heels.

“Good morning, Mr. Santini.”

Marco growled a good morning in return. He considered pausing long enough to say that a simple greeting was sufficient, that standing at attention was not necessary, but he’d made the same little speech before and it had gotten him nowhere.

The elevator operator—not really an operator but a security guy—did the same thing. Straightened up and damn near saluted.

“Good morning, sir.”

Marco nodded, and also thought about telling him, once again, that such formality was not necessary, but the elevator doors whisked open and he stepped inside.

He didn’t like being treated like a potentate. Why would he?

The car stopped at the fiftieth floor. The executive level, fronted by a big glass desk and a receptionist.

“Good morning, Mr. Santini…”

“You are not to rise to your feet,” Marco snapped.

The woman looked bewildered, and rightly so. She, at least, had taken him at his word after the millionth time he’d told her to remain seated when he arrived in the mornings.

What had happened to his good mood?

“Sorry,” he said as he marched past her and headed for his office.

He knew what had happened to his good mood.

Reality had killed it. And here was the further proof. He would have to spend the day dealing with the temporary and completely incompetent PA sent up by Human Resources—and, merda, there she was, springing to her feet.

“Good morn—”

“Good morning,” Marco snarled. “And sit down, dammit.”

“Sorry, sir. I only—”

Cristo, was her voice shaking?

“Yes. I understand.” Marco smiled. At least, he hoped he was smiling. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” She was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. “

Any messages?” he said briskly.

“Yes, sir. I put them on your desk.”

Marco thanked her, entered his office, shrugged off his suit jacket, hung it away and went to his desk.

The stack of messages looked three feet high. His regular PA would have winnowed it by more than half. And the very first message was not a good one. The garage needed more insurance information. His PA should have handled it.

Correction.

Would have handled it, if she were still here.