Monday night is sheer agony. I follow my regular routine—I go home to the apartment like nothing is wrong, change out of my coral dress and blazer and pull on the same stretchy yoga pants and tank top that I traveled here in, and then plant myself on Carolyn’s couch.

I’m still reeling from the aftershocks of Christian’s kiss like crackling electrical charges through my hands, my feet, my legs. I catch myself raising my fingertips to my slightly swollen lips. It felt so good to be pressed up against him, to let those carnal urges flash boldly and run wild through my body…

I’m about to flee back into my bedroom to relieve some of the almost unbearable sexual pressure on my own when Carolyn breezes through the front door. She hangs up her purse on one of the hooks in the entryway with a flourish. “Hey, Q!” she says, and I sit up straight.

“Good day at work?” I ask.

“Great day.” She waltzes into the living room with a spring in her step and surveys my outfit. She raises her eyebrows in question. “I see you’re in for the evening. I take it your day wasn’t great?”

I can’t help smiling, because that kiss—oh, my God, that kiss—would have outweighed even the worst day. It was paralyzingly good.

“No way. It was good for my first day at headquarters.” I want to tell someone what happened between Christian and me, but I hesitate. Carolyn knows him. He won’t want this shared freely among his circle of friends. “The office is…” I search for the words even as I give her a huge grin. “High energy.”

“That’s awesome!” she says, relief spreading visibly across her face. “I hate to say this, but I—I kind of forgot it was your first day. It seems like you’ve been here forever.”

I laugh out loud. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yes,” my roommate answers sincerely. “Jess would approve.”

She crosses into the kitchen and I hear her open and close a drawer, then I hear her pop a cork from a bottle of wine. She reemerges a minute later with two stemless wine glasses. She kicks off her black high-heeled shoes, and joins me on the couch, letting out a happy sigh as she hands me a drink.

“Cheers!” Carolyn says brightly, before we clink the glasses together, then take a celebratory sip.

“Tell me about your day,” I say once she’s leaned back against the cushions. “What was so great about it?”

“I quit my job!”

My jaw drops. Carolyn has a trust fund—she’ll never want for money—but this seems like a drastic lifestyle change. “What?”

She waves her hand dismissively in the air. “No, no, it’s not what you think. I’ve been planning this for a while, but with Jess moving out and you moving in…What’s happening is—” Carolyn leans in like she’s telling me a secret, her eyes sparkling. “I’m opening a clothing boutique two blocks west of here. It’s going to be eclectic—fashion pieces I’m going to source from all over the country, plus some of my own artistic pieces. I’ve got the startup money, and if it goes under—not that it’s going to—but if it goes under, I can always go back to media production.”

“That’s amazing, Care!” I say, and as the words leave my mouth, I’m overwhelmed by how much I want to tell her about Christian. But I can’t. “Wine isn’t enough! We need food. Lots of food.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Carolyn can’t stop smiling about her newest venture.

“Chinese!” we both say in unison, and break down in giggles.

* * *

Once we’ve finished up the sweet and sour chicken and egg rolls and the credits have run for the final movie, my lust for Christian starts creeping back in, slowly ramping up throughout the evening until my entire body throbs. By the time Carolyn says goodnight, I’m coiled tight around my desire. We move through the apartment, turning off all the lights, checking to make sure the door is locked, and then I make a mad dash to my bedroom.

After hastily brushing my teeth, I strip off the yoga pants and slide under the covers wearing my panties and tank top.

I want him so badly.

I could text him right now.

That’s the worst part.

I have his cell number in case I need to contact him outside of business hours for a PR emergency.

This is an emergency, but it doesn’t have to do with his reputation…at least not yet.

Instead, I slip my hand down across the smooth skin of my stomach, down, down underneath the silky fabric of my panties until my fingers make contact with my aching clit. Then, while imagining Christian’s hard masculine body pressed against me, I get myself off—once, then twice, before I fall asleep.

* * *

I’m wishing I could spend most of the day somewhere private. It doesn’t help that Christian is my one and only client, so all my working hours are dedicated to him. Looking at his picture. Piecing together a tentative schedule of social appearances designed to smooth out the rough edges of his reputation to convince the public that that he’s mature and professional enough to run a Fortune 500 company.

My attention is focused on Christian, but I can’t concentrate on what I’m supposed to be doing, only the hot, steady pulsing between my legs, begging for a release that can’t be satisfied in the office.

Christian could help me with that, though, the voice in my head taunts me.

“Ha.” I let out a short burst of laughter under my breath. Christian Pierce could give me what I needed at any time and in virtually any location. I’m positive about that.

He said he would see me before our meeting tomorrow. That meeting is at ten o’clock.

As the hours crawl by, the possibility of seeing him today becomes completely distracting. I want to do nothing but lean back in my chair and imagine all the things we could do together—all the things that he could do to me—but through sheer willpower, I force myself to doggedly keep building the schedule of appearances, keep writing sample press releases, keep my phone tucked into my purse.

If he wants to see me, he’ll call.

There’s always the chance that he didn’t mean what he said. I’ve met plenty of rich, arrogant guys who go back on their word or make promises with no intention of keeping them. I’ve been engaged to one such asshole who never meant what he said, so it wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve fallen for someone like that.

I’m wound so tight that by the time five o’clock rolls around and the office empties out, I can’t bring myself to leave. I stare at my computer screen, finishing tasks that could very easily be left for tomorrow, until it’s nearly six o’clock.

He still hasn’t called or sent a message of any kind.

My heart sinks as I ride the elevator down to the lobby alone. Unless he’s planning some early-morning rendezvous—and how could he do that without letting Carolyn in on it?—then his word was a playful half-promise, not to be trusted.

My disappointment shocks me.

Until I see the Town Car pulled up to the curb, the driver leaning against it.

He straightens to his full height when he sees me coming. “Ms. Campbell?”

“Yes, that’s me,” I answer, my heart starting to beat heavily. Whose car is this? I didn’t order a ride home. Should I be ready to run in case this is some kind of bizarre kidnapping attempt?

“Mr. Pierce sent me to pick you up. He’d like to meet with you.”

I bite my lip, hesitating. This is so wrong. It’s such a risk. I should leave right now and put an end to this whole thing.

“Can I see your I.D.?” I say, buying myself a little more time.

The man produces an I.D. wallet and shows it to me, smiling so that his expression matches the photo on his license. His name is Louis.

“How do I know you work for Mr. Pierce?”

He pulls a cell phone from his jacket pocket and presses a single button. Waits for one second. Christian’s voice sounds from the other end of the line. “Pierce,” he says.

“Ms. Campbell would like to make sure I work for you.” Then he hands me the phone.

“Hello?” I say, trying to keep my cool.

“It’s me,” Christian says, and the sound of his voice makes my insides melt. “Come to me. Right now.”

I hang up the call.

I can still walk away.

This could all be over.

But I don’t.

I give Louis a single nod, and he reaches across in front of me and pulls open the door of the Town Car. I scramble into the back seat, and he closes the door behind me.

Here goes nothing.