Filthy Rich (Filthy Rich 1)

be worth it.

But first, we had to discuss the game.

“Meet in my office,” I told her. “You have ten minutes.”

She was still staring at me as I walked out the door.

Twenty-Nine

Samantha

* * *

I didn’t go to his office in ten minutes. Or twenty. Or forty.

I made him wait an hour.

Was it petty? Yes, it was. Was it childish? Yes, it was. Was it just a way to see if I could push his buttons the way he’d pushed mine? Definitely.

But damn it, he’d broken the rules. We’d set the game up perfectly and we’d played it without a hitch—this strange thing that satisfied both of us. We were in sync. And then he’d told me that I tasted like honey—right here in the elevator at work.

And it had made my heart beat faster and my breath come short, just like the game did.

That wasn’t how it was supposed to work.

I had spent all of last night thinking about how he’d left me at Shaker’s, the words he’d used. The slightly sad look in his eyes when he said them. And I realized that somewhere along the way, I’d screwed up. I’d misread him. We weren’t as in sync as I thought we were.

We’d made a strict rule never to talk about the rules of the game. That back-and-forth, chess-match aspect had made things more exciting. But it had also meant he couldn’t tell me I’d been a jerk in the usual way. So he’d done it by getting me off twice in a restaurant bathroom, then leaving.

Okay, I had to address what had happened. But I didn’t have to jump when Aidan snapped his fingers, boss or not. We’d never had that relationship before the game began. Just because he’d given me the best, most intense orgasms of my life didn’t mean that we’d have that relationship now. I was still his executive assistant, the best one at Executive Ranks. I wasn’t his minion. I would go to his office, but I would do it on my time.

So I poured a coffee at the coffee station in the middle of the office and I drank it as I sorted email, both mine and his. I fielded requests for Aidan to take meetings or speak at conferences. I took a call from the legal department. I went through the mail.

There was a piece of mail from a hospital in Chicago. Thinking it was a request for a donation, I opened the letter and skimmed it. Too late, I realized how personal it was—I couldn’t unread what I had read. I set the letter aside, along with other papers that I needed Aidan to sign. I went to his office and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he said.

I stepped in and closed the door behind me. Aidan was standing at his floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the city. He wasn’t wearing a jacket or tie today, just black pants and a black dress shirt that was cut perfectly to his torso and the flawless line of his waist. His hands rested casually in his pockets. He had a shadow of stubble on his jaw. I let my gaze take him in for a quick second while he wasn’t looking at me—the sinuous line of his muscled shoulders, the way his pants fit over his ass. I thought of the pilot I’d met in the bar last night, of how knowingly his mouth had worked over my pussy, and my skin went hot.

He turned and looked at me, his features stern. But I knew him now, and I could read his expression—there was amusement in his eyes. “Nice of you to show up,” he said.

I kept my chin up. “Sorry, the time you gave didn’t work for me. I had things to do.”

“I apologize for keeping you from your important work.”

He leaned his weight a little on one hip, and I thought of what he had looked like in jeans last night. I tried to keep my cool. “I went through the mail,” I said. “There’s a letter from a hospital. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have read it. I didn’t know it was personal.”

I held out the letter, but Aidan stayed where he was, making no move to take it. “Is it about my mother?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t read all of it.”

“Read all of it now.” His voice was calm, though cooler than before. “I don’t want to read it. What do they want?”

I turned the page back around and read it. “They say, um, that in her condition she sometimes tries to wander from the grounds. They recommend moving her to a different section of the hospital where they watch the patients more closely.”

There was not a hint of reaction in his face. “And?”

I read to the bottom. “And, er, the change in care is more expensive.”