Whitney G Williams Cocky Client (ang)

COCKY CLIENT A Novella Whitney G.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2017 by Whitney Gracia Williams. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior permission of the author. Cover design by Najla Qamber of Najla Qamber Designs. Proofreading by Evelyn Guy of Indie Edit Guy.

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page THE STEAMY COFFEE READS COLLECTION COCKY CLIENT: SYNOPSIS AUTHOR’S NOTE THE CLIENT THE PUBLICIST THE CLIENT THE PUBLICIST THE PUBLICIST ONE DAY LATER THE CLIENT THE PUBLICIST THE CLIENT THE CLIENT THE PUBLICIST THE CLIENT THE PUBLICIST THE CLIENT A Letter to the Reader SNEAK PEEK OF NAUGHTY BOSS THE BOSS SNEAK PEEK OF REASONABLE DOUBT

THE STEAMY COFFEE READS COLLECTION Naughty Boss Dirty Doctor Cocky Client

COCKY CLIENT: SYNOPSIS Today is officially the worst day of my life... I woke up five hours late after a reckless onenight stand with the sexiest, cockiest, and most arrogant man I’ve ever met. (And this asshole actually left a note: “I think you were lying to me about being “experienced” last night. You orgasmed three times, and that was before we made it to your bedroom. I also find it hard to believe you “usually wear silk or lingerie.” Your drawers are all full of cotton granny panties—The best man you’ve ever fucked...”) My top two clients from my PR company went to my number one competitor, my roommate ‘accidentally’ bleached my favorite suit, and my favorite coffee shop was shut down for “health concerns.” Still, none of those things dimmed my excitement for what was supposed to be the best four o’clock signing session of my career. I was on

the verge of signing the highest paying client in my company’s history, taking on a so-called “impossible” job that no publicist had been able to handle. But at four o’clock, there was no athlete, television personality, or celebrity. Instead, that sexy, arrogant one-night stand stepped into my office with a familiar smirk and introduced himself as my new, cocky client...

Copyright © 2017 by Whitney G. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author. Cover design by Najla Qamber of Najla Qamber Designs. Editing by Evelyn Guy of Indie Edit Guy.

For my mom, Nicole London, & Alice Tribue. Thank you all for putting up with me...

AUTHOR’S NOTE This book, Cocky Client, is Book #3 in my Steamy Coffee Reads Collection—a series of standalone novellas that I will release randomly and in between novels during 2017. Every novella in this series features a hot alpha male, a strong heroine, and a plot that is pure, HOT FUN. (In other words, these are long enough for you to enjoy over a cup of coffee whenever you’re in the mood for something hot, quick, and dirty :-) ) If you’re looking for other books in the Steamy Coffee Reads Collection that have been released thus far, they are listed below:

NAUGHTY BOSS DIRTY DOCTOR COCKY CLIENT

**If you’re looking for a longer read, I highly suggest my standalone novels.

Love, Whitney G.

PS—Special thanks to K. Bromberg for the awesome idea/encouragement.

THE CLIENT RYAN There was an art to being a perfect client—a delicate balance between getting what I needed, and ensuring that I was “progressing” behind closed doors in whatever way the publicist needed. Or, so I’d heard. Today marked the two-month term for my current publicist and she was glaring at me from across my desk—looking as if she was struggling to get a single word to fall out of her mouth. “Is your throat dry, Heather?” I pointed to the glass of water between us. “Is that why you keep clearing it?” “I keep clearing it because I’m hoping that what I’m about to ask you isn’t true.” She picked up the glass and drank half of it in one gulp. “A reporter from The New York Times called me at three o’ clock this morning to inform me that someone you used to date—” “I’ve never dated anyone.” I interrupted her.

“Fine.” She held up her hands. “Someone you used to screw. Better?” “Much better.” “Anyway,” she said, “she apparently is sitting down with one of his colleagues to do an expose piece on you, the man who still refuses to sit down and do interviews with reporters himself.” “I highly doubt she has any valuable information.” I leaned back in my chair. “I don’t typically talk about my personal life with whoever I happen to be fucking.” “Well, that’s good to know.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “This expose piece is a deeply personal one, and she’s using it to let the public see what type of man you really are behind closed doors. She’s provided them with some of the text messages you’ve sent her in the past.” She put on her reading glasses and looked at her notebook. “Here are the top four messages: One, I’m looking forward to fucking your mouth this weekend. Two, How wet is your pussy right now? Three, I’m impressed by the way you swallow. Four, Tell me how wet your pussy is right now.” I smiled. “What’s the problem?” “The problem is that your company is hoping to launch a global initiative within the next two years. You can’t afford anymore press like this, so I’ve alerted your CFO and he’s agreed to pay them a sum to kill the story.”

