“What’s on today, boss?” Nicki asks as she tightens my tie.
“Business stuff.”
“I love business stuff,” Heidi replies. “Say something boss-like to me.”
“You’re fired.”
They both giggle.
“Say something boss-like to me,” Nicki says.
“Bend over my desk.” I turn her away from me and lift her dress up over her ass.
A thrum of arousal runs through me as I stare down at her tight ass up in the air . . . ready and waiting.
Go to fucking work!
“Let’s go,” I snap as I rush from the bathroom.
I hear a voice come from the kitchen. “Good morning, Mr. Miles.”
“Good morning, Miss Penelope,” I call as I collect my briefcase from my office. I walk back out into the kitchen, and she passes me my coffee in a travel mug.
“You are undoubtedly the best housekeeper of all time.” I smile as I kiss her cheek.
“I know, dear.”
I’m not even joking. Miss Penelope truly is the best housekeeper of all time. If she wasn’t fifty-six years old . . . and already married, I would marry her myself.
The girls come around the corner. “Good morning, Miss Penelope,” they chime in unison.
“Good morning, girls.” She smiles. Her eyes come back to me, and I give her a playful wink.
Yeah, yeah, I know.
I’m bad.
We’ve established this a million times already.
“Time to go. Have a good day, Miss Penelope.”
“I will, dear. You too.”
We make for the door, and the girls chatter as we get into the elevator. When we get to the ground floor, I walk out the front of my building with them. Hans is waiting with my car. “Morning, Hans.” I smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Miles.” He dips his head.
“Can you take the girls home for me, please?” I ask him.
“Yes, sir.” He smiles. “Of course.”
“Morning, Hans.” The girls both smile as he opens the back door of the limo. I kiss them each goodbye on the cheek, and they happily bounce in. I watch the limo pull out and walk back into my building and take the elevator down to the basement. I get into my black Porsche and pull out of the parking lot and into the long line of cars.
Ugh . . . London traffic. Is there anything worse?
Three hours later
“And this right here.” He points to a line on the graph. “This trend is what we’re following. See how the overflow of the population . . .”
I yawn, hardly able to keep my eyes open.
“Are we keeping you awake, Christopher?” Jameson barks.
You are, actually.
I clear my throat to stop myself rolling my eyes.
“Sorry,” I apologize.
Two of my brothers, Jameson and Tristan, are here in London to meet with Elliot and me for our quarterly board meeting. The shit we have to talk about is seriously boring. Jameson begins to speak again and goes on in great detail about some spiraling trend, and I yawn again.
Jameson glares at me.
“Sorry,” I mouth, trying not to interrupt him again.
For fuck’s sake, focus.