Morning comes fast, and next thing I know, I’m sitting behind my huge mahogany desk while my assistant sets a cup of steaming black coffee in front of me. I’ll need to mainline caffeine if I want to get through everything on my agenda today.

“Thanks, Betty,” I tell her, giving her a charming grin.

She smiles. “Of course, Mr. Donovan. I baked you some cookies, too.”

Betty reminds me of a doting grandmother. Most people in my position would probably have a sexy young thing for an assistant. Not me. Like I need that kind of distraction while I’m working. Then things would only get complicated after I fucked her—which I’d obviously do. Nope. If I wanted eye candy in the office, I’d spend more of my time finding new assistants than I would working. Because no way would they be cool with working for me after I fucked them once and moved on.

That’s why Betty is the best. Even if she does make me put in extra time at the gym or my private swim club to justify all the stuff she bakes me and brings here.

“Keep the coffee coming, Betty,” I tell her. “I’m going to need it today.”

Settling in, I wake my computer and get ready to dive in. Until I’m interrupted by my phone ringing. Not the office phone, which Betty would totally screen. My cell phone. Looking at the screen, my hand clenches around it.

“Fuck.”

Misty’s face appears on my screen, some pouty look that she no doubt thinks looks sexy. How the hell did she program herself into my phone? Gritting my teeth, I silence it and set it aside.

It’s a damn good thing she has no idea where my office is. She’s probably still in my apartment. If she knew my office was in the very same building, she’d be worming her way in here. I can already tell she’s the clingy kind. How did I not see it before I took her home last night? I should’ve, because when she looked up at me after I fucked her, practically begging me to spend the night in bed with her, it was clear. And now she’s managed to get my phone number and is calling me first thing in the morning.

My phone blinks yet again. Fucking Misty.

What. The. Fuck.

I settle into my chair, trying to refocus. I might have to send my housekeeper in early to shoo her off if this continues. I definitely won’t be going back to the apartment until I know she’s gone.

This is the only downside of having my office in the same building—worrying about the women finding out it’s here. I need to be sure no one knows. I try to keep my office private. People don’t actually know what I do. And it’s a hell of a lot easier to keep up the facade of spoiled bachelor playboy who sits around the penthouse and counts his money all day when they don’t see me putting in long hours at the office.

Shoving Misty from my mind, I pull up the file listing out the most recent donations to one of my newer charities. I smile. It’s doing amazingly well already, and I love how much of a difference these funds will make. Today’s biggest priority is making arrangements for the allocation of these donations.

I get through that, then start making calls to the heads of some of my other charities. I like to touch base once a week to make sure things are going well.

“Mr. Smith,” I say, a smile in my voice when I’m transferred to the head of one of my favorites, “I hear things are going well.”

He greets me like an old friend, and I lean back in my chair as he starts filling me in on things I already know, for the most part. But I like to keep this personal element to my business interactions rather than just looking at reports all day.

As I listen, I notice my phone blinking again, and I lean forward and grab it. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Misty again.

I dismiss the call, trying to focus on Mr. Smith, but I have a hard time of it when I see that she’s been blowing up my phone all morning. Thirteen missed calls. Seriously?

Goddammit. I never should have given her my phone number. What the hell was I thinking? Now she’s never going to leave me alone, no doubt wanting to try for another night together.

I barely manage to keep my head in the game for the rest of the afternoon after that because I keep seeing her slutty face pop up on my screen while I’m in the middle of other tasks. I’m going to have to block her ass.

By the end of the day, I’m mentally exhausted. Kicking back in my office chair, I scroll through my notifications and see a text from my mom buried in between Misty’s incessant missed calls. That brings a smile to my face, and I immediately tap the screen to call her back, propping my feet up on my desk as the phone rings.

“Liam,” her voice comes through, obviously happy to hear from me.

“Hey, Mom. How are you?”

“Better now that I’ve heard your voice.”

I chuckle. “You act like you haven’t heard from me in forever. We talked yesterday.”

We talk every day, in fact, giving each other updates on our lives.

“When are we having dinner again?” I ask her. She stays busy making appearances at many of the charity events around town, and I see her at some of them, but the general public has no idea that I’m the man behind most of them, so I don’t often go.

“How about tonight?” she asks. “Unless, of course, you have a hot date lined up.” Her voice is teasing, and I smile. She knows my playboy reputation, even though we never really speak of it. Because hello. Awkward.

“Nothing I wouldn’t cancel in a heartbeat for you, Mom.” It’s nothing less than the truth. While I fly through the women in my circles like they’re as disposable as they make themselves out to be, my heart actually only belongs to one woman. This incredible lady that raised me, instilling a sense of purpose in me that inspires me to do the work I do every day.

“Sounds great, darling. Eight o’clock?”

That will give me plenty of time to finish up here and hit the gym. “It’s a date.”