The white box that arrives on my desk is about the size of a doughnut box, and it’s tied with a ribbon that walks the line between subtle discretion and understated decoration. At a glance the package looks fairly unassuming, but if I still worked in the cubicle next to Marie, she’d be all over it in less than half a second.

Even sitting alone in the reception area outside Mr. Overhiser’s office, I can’t convince myself that the color rising to my cheeks isn’t incriminating. I only allow myself a couple of minutes to look over the box before opening the lowest drawer of my desk and depositing it carefully inside away from prying eyes.

I’m not supposed to open it at work. Naturally, that makes me even more anxious to open it.

Instead, I focus my attention—drag it, kicking and screaming—on my newly assigned duties.

Scheduling for Mr. Overhiser turns out to be far less complex than what I had been doing for the Executive Support team. It turns out that my main priorities include ensuring that Mr. Overhiser’s favorite lunch—a specific BLT with a few finicky add-ons from the restaurant down the street—is on his desk at twelve-fifteen every day, that his meetings don’t run past schedule, and that I can provide excuses if he wants to duck out for the day early.

At least that’s the vibe I get in the first few hours, and my gut instincts are usually spot-on.

The entire set-up is more perfect than I could have dreamed, because while I’m making myself look busier than I really am—ordering lunch isn’t rocket science, and making up excuses is simple—I’m also finally getting a crack at tackling the job I’m really here to do.

Namely, finding out if Mr. Overhiser is the inside man for the Chinese government.

I find my mind continuing to stray, though. Do your job, I remind myself sternly every time I start thinking about the box.

When I take my afternoon break at three o’clock, it’s all I can do not to give in to temptation, to lift that simple white box out of its hiding place in the drawer, untie the ribbon, and take a peek inside. One look. One look can’t hurt…

But he told me – insisted – that I not open it here, and that’s the game we’re playing. The game that sets my core ablaze and makes me want to play for the rest of my life.

I put a hand to my forehead and my heart jumps. That’s a long time, the rest of my life—but my nerves pulse with excitement when I think about the box and what might be in it, when I think about Dominic, and in this moment, yeah, I’d love for this to go on for the rest of my life.

Mr. Overhiser is a Grade A creep and doesn’t even pretend to hide it, but he also likes to be out of the office right at five, which is perhaps his single redeeming quality. Today, I can’t wait to leave the office. The moment he steps out the office door and into the elevator, I leap from my seat, wrench open the desk drawer, and grab the box.

I’m going to have to carry it home with me—it won’t quite fit in my purse, at least not well enough for it not to be awkward—and a little thrill of nervousness streaks down my spine. People sometimes snatch things from passengers on the subway. I’m not letting this baby—whatever it is—out of my grip, so that could turn into…a situation…if anyone even looks at it funny.

I walk the three blocks to the subway station as fast as I can in my three-inch black heels. The train is crowded with the rush of people heading home after work, but nobody tries to screw with me, and I’m so preoccupied about this gift that it makes the time fly. I’m breathing hard by the time I rush to my apartment. Slamming the door shut behind me, I drop my purse to the floor and carry the box to the coffee table in my living room, handling it like it’s a priceless treasure.

The ribbon slips off like a dream. It would only have taken a feather-light touch to do this in the office, and it brings a smile to my face. No doubt Dominic knew that.

Now that it’s time to open the box, I hesitate.

He’s right—the anticipation is worth it. I give myself a moment to linger in it, imagining what I’m going to find inside. Some kind of dress I could never afford even if I saved up for it the rest of my life? An invitation to another exclusive restaurant? Will a driver be pulling up outside my building any moment to pick me up? Is Dominic waiting by his phone right now for me to call?

That’s what does me in. I tear the lid off the box and look down to find something wrapped delicately in tissue paper. I toss all of it aside to reveal two objects.

One is a vibrator, but it reminds me of Dominic’s car—sleek and designed within an inch of its life, probably something you can’t get unless you’re someone like him.

The second—I gasp out loud when I register what it is—is a butt plug.

There’s no mistaking the tapered shape, the smooth silicone surface, and even though I’ve never seen one before, I know what it is, and there is no way I’m going to—

My heart pounds against my rib cage, and I scrape through the last few sheets of tissue paper. There’s a card at the very bottom of the box, the envelope thick and heavy. My name is written across the front of it in Dominic’s steady handwriting. With trembling hands, I tear open the envelope and slip out the card. Only a few words are printed on the thick and smooth stock:

V—

Call me when you get this. I’ll be waiting.

—D

I rise from the couch and race back to where I dropped my purse on the floor, fumbling with it until my phone slips out and into my hands. I dial Dominic’s number. He picks up on the first ring.

“You got my gift.”

“Dominic—what—I—”

He laughs, the sound rich and deep, settling me in spite of myself. “Do you like it?”

“Half of it, at least! The other part—”

“I’m assuming you’re talking about the plug.”

“Yes, the plug.” Color surges into my cheeks, even though he can’t see me. “That’s not the kind of thing I’ve—I’m not going to—what—”

“Don’t fret so much, sweet thing.” There’s still a layer of laughter under the baritone timbre of his voice. “I gave that to you for an added layer of anticipation, a taste of what’s to come—if you decide that you want it.”

“Why would I—?” I snap my lips closed, flashing back to the car ride, to the words that tumbled unbidden out of my mouth—punish me—and I can feel my entire body blushing at the memory. Oh, God, is this what he has in mind?

And why is it making me so wet to imagine it?

“I don’t know, Dominic…” But I do know. I do.

“You don’t need to decide right now.” Then his tone shifts gears. “Are you still dressed?”

“Yes. I’m home from the office.”

“Let’s start with taking off your clothes. Are you ready to follow instructions?”

My shoulders relax. “Yes,” I breathe into the phone, finally seeing the game Dominic has set up for us tonight.

“Take them all off, one piece at a time. I’ll wait.”