I stare at the looming skyscraper in front of me, a tray of coffees balanced in one hand and my purse in the other. I’ve been trying to convince myself to walk in there, but I can’t seem to do it.

“Taylor!” I swivel around, scanning people on the sidewalk, seeing my colleague Steph teetering toward me. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I sigh out.

“You too?” She looks at the building with me. “I’ve been desperately wishing for a catastrophic power failure or something so I didn’t have to come in today.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She takes the coffee I hand her. “Thanks. Come on, like a Band-Aid, let's rip this shit off.”

I hesitate to follow her until she glances back. With one last breath of fresh January air, I jump into action. My heels click on the sidewalk and the tiled lobby, over to the elevators.

“Where did you disappear to at New Year? Both Michael and I looked for you after midnight,” she asks as we ride up to our floor.

The doors open and we walk out and down the hallway before I answer, “I didn’t feel like hanging around.”

“Hey, are you okay?”

We stop in front of my desk and I smile wide at her. Fake it ’til you make it, right? “I’m fine, I’m just recovering from a two-day hangover on top of the January blues.”

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a bottle of pills. “Here. Take two Advil and you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Steph.” She waves me off and we say our goodbyes as she walks farther down the hallway to her desk.

I twist open the cap on the bottle and shake two out, taking them with a swig of coffee before turning and groaning at the pile of paperwork already placed in the middle of my desk. I take off my coat and place it on the back of my chair while reading over sticky notes placed all over the top file.

I look up, tensing when I see my boss walking toward me. His face is serious, wiped of any emotion as he says, “Taylor, my office,” and grabs a coffee, walking past me and into his office.

I follow him immediately, my chest tightening. “Sir?”

He walks over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back facing me. “Shut the door.” I do as I’m told, and he continues. “You’ve been with this company for three years now and I’ve always been good to you, haven’t I?” I grit my teeth, nodding when he looks over his shoulder. Thinking about all the late nights he’s made me do on top of taking on work that isn’t in my job description; it's total bullshit. Not to mention having to put up with his shitty attitude. “So if you’ll give me the courtesy, I’d like to put what happened at the New Year’s party behind us.”

I’m not losing my job after all. That’s a relief.

I nod profusely until he interrupts my thoughts. “Even if you were being a little tease.”

My gaze narrows on him and I clear my throat. “A tease? I have never been such a thing.”

“Don’t try and bullshit a bullshitter, Miss Moore. Your whole vibe; desperate to please me, always going above and beyond for your job—”

“Was to prove I’m more worthy than the tasks I’m given. I took this job three years ago because you assured me it was a stepping stone to bigger things.”

“And I've entrusted you with more things than what's in your job description, have I not?”

“Well yes, but—”

“There we go then; bigger and better things have been thrown your way.”

“But—”

“Don’t try and make out like New Year’s was my fault. I don’t take kindly to being accused of such things.” He straightens out the cuffs of his suit jacket. “Now, we have a meeting with some important clients in conference room two. I’ll need you in there taking notes.”

I don’t move, my feet feeling like they’re made of lead as I burn holes into the side of his head with my stare.

He picks up a file off his desk before glancing up at me with a bored expression on his face. “You can go now we’ve cleared up your little misunderstanding.”

I feel myself shaking as I force myself to turn on my heels, walking out of his office and over to my desk. I pick up the company laptop I use to take notes on since he insists I use it because he thinks my writing is illegible.

I can’t believe he said this was my fault! I’m so angry I could scream. And, yeah, I’m angry at him, but I’m beyond livid at myself for not sticking it to him and telling him how this was going to go down. So, I’ll secretly rage at him and call him a few choice curse words behind his back because what else can I do?

Picking up the top file off my desk, I walk down to conference room two. Sitting in one of the leather chairs around the long glass table, I set up the laptop.

Five minutes pass before one of our lead graphic designers—Leela—pops her head in the room and smiles at me. “Hey, Taylor, if anyone arrives before I'm back can you tell them I’ve had to run down to HR, please?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Chica.” I’ve always liked Leela but I’m also insanely jealous of her job. I always have been since I originally applied for the very position she’s in now but struck out because she already had a year’s experience in the field.

I peer at the file in front of me, noticing the company we're meeting with isn't one I recognize, almost jumping out of my seat when someone clears their throat.

I paste a smile on my face and stand, greeting the man in an expensive-looking suit with a shake of my hand. “Hi, welcome to Noble Marketing.”

