Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
He cleared his throat and his visitor straightened. She stood straight, stepping aside so that Evelyn could be seen. “May I help you?”
Evelyn smiled. “Yes, I’m here to see Mr. Patras.”
The man stilled, glanced at his computer and frowned. “Did you have an appointment?”
“No.”
His mouth opened and snapped shut. “Mr. Patras only sees people with appointments. If you’d like to leave a name—”
“Could you please just let him know Ms. Evelyn Keats is here?”
The man’s eyes bulged. “Ms. Keats?”
She smiled, seeing recognition in his eyes. “You must be Seth. It’s a pleasure to put a face to the name.”
He seemed suddenly self-conscious. “The pleasure’s mine. Let me inform Mr. Patras you’re here.” He pressed a button on the receiver at his desk. “Mr. Patras?”
“Yes, Seth?” Lucian sounded harried.
No backing out now.
“There is a lovely Ms. Evelyn Keats here to see you.”
There was a momentary pause, and then his voice sounded, tinged with curiosity. “Is there? Please, send her in.”
Seth smiled and pressed a button. “You may go in.”
“Thank you.”
She carefully stepped to the door labeled President and turned the brushed nickel knob. Lucian was coming around his desk to greet her. “Evelyn, is everything all right?”
She smiled and quietly shut the door. “Everything’s fine, Mr. Patras.” He raised a brow at the use of his formal title. “I came for my interview.”
Pausing, then extending his arm, he gracefully invited her into the lion’s den. His face split with a slow grin and he nodded. “Ah, the interview. I’d forgotten. Please, have a seat.”
He returned to the executive chair behind his desk, this one just as messy as his desk at the condo. The lavishness of the office compensated for its sloppy surface. She slid into the butter-soft leather chair facing him and crossed her legs. His gaze followed the action and she hid a smirk.
Folding her hands over her lap, she waited for direction. He waited as well, the pregnant silence tightening her muscles as each second ticked by.
He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself,” he suggested. Easing back into his chair, his steepled fingers hid his mouth. Her own lips twitched with a sense of playfulness, but she shut her eyes and drew in a slow breath. Fantasy was about fulfilling a psychological need with physical illusions. In other words, she needed to be convincing in order to do this right.
She licked her lips, again drawing his attention to the subtle movement. “Well, I’m told that I have an aptitude for taking direction. I’m a fast learner, I like to please, and I do well with praise.”
“And if there is need for correction?”
His eyes darkened and she drew in a slow, heated breath. “I do well with that too.”
It was nearing four o’clock, and his throat showed shadows of a day’s growth as his Adam’s apple bobbed slowly. “I’m quite particular with my expectations, Ms. Keats. I do not tolerate anything less than perfect.”
Her mouth went dry. “I understand.”
He leaned forward and gathered some papers on his desk, stacking them haphazardly and tossing them into a tray to the right. “Let’s take a look at your briefs.”
“Pardon?”
“Come here, please.”
Her lips parted as she rose to her feet. Slowly, she stepped around the edge of his desk. Heavy brass wheels rolled slowly as his gaze traveled over her outfit. “You are looking quite professional today, Ms. Keats. I like it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Show me your briefs.”
Her fingers glided to the hem of her skirt. She slowly lifted the fabric, exposing the lace of her stockings, the snaps of her garters, and the pale pink lace triangle of her panties. Lucian’s eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. Her gaze slipped to the bulge beneath his Armani belt buckle.
“Very nice.” He made no move to touch her. “Remove the garters.”
Carefully, she bent and undid the beribboned snaps holding her stockings in place. They hung like the seductive branches of a weeping willow. Once the last was undone, she stood.
“Did you bring duplicates?”
Her brow pinched and he nodded toward the apex of her thighs. He was referring to her panties. “No, sir.”
He tsked. “I’m afraid you will have to leave the originals then, Ms. Keats.”
Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. “Yes, sir. I apologize for being unprepared.”
“I believe in correcting employees immediately after an infraction. Please hand me your briefs.”
Her fingers fit under the string of her damp panties and slowly lowered them. Rising once again, she held the garment from her pinky and offered them to him. He caught the shred of silk and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply.
“These are wet.” He crumpled the fabric and slowly stuffed it in his pocket.
“I’m sorry, sir. I was excited for the interview.”
“Come here, please.”
There wasn’t much room between him and his desk. She took a small step forward. The weight of his palms circling her hips caused her to sigh with pent-up relief. Since morning, she’d been starved for his touch. He turned her. “Palms on the edge of the desk, Ms. Keats. I’m going to look over your proposal.”