Release Date: January 30, 2019
Cover Design: Lori Jackson Design
She’s just a tool, and I’ll ruin her, because I need to.
From the moment I first saw her, Ivy Prescot has been a bad idea. Strong willed, beautiful, intelligent–she is my perfect storm. The attraction is palpable, undeniable.
The problem is she’s the assistant to the CEO of a hundred-million dollar company.
She’s my assistant.
The other problem? She was previously the assistant to my rival and the man I have sworn to destroy at all costs.
I need her to achieve my goal, but I will rip apart anyone that stands in my way.
In the game of crushing kings of men, I never planned on my heart being a sacrifice.
Everything is in motion, unable to be stopped. I can only hope that when the dust settles she will forgive me.
(subject to slight changes)
The tyrant was back. I blamed the doctor’s appointment and lack of food and coffee. His mood was atrocious and I’d come so close to smacking that sneer from his face.
I had so enjoyed our conversation the day before. For a few brief moments I actually liked him, but those seemed like a distant memory from long ago.
“Did I not say I didn’t want to be disturbed?”
“Yes, but I didn’t think I was included.”
“You are. Out.”
My teeth ground together as anger flared. I was tired of being tossed out, ignored. How were we supposed to work together with his constant attitude? “What is wrong with you?”
“I don’t want to be disturbed and yet you are still standing here.”
“I’m your assistant,” I ground out, hating that he would even give me the courtesy of looking at me.
“And the biggest fucking distraction. Now get out.”
I was done playing nice. “Why do you have to be such an ass?”
He turned and finally leveled that steely glare on me. “Why can’t you follow the simplest of instructions?” he lashed out.
“Throwing me out of your office is not an instruction,” I snapped back. “For weeks, I’ve been grinding hard to learn all I can, to understand you and how you work, but you make that an almost impossibility. You lock yourself away, won’t open up, let me see how you work. How am I supposed to meet your expectations if I’m never given the opportunity to figure out what those are?”
I watched his fingers clench, then release, only to clench again.
“There is a reason for that.”
His entire body was coiled so tightly it felt like I was waiting for the inevitable snap. Had I pushed him too far?
“It’s obviously your failure to understand, to connect. It’s not my job to spell everything out, to tell you how to do things.”
I stared at him in stunned silence. Somehow, I was being blamed for our lack of communication, for my inability to do my job. Not him or the lack of training. Me.
I had done so much to learn about him and his habits, to be able to anticipate his needs. Months of stowing away little bits of information and categorizing him just like the software he worked so hard to cultivate.
I wasn’t the issue.
Anger boiled up. The tension that moved between us like a live wire only grew. We were at the end of the fuse, and I did not want to be looking for a new job when the dust settled. Something had to change.
But fuck it, I was mad.
I grabbed the nearest thing–a pen–and threw it at him. His brow furrowed as he looked down at the spot, then back to me.
“You’re the issue, not me!” I cried out as I grabbed the next item. It bounced off him like the first, a completely unnoticeable hit. “I just want to help, to do my job, and you make that so unbelievably difficult!” The next item felt much heavier than the previous ones, but that didn’t register until it was on its impact trajectory.
Time seemed to slow. His eyes went wide and he ducked before being struck. It wasn’t until the item smashed into the wall, exploding into multiple pieces, that I knew what it was.
A stapler. Shit!
In two large steps he was able to reach out and grab me. I spun until I was sandwiched between the wall and a very angry Lincoln Devereux.
It was so different from the last time I was in his arms, but no less intoxicating.
His chest was pressed up against mine, while I attempt to push away, but there was no way I was breaking through the wall behind me. My gaze was glued to his Adam’s apple and I could see the tick of his jaw.
“Miss Prescot, you are way out of line,” he said in a low growl.
I shot my eyes up to his. “Me? Are you serious? Do you even register what you’re doing right now?”
“You threw a stapler at my head,” he seethed.
I glared at him. “I knew it would fly straighter than the file next to it.”
His hands landed on my waist before slowly moving around to my back. The sound of my heart beating was deafening. The way my body burned under his touch, the way I desperately wanted to melt into him, was even stronger than the only other time his arms were around me. Turned on didn’t come close to the feeling pulsing through me.
He learned down, his mouth an inch from my ear. “You’ll pay for that.”
A shiver ran through me and my fingers clenched the fabric of his suit.
Since I first bumped into him I had wondered what his lips felt like. Were they soft? Was he a sweet kisser or a taker?
I didn’t have to wonder any longer, because no sooner had he finished his sentence his lips crashed to mine.
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