He scans the length of my body. “Thank you. And you are?”

“My assistant,” my A-hole boss says as he walks into the room, his hand outstretched. “Mr. Benton, how good to see you again.”

Sitting back down in my chair, I try to hide the humiliation of him dismissing me as “his assistant”—as if I was the least important person Mr. Benton could meet. I have to bite my lip to keep me from saying something.

Keeping my gaze on the laptop in front of me, I wish for it to suck me into it so I can disappear from here. People start filing into the room and the meeting begins, my boss starting his ridiculous proposal—I say ridiculous because he always has these grand ideas before the designers and marketers quash them down as unrealistic.

I can’t believe he got put in charge of this company instead of his brother after his father retired. A design and marketing genius he is not. He’s merely a pretender in an expensive suit with an entitled attitude.

I type notes on everything that's said, not bothering to take my eyes off the keyboard until a voice that sends tingles down my spine says, “Not exactly the angle we were going for.”

I raise my head slowly, meeting the dark-brown gaze of Zander on the other side of the room. What is he doing here?

His hair is neatly mussed, the expensive black suit he’s wearing fitting him to perfection. His shirt is bordering thin enough you can see the tattoos I know are underneath.

“What about you?” Zander asks, motioning toward me. “What’s your opinion?”

I’m lost in his intense stare so I don’t notice everyone else is staring at me too until I break our connection and look around the room.

“Her? She’s just an assistant.” My boss dismisses Zander’s question with ease. I don't think he recognizes him from the party, or at least he’s not showing he does.

Zander doesn’t move his gaze from mine as he says, “I want to know what you’re thinking.”

To anyone else in the room it would seem like a perfectly acceptable thing to say. We’re in a business meeting, of course he’d ask for people’s opinions. But somehow I know his statement has an underlying meaning only he and I are privy to.

I clear my throat. “I… agree with you. From what’s been said so far, I would be inclined to go for a more simpler marketing strategy.” I take a breath. “For your campaign you need to tone down the fancy designs and go simple. I think—"

"Miss Moore," my boss grinds out, halting my speech.

Everyone in the room is silent, Zander running a finger over his lip, his all-consuming expression setting my soul on fire before he looks over at Mr. Benton who simply nods.

Zander glances back at me. “I want her,” he says with so much conviction, my thighs snap tightly together and I have to refrain from biting my lip and crawling across the table into his lap. “To work on this with us,” he clarifies.

“M-me?” I stammer out, pointing at my chest.

Everyone looks as confused as I feel but I can't pull my focus away from him for longer than a second. He finally tears his gaze away from me, leaving me feeling raw.

My boss clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Reed, but she’s not a designer.”

Fuck no! I’ve had enough of this man undermining me and my abilities. “Actually…” I stand and look at everyone around the room. “I graduated from the prestigious Rhode Island School of Design. I came top of my class before moving back home to get a job in my favorite city. I have an online portfolio if you’d like to take a look?”

I don’t wait for my boss’s approval, typing my website into the browser and pinging it up onto the projector screen they were using for the presentation. I’ve been working freelance since I finished college, building an impressive portfolio if I do say so myself.

“Everything on here I designed myself.” I pick up the laptop and place it in front of Zander and his team so they can take a closer look at everything.

Everyone in the room is silent, Zander running a finger over his lip again as he uses the other hand to scroll through my website. “She is more than capable.”

My boss fumes, turning his gaze on me and gritting out, “If it’s her you want, then I guess we can come to some arrangement. But I can assure you we have much more experienced designers: Leela here being the best.”

Leela smiles gratefully at him but shoots me a wink, mouthing, “You’ve got this.”

"What about a trial?” I blurt out, hope blooming in my chest at the chance to show everyone that I can do this. “We can come up with a few mockups and if you don’t like any of them I'll happily bow out and let Leela work her magic.”

I’m clutching at straws, I can feel the seething anger directed toward me from my boss. His hands clenching and unclenching as he sighs, “If that’s what you want, Mr. Reed.”

Zander nods firmly. “It’s definitely what I want.”

“And your partner?”

“Is away on business but I know he won’t doubt my judgement. We trust each other explicitly.” Zander’s face screws up for a second but it’s gone when he stands, buttoning up his jacket. “What's your name?”

He’s acting like we don’t know each other which I’m thankful for. “Miss Moore, but please, call me Taylor.”

