The Executive by K.I. Lynn

Author:K.I. Lynn [Lynn, K.I.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Catastrophic Press
Published: 2019-01-29T18:30:00+00:00

Lincoln

I got shafted, and not in a good way.

Nothing happened after our make-out session on the deck of the yacht except blue balls that were making me an even crankier asshole.

Being on a boat in the middle of the water kept us from doing anything and by the time the boat returned, Ivy was falling asleep on her feet.

All I wanted to do was take her back to my place, but she was too tired.

Since then, she avoided me as best she could. Never getting too close, her eyes failing to meet mine. When they did, she crumbled under my gaze.

A week had passed and with each passing day she dodged me. By Thursday I was going out of my mind. My normally straight-talking, candid assistant was playing coy and seeming contrite.

I thought we had a moment. I thought we were moving onto something more, but instead, she slammed the door in my face. Whatever happened was suddenly gone, almost as if she regretted letting her guard down. I was half expecting her to blame it on the champagne, but I knew that was the real Ivy with me.

The intern, whatever her name was, only seemed to create a barrier in the office.

“Miss Prescot!” I yelled out.

Agitation vibrated, pulsing with the blood in my veins, searching for any outlet.

“Yes, Mr. Devereux?”

“Where the fuck are the reports from accounting?”

“I’m sorry, sir. The phone has been ring—”

I cut her off, not wanting to hear. “I don’t give a fuck about your excuses. Get me the reports, now.”

She nodded before turning and racing out.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Things couldn’t continue the way they were. I was pushing her further away, the opposite of what I needed.

I needed her closer, to get her to open up her legs—

Open up about Dante.

Fuck. Even my thoughts of revenge had turned into hunger for her pussy. I didn’t want just knowledge about Dante. I wanted to know her.

“Where’s my lunch?” I asked when she returned with a stack of files a few minutes later.

“It’s eleven-thirty.”

I narrowed my gaze on her. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

She backed up. “I’ll go get it right now.”

It was her fault. She drove me to the beastly attitude that I was overcome with. It compounded with every day she kept her distance.

“Why do you keep coming in?” I spat an hour later when she crossed my threshold.

“Because you asked me to,” she snapped back. It was the first sign of her feisty personality I’d seen all week. Maybe if I kept pressing it, she would push back.

“Go get my dry cleaning.”

“I’ll send Stacey,” she said as she tapped on her phone.

“Who?” Who the fuck was Stacey?

“The intern.”

I often forgot about the little mouse that occupied a desk outside my office. Every time I looked at the girl, I was tempted to yell “Boo” at her just to see what would happen.

“I didn’t tell the intern to go, I told you.”

“She can’t direct your calls.”

“Then have them go to voicemail for half a fucking hour.

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