My eyes were fixed on the phone in my hand. On the screen was a woman posed in blue lingerie in front of a mirror, her rear facing the camera as she looked over her shoulder, a coquettish expression on her face.

This wasn’t just any girl, however—this was a picture sent to me from Felicity.

“It’s not too late,” said the text that came after the photo.

I sighed and tossed the phone onto the vast sweep of my desk. With everything going on, Felicity throwing herself at me was the last thing I wanted to worry about. Part of me wanted to tell Hunter, to show the pictures she’d been sending me and let him know what kind of woman he was involved with.

But he’d been oddly distant since the night of the party, busy with his own work. At least, that’d been my plan. He’d shown me what he was capable of getting up to when he wasn’t sufficiently occupied, and I’d loaded him down with the sort of client-facing work he actually had a knack for, hoping it would be just the way to keep him from messing around with investors.

Or coming across other information I didn’t want him to know.

It seemed to be working out thus far. Hunter was busy and I’d been able to have my meetings with investors without him getting in the way. So far, so good.

But this nonsense with Felicity was getting out of control. I thought the matter had been taken care of back at the investor party, but then she started blowing up my phone with all sorts of scandalous pictures. I wasn’t tempted in the slightest, but it was more than a little annoying.

It was getting to the point where I was seriously considering blocking her phone number. Only the drama that would follow from such a move kept me from doing it.

I sighed and got up from my desk. It was all so frustrating—I wanted to focus on my work, not these distractions.

A knock sounded at my office door as I stood looking out over the city. It was a knock I recognized.

“Come in,” I called out.

Speaking of distractions.

Chelsea stepped into the room, that gorgeous, coy smile I loved playing on her face. She was dressed in a form-fitting pencil skirt, a white blouse that clung tightly to her breasts, and sheer black pantyhose that disappeared down into a pair of glossy black pumps.

“Goddamn,” I said, the word shooting out of my mouth as though out of my control.

She shut the door behind her and leaned back against it.

“Such a potty mouth,” she said, playfully wagging her finger.

I strode across the office and placed my hands on her hips when I arrived in front of her.

“If you don’t want me to swear when I see you, then don’t dress like that.”

I kneaded her hips through her skirt, feeling the outline of her panties through it.

“Dress like what?” she asked.

“You know what I mean,” I said. “You’re like every man’s sexy secretary fantasy come to life.”

I leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips, but Chelsea stopped me with a fingertip on my mouth.

“But I’m not the secretary,” she said. “I’m the head of your social enterprise division. And don’t you forget it.”

“Touché,” I said, my mouth muffled by her finger.

I opened my mouth just enough to take her finger into it, but she took it away and slipped out of my grasp.

“No time for a lunch break?” I asked, the implication clear.

“Just had mine,” she said. “You’ll have to find something else to snack on.”

Chelsea slid into the office couch, crossing her legs. A pensive expression appeared on her face as soon as she sat down.

“You look like you have something on your mind,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just thinking about the next step for the housing project. Getting all of the red tape cleared away just to be able to knock down the building has been so much pressure I don’t even know what to do with myself now that it’s all over. Maybe I should pester the architects?”

“Supervise the demolition and make sure that everything’s in order for the next phases.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “Just trying to catch a breather.”

Now that I had a chance to look her over, I noticed that there was something off about Chelsea, as though she was under the weather.

“You OK?” I asked. “I mean, physically?”

I took a seat on the couch next to her, slipping my arm around her shoulder. She placed her head on me as soon as I did, a sigh sounding from her lips.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve just been feeling weird recently. Sore in weird places, not sleeping well, and eating like an animal.”

“You’ve always had a healthy appetite,” I said. “It’s one of the many, many things I enjoy about you.”

She turned just enough to smile at me. “It’s different. I don’t know what else to say. There’s just something off.”

I considered the matter.

“I’d bet you anything it’s from you working that gorgeous ass of yours off,” I said. “You’ve been putting everything you have into this initiative, and as admirable as it is, you’re bound to run out of fuel at some point. Trust me—I know all about overworking.”

She nodded, nuzzling her head into the nook between my arm and my chest. I gave her a squeeze, savoring the feeling of her body against mine. My cock was still half-stiff, but now wasn’t the time for any of that.

“Have you called your doctor?”

She shook her head.

“How about this,” I said. “I’ll put in a call to the clinic near the apartment. They’re usually pretty good about getting me in without too much notice. We can have them check you out tomorrow and make sure that it’s nothing to worry about.”

“That would be nice,” she said.

“Like I said—I’d be shocked as hell if they told you it was anything other than fatigue. But not a chance in hell I’m not going to err on the side of caution.”