“Well, Taylor, grab your coat. I’m taking you to an early brunch meeting.” I freeze, my gaze darting from Zander to my boss. “I have a spare hour and I’d like to get this wrapped up sooner rather than later.” The four people in the room he brought with him, including the man I first greeted, stand. “Mark, can you take the others back to the office, I don’t think I’ll be needing you for this first meeting.”

Mr. Benton—or Mark as Zander called him—nods and they all file out one by one, Leela squeezing my arm as she walks past. “Congrats, your designs are killer.”

I shoot her a grateful smile before looking back at the only two people left in the room besides me.

My boss has a sour expression on his face as he turns to Zander. “Mr. Reed, can I ask to accompany you both?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

I have to stop myself from laughing at the look on my boss’s face.

“I beg your pardon?”

Zander glances up with a smirk twisting his lips. “I’m saying no. You clearly don’t like this arrangement and I don’t want any interruptions at the meeting. You won the deal, what does it matter which designer it’s with?”

“Because Miss Moore is not a designer here.”

Zander walks over to the door, motioning for me to follow him. “Then you’ve clearly had your head in the sand. You’d be crazy not to fire her as your assistant and re-hire her as a designer.”

* * *

My heart's trying to jump out of my chest and with every movement of his hands and fingers on the steering wheel, it’s like I can feel them on me.

I want to ask him a million questions, but I start with a basic one. “Did you choose Noble Marketing because of me?”

“Believe it or not, I didn’t. I’m not the stalker here, Taylor.”

He winks at me and I melt into the leather of my seat. “You being there today was a coincidence then?”

“Not a coincidence, no. I’ve had a proposal meeting booked for the last three months, although I wasn’t supposed to be there today.” He lets me mull that over before adding, “As a potential client, I was invited to the New Year’s party.” Well, that makes a lot more sense than him arranging a meeting just to see me.

The little fizzle of hope in me deflates like an old balloon. I was left behind with Kai and although he’s hot as hell and charming to boot, it’s Zander I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

“Me and Kai were supposed to show face for an hour and skip town to fly to England. I wasn’t expecting to be caught up by a firecracker like you,” he states.

I snort. “A firecracker?”

He shifts in his seat. “That’s one thing I could call you.” Clearing his throat, the huskiness from his voice dulls. “I'm serious about this job. You want it? It’s yours.”

“But you've hardly heard what I've got in mind.”

“No need. I know for a fact we’re in safe hands.”

I narrow my eyes as he starts to drive down a street I know is only residential. “I thought we were going for brunch?”

He smirks but doesn’t say anything, parallel-parking outside a townhouse with a black fence around it. He climbs out of the car, opening my door for me and holding out his hand.

“If we’re going for brunch, what are we doing here?” His eyes smolder as he locks the car, placing a hand on the bottom of my back and gently guiding me toward the house. He opens the gate and lets me walk through first. “Is this your house?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?”

“Only when I think I’m about to be kidnapped,” I retort with a smirk.

I walk into the entryway of the house when he opens the door, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

The decorative artwork adorning the walls is edgy and I move toward a colorful piece that catches my attention.

He moves behind me. “I definitely didn’t bring you here to kidnap you. It’s not kidnapping if you came here willingly.”

I snort out a nervous laugh at his joke. “Well that’s reassuring.” I continue admiring the artwork on the walls until he clears his throat.

“You like art?”

“Of course.” I bite my lip as my gaze roams down his body. “I appreciate all works of art.”

A grunting sound escapes from his throat and I look up, taking in his torn expression—the same one he had on his face before he practically ran out of my apartment yesterday. “Why did you leave?”

He takes a step back, running his hand through his hair and making it stick out in all directions. “Are you hungry?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I reply, following him into a modern kitchen with dark wooden counters while taking off my coat.

“I’m aware. I chose not to.” He opens the refrigerator, peering inside.

I place my coat on the kitchen island. “What's your deal?”

He looks at me, a brow raised. “My deal?”

Bracing one hand on my hip, I use my other hand to count things off. “You turned up to my workplace, hired me on the spot to design your advertisements even though my job title isn’t a designer. You insisted I was coming to brunch with you but instead brought me back to what I’m guessing is your house. And now you won’t answer a simple question. Call me crazy, Mr. Reed, but I’m assuming you don’t do this with all your designers.” My gaze flits between his eyes. “I don’t want to be treated any differently than you would with designers you've used in the past just because we had one night of sex.”