“So, once again, what is the problem?” “You need a new publicist.” She stood to her feet. “I’m done as of right now. Thank you very much for hiring my firm and taking a chance on me and my vision for you.” “You’re very welcome.” I stood up to shake her hand. I’d been in this position far too many times before to ask her any further questions, to wonder if something could’ve been done differently, or to even care about her abrupt resignation. The second she left my office, I’d have another publicist walking into the building to take her place. “I wish you all the best, Mr. Dalton. I truly do,” she said. “I hope you find the right firm who’ll be better equipped to handle your account and your huge—” She glanced at the crotch of my pants and blushed. “Ego.” “I will.” I let her hand go. “Best of luck to you, Heather.” Still blushing, she glanced at my pants one last time before walking out of my office. The second the doors shut behind her, I picked up my phone and called my personal assistant and secretary, Linda. “Yes, Mr. Dalton?” she answered. “What do you need?” “I need you to get me a new publicist. Heather just quit.” “How shocking...”

“What did you just say?” “Nothing at all!” She changed her tone. “I’ll go through your requirements and get you someone new right away.”

Four months later...

Subject: A “Pleasure” + My Resignation Dear Mr. Dalton, I would love to say that it’s been a “pleasure” working for you, but that would be a lie. You are without a doubt, the worst client I’ve ever had. I honestly find it quite sad that women in this city flock to you like flies and act as if you’re some type of God. (You’re not.) And after your most recent scandal (that I unfortunately cannot deal with at all) I highly doubt any publicist in this city will want to work with you. I quit. Violet Sanders Embassy PR

Two months later...

Subject: A Notice & Your Most Recent Interview Dear Mr. Dalton, We appreciate the “experience” we’ve had during our past few months of working with you, but to be quite blunt: We can’t take this shit anymore. The live Today Show interview you did Saturday morning was the last straw. (Do you have any idea how long it will take the American viewing public to forget you saying that “fucking” is your favorite hobby? Hint: FOREVER.) We are done. Veronica & Michael Welch PR

Six months later...

Subject: I QUIT. THAT. IS. ALL. Eva Daniels Avenue PR

I debated whether I should respond to the latest publicist’s email, but I was slightly pre-occupied by

the sight of my brother Leo frantically pacing around my office like a lunatic. It was moments like this that made me wonder how the hell we were related, how the hell he ever became my “calm and collected” CFO. “I can’t believe this, Ryan.” He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Another publicist quit on you? This time within her first two weeks? Do you have any idea how this is going to look to the board when they find out?” I didn’t answer. He always tended to ask four or five questions in a row before giving me a chance to answer one of them. “You are the CEO of a billion-dollar real estate corporation.” He said the words as if he couldn’t believe them himself. “You are a billionaire.” “That was more than implied by your first sentence...” “I just don’t understand you sometimes.” He looked at me like I was deranged. “You have the world at your fingertips, but you’d rather risk it on stupid shit that brings you negative attention. I’m honestly starting to wonder if you care anymore. Like, do you wake up first thing in the morning and think to yourself, how can I possibly make my public image even worse today?” “I’m usually thinking about pussy first thing in the morning. I don’t typically have any other thoughts when I wake up.”

He stopped pacing and glared at me. “You’ve been through thirteen publicists this year alone and thirty-six total over the past four years. Do you have any idea what that means?” “This city clearly needs better publicists.” “It means that once again, we have to delay our global initiative efforts and our stock options because there is no way in hell Wall Street will have anything to do with our brilliant yet battled CEO. It also means...” I stopped listening. My brother overreacted to everything and our views on the company couldn’t have been more different. True, over the past few years my public persona had taken on a life of its own, but the press made it ten times worse than the reality. Yes, I once partied like there was no tomorrow. Yes, I once fucked a different woman every week—almost every day for a couple years. And yes, I tended to say whatever came to my mind during press interviews, but after the two decades of nonstop work and sweat equity I’d put into making this company what it was today, I more than deserved it. And as of seven months ago, I actually hadn’t had sex or partied once since The New York Times decided to run a different version of that “explosive” sexting article. (That, and the board made me sign a seventh-month agreement that