She lifted her head from my arm and planted a soft kiss on my cheek. “Thanks,” she said.

She slipped out from under my arm, the warmth of her body replaced instantly with the cool air of the office. I wanted her back next to me right away

Chelsea stretched out, the definition of her stunning legs visible through her pantyhose. My cock twitched again as her breasts strained against her blouse, and I scolded myself internally for getting so caught up in sex when she was suffering.

“OK,” she said. “I’m going to finish up a few things before heading out.”

“Perfect,” I said. “It’s Friday, so what do you think about some takeout and a quiet night in?”

“Sounds absolutely heavenly,” she said. “Maybe I’ll make you something special for dessert.”

She flashed me a wink over her shoulder, and my eyes followed her all the way out as she disappeared behind the shutting door.

As the door clicked shut, I realized that woman had a hold on me I’d never felt before. I got up from the couch and took a seat behind my computer, pulling up the number for the doctor’s office near my place. I dialed them up and made the appointment. Luckily, they were able to make room for Chelsea the next day.

I was all set to hang up and fire off a text to Chelsea. But just as I was saying my goodbyes to the receptionist on the other end, a call came through. The beep was a surprise—only a few people had my personal line. A quick check of my phone revealed the caller: MOM.

I quickly ended the call with the doctor’s and clicked over.

“Mom!” I said, a brightness coming to my voice. “How are you?”

“Oh, hello, Bryce,,” came the voice of Barbara, my adopted mother.

“How are you?” I asked, happy to hear her.

“I’m fine. I’m well,” she said. “How’s the business going?”

She was keeping things innocuous, but I could tell that there was a reason she was calling. And it wasn’t just to check in.

“It’s going fine,” I said, eager to get to whatever it was she had on her mind. “Just keeping busy with work and the new girl.”

I hated having to lie to my mom, but it came with the territory. At least I didn’t have to lie about us being romantically involved.

“I can’t believe I still haven’t met this girl,” she said, “but if she looks anything like that picture you sent, then she’s a beauty.”

A silence passed. I decided to get right to it.

“Mom, there’s something wrong. I can tell.”

A sigh came from the other end of the line. “Bryce, I don’t know how to tell you this, but it’s your father.”

“What?” I asked, my voice rising, my heart beating faster. “What happened?”

“He had a stroke.”

I wanted to speak, but nothing came out. I took a breath then asked, “Are you serious? Is he OK?”

“He’s fine,” she said. “He’s doing just fine. It happened a couple of days ago.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“What? And why am I just now hearing about this?”

“Because,” she said, “it was very small, nothing to worry about. Even so, I wanted to tell you right away, but you know how your father is.”

Stubborn as hell was the answer to that.

“What, so he was just going to have a stroke and not tell me? What happened?”

“It was the strangest thing. We were at home like any other night, having some snacks and watching TV. Then your father tells me he’s feeling funny and then tries to get up. But as soon as he’s off the couch, he makes this choking noise and falls over like someone pulled the plug from him. I let out a scream, but he gets right back up to his feet. Then he tells me he’s feeling numb and needs to go to bed. I tell him there’s no way he’s not seeing a doctor right this instant.”

“Stubborn, stubborn man,” I said.

“You’re right about that. And good thing I didn’t let up, because as soon as we get halfway to the hospital he starts going numb in one hand. Anyway, I got him there fine, and the doctors took care of him, let him out in the morning.”

“And he didn’t want you to tell me.”

“Ridiculous, I know,” she said. “But that’s your father, never likes to show when he’s suffering. But I knew that you’d want to know, so here I am.”

I gritted my teeth, frustrated that he’d been so damn stubborn. But I wasn’t surprised.

“And when I decided to call you,” she said, “I realized how long it’d been since I’d talked to you, let alone seen you, baby.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I’ve just been so busy with work.”

“I know, I know—you’re the CEO and all that. I don’t want to lay the mother’s guilt on you too thick, but this could’ve been much worse than it was. We all got lucky.”

The hint was loud and clear, and I agreed with what she’d asked without asking.

“This might be a good weekend to come visit,” I said. “Chelsea’s just hit a major milestone with her division, and she should be able to take it easy for a few days before getting back into it.”

“That would make me so happy,” she said. “And your father, too. Not that he’d show that much emotion about it.”

I chuckled, knowing how stoic and old-fashioned he could be.

“I’ll run it by Chelsea, but it should work.”

“Let me know,” she said. “I love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

Then she hung up. My heart finally began to slow down now that I knew my dad was OK. But Mom was right—it could’ve just as easily been a major stroke, one that he might not have recovered from.

I pulled up Chelsea’s number and fired off a text.

“How would you feel about a lovely weekend in the Pacific Northwest?”