He kicks the door to the refrigerator shut, taking two steps toward me and backing me up against the kitchen island. “Is that all it was to you?” I swallow at the look in his eyes. “One night of sex? Is that why you turned up to Kai’s apartment calling my name? Not Kai’s... mine.” The same torn expression from earlier flits across his features. “You’re different, no matter how much I try and fight what I’m feeling. You’re more than one night to me.” He brushes a thumb across my cheek. “Tell me it didn’t mean more to you and I can stop fucking thinking about—”

I throw my lips against his in a clumsy kiss, effectively cutting him off and giving him the answer he was clearly wanting.

His fingers tangle in my hair and he gently pulls so my head is tilting upward, giving him access to my neck. “You’re fucking intoxicating… an addiction I can finally immerse myself in.”

His hands make quick work of my blouse, undoing the buttons and revealing my white lacy bra as I replay what he said in my head. An addiction?

He groans, running his hands over the lace, pulling it to the side and encasing my nipple in his mouth, working it with his tongue piercing.

Does this mean he felt the connection I did after we had sex the first time?

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he commands, grasping the hem of my pencil skirt and pulling it around my hips to reveal matching panties—thank God for D buying me matching underwear.

He runs his hands over my ass before twirling us around so he’s leaning against the counter now, pressing his hardness into me. “I was thanking D for the lingerie.”

He pushes me back slightly, admiring it. “Well thank you, D.”

A quick smack on my ass has me jumping. “Did you just spank me?”

He grins. “There’s a lot more where that came from.”

His lips return to mine and I peel off his jacket, fumbling with his tie and shirt buttons as I kick off my heels. Once they’re off, I’m lifted by my ass and shoved against the wall.

I groan as he nips down my neck. “Tell me you want me,” he growls.

“I do,” I stutter out.

“You do what?”

“I want you, Zander.”

“Just me?”

I know what he’s asking, I don’t need to think twice. “Only you.”

It’s all the go-ahead he needs to turn us and start walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He pushes through a door at the end of a hallway and we walk into a masculine bedroom, all dark accents and edgy artwork again. But I don’t have time to take in everything as he throws me down onto the bed with fire in his eyes.

“Take off your skirt,” he orders, my nipples hardening under his authoritative tone.

The way he watches me as I undo the zipper and lift my hips up, shimmying out of it makes me feel all kinds of sexy. “It’s your turn,” I say breathily.

He smirks, and I watch his muscles ripple as he unsheathes his belt, pulling down his slacks and revealing the arousal he’s been keeping at bay.

He cranes his finger so I crawl across the bed, kneeling in front of him. “I have a feeling you had this planned, Mr. Reed.”

He growls and brushes my hair out of my face, smoothing a hand down my back and deftly unhooking my bra. Taking one strap and slowly moving it down my arm, he never takes his eyes away from mine. “Not planned, but I was hoping like hell.”

Placing my lips against his chest, I lick a path to his nipple, circling the silver bar I never noticed before. He groans in approval so I continue on my path, teasing him as I make my way to the other that’s also pierced.

I slowly caress down his taut, muscled stomach into the dip at the side of his hips, sliding a hand down until I feel the shaft of his cock, not once looking away from his eyes.

Grasping it firmly, I circle the head with my fingertip, spreading pre-cum around before lifting my finger to my mouth and tasting him.

“Fuck me,” he growls, pushing me back on the bed and pulling my underwear down my legs.

Within seconds his tongue is on me, teasing my clit with skilled flicks. I clench my hands around the soft sheets of his bed, my legs twitching every time he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth.

“Yes,” I moan, looking down and seeing his gaze trained on me.

He smiles against me, moving his finger to my entrance and sliding it in while still devouring me with his mouth.

My head slams back against the bed and I move my hips in a rhythm matching his finger, moaning as he slides in another, hitting a spot inside, making me cry out.

“That’s it, baby.”

He continues working my clit like a fucking champ and I can’t hold back anymore. I grasp his hair between my fingers and scream my pleasure, calling out his name.

He pulls back, kissing my thigh as he does. “I could watch you come for me all fucking day long.” He stands, grabbing his cock. “You make me so hard it hurts.”

I lean up on my elbows. “Then let’s relieve some of your tension.”

He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom wrapper, biting it open and rolling it onto his erection. Lust, want, and need shine in the depths of his eyes but I don’t get to look into them for long as he spins me around, pulling me back so our hips align.