“Just a few more things, I promise.” Lily flashed a smile up at James as she filed the last handwritten correspondence. She would type them up and send them tomorrow, early, before anyone was in the office.

“Don’t apologize.” James Dominick’s voice was deep, tolerant, amused. “You’re the one who had to go out of your way to finish things up. You should be home.”

But he sounded pleased as well. As far as she knew, he never stopped working. The lunches she brought him were often uneaten when she came to check on him a few hours later. He often beat even Lily to the office, and he stayed late. She knew from the emails he received that even when he went home, he was still thinking of his business ventures. He might tell her to take time off, but she knew he was glad to have someone as devoted as he was himself. She sensed that he got lonely sometimes.

Not that he would ever admit it. James was one of the premier businessmen in the world. His reach stretched into energy, food, and cloud computing, commodities…anything and everything she could imagine, he did. He thrived on his success, and he was far too stubborn to admit anything else might be lacking. Too stubborn, and too ruthless. James never hesitated to sacrifice anything that would ensure his success—and until he could, Lily knew he would never be able to have a relationship.

She had never told him, but she liked to think that she was slowly changing him. When she first came to his office, she’d been a secretary for one of the most junior staff, and everyone had been terrified of him. So terrifying was Lily’s boss that she was often sent to be the bearer of bad news; seeing how scared they all were, she couldn’t bring herself to insist that they do it. And when James yelled at her and told her just what to say to them when she went back, she’d done the inadvisable: told him that they were scared of him, that it wasn’t good management policy, and that he should be nicer to them all.

She’d been his secretary ever since, and if a few cynical people complained that it was just to make his image better without having to change at all, she liked to think that he saw the value in it. He’d even wished her a Merry Christmas this year, which was something she couldn’t even imagine when she began working for him. He was making progress.

And she…well, Lily didn’t like to think about her own life. Everything had been going so well lately: business contracts falling into place with eerie precision, her apartment clean and cozy, a new satin nightgown…

…That no one ever got to see. Lily tried to shove the thoughts away, but for weeks now she had been looking around at her neat little life—well-packed lunchboxes, pretty work clothes, perfectly-worded emails—and wondering if something was missing. She’d always done everything perfectly. Wasn’t it supposed to feel…better than this? She found herself dreaming, over a glass of white wine, about doing something reckless, something poorly-behaved.

Something like daydreaming while at a one-on-one meeting with her boss, perhaps? She shook her head to clear it, realizing he’d been staring at her while she’d been staring off into nowhere.

“Lily?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She opened up the next folder. “All right. I got a very strange email earlier today from a…Kenneth Watts.” She looked up and saw him go still.

“What did it say?” He asked, and his voice was tight.

“That he knows what you did. Frankly, it seems very much like some of the other emails you get. People are always angry about successful business deals, you know.” She tried to tempt him into a laugh or a smile, but he was having none of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?” He demanded.

“Because you were in meetings all day,” Lily protested. “You told me to interrupt you only if the transnational trade bill went through.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to look this man up?”

“No,” Lily said firmly, recognizing the downswing of his temper. “It did not. There was no reason for me to do so. Whatever you think I should know about this man—”

“When did the email come in?”

“10 AM.”

He swore.

“James, what on earth is going on?”

“That man,” he said savagely, “has taken it upon himself to police the business world. He doesn’t like my deals. He wants to punish me for them.”

“It’s hardly wrong to make business deals everyone agrees to,” Lily said gently. It was the refrain he used in such situations, and she felt confident that it would calm him. When he only looked at her bleakly, she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. She knew. She knew he’d done something terrible, she just didn’t know what. “James, what did you do?”

“Nothing,” he hissed.

She met his eyes, and he grimaced at her.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“I’m your secretary! I send all of your emails. I know your secrets.”

“Not all of them.” His voice was clipped.

“What on earth wouldn’t you be willing to tell me?”

“I—” But his phone buzzed, and his face went white when he looked at the screen. “I have to make a call.”

“But—”

He was already gone, taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time. Lily slumped back in her chair, thinking furiously. Something about this email had seemed off to her. People normally railed at James in their emails, telling him that karma or God or luck would come to get him for what he’d done. She was used to ignoring those. This one, so short and chilling, had gotten her attention.

The door behind her opened so quietly that she almost didn’t hear it at all. The key had been turned near-silently, and the door itself swung inwards with only the faintest creak. But a creak there was, and a faint swirl of cold air, and Lily felt the back of her neck prickle. Heart suddenly pounding, she turned, telling herself that it was the settling of the building and nothing more.

Three men in black stood there, heavily armed, staring her down.

Lily screamed. She was running for the kitchen, for the exit at the other end of the house, knowing that she could not possibly outrun them and knowing she had to try anyway.

“James!” Her voice echoed up the stairs. She looked back and felt another prickle. They weren’t following her, the men with guns. They were just watching her go. Why?

The next second, she knew. She collided with a fourth as he stepped out of the shadows of the kitchen, a scream hastily covered by one black-gloved hand, her arm twisted behind her and her body locked against her captor’s. She struggled, wishing like hell she’d worn heels with points on the front of them, and wishing as well that she had started doing all of that strength training she’d planned on this year. She was no match for this man; his muscles might well have been iron, for all he was moved by her struggles.

And it occurred to her, with a kind of hysterical clarity, that she had not been pressed up against a man like this in years. She could feel the rock-hard muscles of his thighs, the flatness of his stomach, and the bulge of his bicep where he held her in place. Ice-blue eyes met hers with piercing clarity, and something stirred in their depths. A deep breath moved that hard chest…

“Search the house.” He spoke over her head, and then he turned her forcibly, picked her up, and carried her back to the couch, his hand still pressed over her mouth. Lily made a strangled noise that was supposed to be, why? And his muscles tightened. “Don’t. Make. A Sound.” His breath stirred the hair by her ear.

She shivered with awareness, telling herself not to be stupid, that he was a hired thug, a man who would likely kill her sooner than bargain with her. It didn’t matter: her body was on fire, and she could not stop shaking. She was very aware of where the buttons on her blouse had opened, and cold air caressed the heated skin of her breasts. She was very aware of his touch on her stomach where his arm kept her locked in place, her back pressed against his body.

The rest of them came down the stairs a moment later, and Lily blinked. There were four now. More than one of them must have come in windows, getting into James’s highly protected house so easily that she could barely breathe for terror. They had been talking and these men had been coming for them, implacable and deadly…

“Well?” Her captor asked, and one of them shrugged his shoulders angrily.

“Safe room,” he said, muted anger running through his voice. “It’d take hours to get in there, and our call block will run out soon. We need to be out of here quick.” His gaze traveled over Lily.

“Who’s that?”

“Good question.” Her captor took his hand away. “Don’t scream.” The threat in his voice made her tremble. “Who are you?”

“Lily McDermott. I’m Mr. Dominick’s secretary.”

“Think she could talk him out?” One of the thugs asked, and the ringleader gave him a look.

“No. But I think she could give him a good reason to change his mind on certain issues. Come on.” He started moving, dragging her toward the door.

“What?”

“You’re coming with us,” the man said, as if it was simple. He released her, making her stagger—making her traitorous body yearn for the touch of him again—and thrust her toward his second-in-command.

“But why?” Lily whispered. She twisted to look up, and the second-in-command looked down at her with melting brown eyes. His voice, a pleasant alto, was almost regretful.

“Mr. Dominick will need to change his mind on a few things before he gets you back.”