“Fucking perfect like her,” I grumble and shake my head. It’s a perfect score. Shit, it’s even better because she nailed the extra credit. I enter the scores in the system and laugh. She nearly brought her sister’s grade up to a high ‘C.’ She could have at least missed a couple of problems.
I smile, letting out a laugh. My girl couldn’t help herself.
Using my connections by the end of the day, I have a full report on Alyssa in my email. When I open it, I’m shocked and annoyed to see that she works for Oliver King. He’s one of the wealthiest and most eligible bastards in the US and my friend. The sisters live together in an apartment halfway between King’s offices and the college, running my method of attack through my head. I immediately drop all those ideas because it makes my dick hard as hell.
I power down everything just in time to avoid an eager admin who’d like for me to give her this big stick that I have only for my Alyssa. I make it to my car and rush to her apartment with wicked as fuck intentions. Time to revert to my lock picking skills.Chapter 3AlyssaI manage to sneak out of his class without another interaction between us. Relief hits me then quickly moves out of the way for sadness. I’m never going to see him again. Sighing, I do my best to control that unmistakable ache in my chest. There’s nothing for me to be upset about. It’s just the adrenaline wearing me down.
I get in my car and drive to the apartment. Shit. I haven’t powered up my phone. Once I do, I’m in for a shock.
Ten messages from Alexa:
Answer your phone. It’s important.
Fucking shit. I think I just got you fired. My eyes slam shut, doing my best to hope things get better through these.
I need help. He’s intense and growly. Growly and intense brings Stuffed Shirt to my mind. Why didn’t I learn his name?
Answer your fucking phone.
Answer your phone. Class should be over with already.
He’s taking me on his trip to Paris.
Shit. We need to switch.
I think he’s on to me.
Shit, are you okay?
I’m on a plane already. Call you when I land. Wish us luck.
It doesn’t tell me how many times she called since my phone was powered down, but damn it, she’s going to get me fired.
I think about the time it takes to get there. Damn, I probably won’t hear from Alexa for another six hours. I walk into the kitchen to make myself a stiff drink, freezing mid-step.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and reread my messages. Why is my boss taking her? I’ve never gone on a business trip with him. Wait, why are they going to Paris? His meeting is in London.
I can’t even message him. How could he forget where he was going?
This is a nightmare. I’m going to get fired, and no one is going to want to hire me. Maybe Alexa will tell Mr. King that I’m sick and she offered to fill in for me, so I didn’t freak out. She’s good at getting herself out of trouble or more like getting herself into trouble.
Needing that drink, I pour it and sit down with my book. My mind doesn’t want to be invested in the book. I should be worrying about my job, but all I can think about is those light brown eyes that penetrated my soul during the class. I polish off the last of my mixed drink and set it on the table. I rarely ever drink, but I needed it today. I feel good as I doze off.
I wake up, and it’s dark outside, but I’m not alone. I sense someone’s in the room. “Alexa?” I call out.
“It’s not Alexa.” A low rumble rips through the room.
“Ah,” I scream, falling off the sofa and hitting my hip on the floor.
“Shit.” He’s by me in a second to help me up.
I stand before he can touch me, and I cross my arms and do my best to glare. “What are you doing here? How did you get into my apartment?” My heart’s racing and not because he snuck in, but that he came for me. I’m really losing it.
“It’s my little secret, Ms. Mathers. Do you care to share yours?” His smooth voice washes over me.
“I don’t have secrets,” I lie.
“Little liar.” He stalks toward me, causing me to fall backward and land back on the sofa. Damn, he’s sexier than I remembered. Holy hell, I’m so in trouble. I told Alexa it was a bad idea.
“Um…um…Mr…” I stammer because I really have no idea what his name is.
“I know you’re sleepy and a little tipsy, but I can’t imagine you forgot my name after all these years.” He’s playing me. He already knows the truth.