Heroic Alphas: Complete Box Set by Alexis Ashlie

Author:Alexis Ashlie [Ashlie, Alexis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-18T04:00:00+00:00

Well, ‘soon’ was tonight. At 6:30, to be precise. He’d called me at the office less than an hour before, just as the workday was wrapping up, to ask me to meet him downtown, easier than driving out to the ‘burbs from the hospital. I knew by the tone of his voice, warm and smooth as whisky, that our dinner and chat would be followed by a very special dessert. My pussy tingled just thinking of it.

I jotted down the time and the address of the restaurant on a pad on my desk, stowed my paperwork until the next day, and hurried off to the washrooms to freshen up before I left. I had just about enough time to make it home to shower, get dolled up, and head back into town to meet Dane.

I couldn’t wait.

But when I got back to my desk, Songé was there, her doll-pink face even more flushed than usual. On my desk, the jotting pad, with the details of our date written and thrice-underlined in blue ball-point, with Dane’s name engraved over and over around it. I struggled not to roll my eyes. What am I, twelve? I hated my doodling habit now more than ever. I hope to God she hadn’t seen it, even though it was inches from her skinny hip.

“Hey, Songé,” I said nervously. I’d worked for this woman long enough to recognize a blue norther on the way.

Her purple lips drew back into a smile-like grimace. “Hey, Callie.” She pointed with her chin at the handbag over my shoulder. “Where are you going?”

I stared at her as if it was the world’s most inane question. It was quittin’ time. I was quittin’. Around us, the half-dozen other employees at the art dealership were yelling their goodbyes and pushing their chairs against their desks. “I’m heading home,” I answered unnecessarily.

She frowned, her plucked platinum brows almost touching. “But the shipment of Maori art pieces has come in. You’re supposed to be cataloging them, remember?

These past few months, we’d been focusing a lot on aboriginal and First Nations art, as that was trending. The Maori shipment consisted of almost a hundred pieces, which needed to be tagged, cataloged, and stored in the system. “Of course, I will. I’ll get to them the moment I come in tomorrow.”

Songé shook her head firmly. “No, no, that just won’t do. I need them done tonight.”

My mouth dropped open so wide you could have played beer pong with me. “What? Why?”

She smirked. “I have several clients in LA waiting on some of the premium items, plus, if you remember, we have a show opening soon—”

“In more than a week!” I was aghast. “Surely we have time . . . “

“My dear, I’d be a lot more comfortable if you’d stay back and get it done for me.”

I couldn’t understand . . . just couldn’t . . . and then her black-rimmed eyes flicked to my notepad, the one that shrieked DaneDaneDane, and I knew. She knew that I knew.

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