Monday morning. The day after.

People seemed to loathe Mondays, but I don’t think there was anyone who disliked them more than me. My eyes bounced over to the clock on the wall. I knew in about five more minutes, he would be strolling through that door, so I stacked the papers I had in my hand, placing them neatly on his desk.

I knew not to be in here when he arrived, but I needed to talk about yesterday. I needed him to look me in the eye and tell me I wasn’t crazy—that I’d heard what I heard. The elevator chimed from where I stood and my breath nearly caught in my throat.

I looked down, sliding my slick palms down the front of my white pencil skirt and then smoothing out some of the wrinkles from my silky red blouse that revealed way too much cleavage, just the way he liked it. Not to mention the red stilettos I bought to wear to work, just for him. Red is sultry, sexy, tempting. He, of all people, could never resist it. I checked my hair in the mirror on the wall to my right and just as I straightened up, the door opened wider.

He walked inside, making it halfway through the room, focused on the iPhone in his hand. Like he knew he wasn’t the only one in the room, he picked up his head and as soon as he spotted me, he stopped walking.

I froze, hardly breathing.

His beauty alone could make any woman stop dead in her tracks.

He was very handsome.

Judas Clement—a name that should have frightened my fragile heart from the start. Before I met him, really got to know him, I was pure. I deemed his parents insane for giving him such a blasphemous name, but then I got to know him, spend an ample amount of time around him, and realized his name suited him all too well. Why? Because he betrayed my heart constantly, played me like a fool every week, but I forgave him every single time.

When I first laid eyes on this man, I wondered what the good Lord was thinking while creating him. From crown to foot, he was breathtakingly beautiful, and he knew it. Oh, trust me, he knew it.

His sandy-blonde hair was styled in the perfect cut, tapered on the sides and a little lengthier at the top. It seemed he combed and gelled it every morning, but also messed with it a lot with his fingers on his way to work. He had a cowlick that made him seem boyish, but trust me, he was anything but.

He wore a blue three-piece Armani suit with a silky light blue tie to match. And his face. My word, his face was perfectly sculpted and shaped. A cut and narrow jaw, a strong, square chin, dusty with scruff, and a straight and narrow nose that led to full, suckable lips. I liked when he didn’t shave, though I knew his mother hated it. To her, and apparently, the rest of the industry, it made him appear less professional.

His eyes were the iciest blue eyes I’d ever seen. Bright and always freezing me in place. I knew what was beneath the immaculate suit he wore. Oh, believe me, I knew all about it and felt heat build up in my chest just thinking about it.

“Miss Taylor,” Jude said. “Why are you in my office? You know you’re not supposed to be in here when I arrive.”

I finally let a breath slip out, fidgeting on my six-inch heels now. “Don’t call me Miss Taylor. You know I don’t like that.”

With a small smirk, he pulled his eyes away, walking on the opposite side of the room to get behind his desk. He was closer now and I could smell his cologne—sandalwood and leather and all the finer things.

Casually sliding his hands into his front pockets, he turned to look at me—all of me. His hungry eyes scanned my entire body, sticking mainly on my breasts and my legs. “In here, it’s Mr. Clement to you, and you are Miss Taylor to me. You know this.”

Yeah, before things got a little too hot and heavy between us. I ignored his remark. There was no need for formalities after that.

“Jude, I want to talk about yesterday,” I said, cutting right to the chase.

I saw his jaw clench then, his icy eyes boring into mine. “You know we don’t talk about Sundays here.”

“Yeah, I know, but…I heard you say something. And it had me thinking all night. I know I’m not crazy…I just—”

“Sometimes you can be,” he said with snide, turning and sitting in his big leather chair. “Crazy,” he added on, like I didn’t understand. He moved the mouse to his computer, logging into it. He was deflecting. Normally I would let him get away with this—walk away and go about my business—but not today.

I’d had enough of his mind games.

I grabbed the armrest of his chair and spun him around to face me. He frowned up at me, ready to lash out, but before I could think about what I did next, my lips were already on his, my ass sinking sideways into his lap.

I hooked my right arm around the back of his neck, staining him with ruby red lipstick, not giving a damn how he felt about it.

Because I heard him yesterday.

I fucking heard him.

But he didn’t care because he didn’t kiss me back. He didn’t put any effort into it. He never did. I couldn’t understand why I kept trying. My effort seemed stupid and futile. Jude gripped my face tight between his fingers and snatched his lips away. He glared at me but I pulled my face away, sliding off of his lap and standing again, breathing a little harder.

“What exactly did you hear me say, Jenna?” he asked, rising from his chair, stepping closer. God, Jude was a beast. A sexy, delicious, wicked, all-consuming beast that made my heart drum and my knees wobble. His chest bumped mine, his breathing ragged, and yep—his lips were smeared with my lipstick, along with the skin beneath his bottom lip.

He used his thumb to wipe most of it away, but kept his eyes hard on me.

I hesitated. Suddenly, I didn’t want to tell him, not with his icy gaze penetrating me, diving deep into my soul, freezing every word that was trying to form.

“That you—”

“That I what?” He tipped his chin, bringing a hand up and pressing it into the back of my neck to tilt my chin, too.

“That you like being around me,” I whispered on his lips. I ached, wanting his lips on mine. Needing it so badly. I expected a kiss—one sweet, delicious, real kiss—but he paused. His mouth was so close to mine I could feel the heat of them. His chest pushed into my bosom.

“We fuck on Sundays, behind closed doors—away from the world,” he murmured on my lips. “I fuck the shit out of you and you love it, but that’s it. All we are doing is fucking, Jenna. We don’t get to like each other. We don’t get to let ourselves sink too deep, so whatever you think you heard me say, you are sadly mistaken.”

My thudding heart slammed to a standstill. He slowly withdrew, holding my gaze for a brief moment, before stepping away and sitting in his chair again.

I stood there like a damn idiot, eyes ahead, trying to collect my thoughts. He didn’t like me. Of course, he didn’t.

This arrangement wasn’t created to like each other. It was created for the enjoyment, the satisfaction. The irresistible tug and pull that we’d constantly put up with until, finally, he’d shown up at the office after hours, bent me over on his desk, and fucked me from behind while murmuring sweet nothings in my ear. And before he left that same night, he told me it wouldn’t stop—that he needed more.

Only, he wasn’t supposed to want or need more because his family wouldn’t have accepted it. I knew I wasn’t good enough for him. I was just the secretary, yet that didn’t matter to him. He still wanted me, so we had to do this quietly. Secretly.

That’s when the hotel bookings started—the early Sunday mornings leading into satisfied Sunday evenings. But not this past Sunday. No, on that Sunday, my mind was unsatisfied.

“You can go now, Miss Taylor,” Mr. Clement said, typing on his keyboard, replying to an email. It was Mr. Clement to me, because that’s who he was here. Not Jude. Not Judas. Clement. Only Clement. I was never to get too comfortable. That was his rule.

I swallowed my heart, which was lodged in my throat several seconds ago, and turned away from him, walking to his office door.

“Oh, and Jenna,” Mr. Clement called. I looked back, my heart catching speed, but he wasn’t even looking at me. He was still focused on his computer screen.

“Yes, sir?”

“Get me a coffee, will you?” he requested. “It’s going to be a long day.”

Defeat washed through me, pouring through my veins, pungent like gasoline. I blinked rapidly and nodded, but my heart was slowly breaking to pieces. “Of course, Mr. Clement.”