promised no public social outings while my image recovered.) “I can’t get a single PR firm past the word ‘Hello’ when I tell them I’m calling about representation for you.” Leo was still talking. “Now, I’ve done my best with the board in practically begging them not to ask that you resign from your own company, but I don’t know if I can do much more.” “What?” I was paying full attention now. “What did you say about me resigning?” “Look.” He sighed. “You’re one scandal away from them asking you to step down as CEO. You’d still have your stock options, they’d send out an amicable press release to make it seem like it was your idea, and the company will still technically be yours, but...” “But what?” “But this is getting very tiring. You’ve become quite impossible to deal with and I say that as your brother, with much respect for all you’ve done for me and the company.” “The company I started.” “The same company you need to be held accountable for.” He walked over to my desk and set down a sheet of paper. “I’ve managed to get them all to agree to hold off on pushing you to resign, unless you commit something else egregious

—a la saying you enjoy ‘fucking’ on live television.” “I was answering the question honestly.” “Of course, you were.” He rolled his eyes. “This is a list of the remaining, reputable PR firms in this city. Do me a favor and call around to see if one is willing to take you on. If you can, lie about who you are and only use your initials and an LLC.” “Any particular reason why Linda can’t do this for me?” “Not at all.” He tapped his chin. “Well, unless we account for the fact that she’s currently dealing with tying up the loose ends from the last publicist who just quit you minutes ago, and you can’t afford to lose her right now.” He walked toward the door and then looked over his shoulder. “Oh, and one last thing. Because I know you and I know how you think—” “You don’t know how I think at all.” “I noticed that you had today’s date highlighted on your digital calendar,” he said. “I couldn’t help but realize that it correlates to the last day in your seven-month ‘no-partying’ agreement with the board.” “It also correlates with my birthday.” “Your birthday was yesterday,” he said, his voice firm. “They’re going to redraft that agreement and ask you to re-sign it Monday. If you

do choose to go out this weekend and break your self-imposed no-sex rule, I highly suggest that you don’t make the most of it.” “I won’t.” I will...

THE PUBLICIST PENELOPE I stepped out of a town car at Broadway and Fifth Avenue, juggling my umbrella and coffee in one hand and my clients’ files in the other. Today marked the eighth day in a row that heavy rains had fallen over this city, and I was beginning to regret not renting an office space closer to my apartment. “Good morning, Miss Lauren.” The concierge greeted me as he pulled the door open. “Good to see that you’re two hours early as always.” “Good morning to you as well, Oliver,” I said, smiling. “You know I’m allergic to being late.” I walked inside and hit the button for the elevator, taking it straight up to the seventh floor. The second I stepped off, I stared in awe at the shiny, silver plated lettering that hung high above my double doors: Penelope Lauren & Associates. My firm was one of the smallest public relations companies in Manhattan, and our clients were mostly mid-level athletes, local celebrities and

colleges, and a few Wall Street assholes who were incapable of keeping their cocks in their pants. Every now and then, we’d land a huge account but they’d eventually be lured away by the brighter lights of a larger firm. A firm with more staff, bigger resources, and other big name clients that I could only dream about landing. Still, with only six years under my belt, I was proud of how much me and my team of five had accomplished thus far. I unlocked the door to my office and started my morning ritual: Listen to thirty minutes of an audiobook, respond to all the important emails, and vow to give two hundred percent effort for the rest of the day. I read through my current clients’ files— making sure I was on schedule for everything they needed, and by the time I finished, my secretary Tina was setting a fresh cup of coffee on my desk. “Good morning, Miss Lauren,” she said. “I’ve got your daily updates.” “Great.” I looked up and motioned for her to take a seat. “I’m listening.” “Mr. Bradley of V-tech wants us to write his speech for that ribbon cutting ceremony next week. He wants it to be ‘beautiful, poignant, and humorous, all at once.’ And, in addition to requesting our help with press interviews, he also wants us to get him a beautiful redhead for a date. He’ll settle for a brunette, but no blondes.”

“Have Jenna get me a first draft of the speech by tomorrow and have Bob arrange four interviews with the local stations. Then kindly tell Mr. Bradley that we are not a match making service. He can find his own date.” “Got it” She scribbled in her notepad. “Onto a quick client update: New York University wants to extend their account with us for another six months. Hilton wants a phone call at the end of the month to discuss local rebranding and um, Taylor Carew...” She mumbled the rest of her sentence. “Could you repeat the last thing you said?” I asked. “I didn’t quite catch that.” “Taylor Carew is ending his account with us effective immediately. He sent us a ‘Best of luck’ fruit basket, and he’s officially leaving us for— Well, you know.” “Drew & Associates?” She nodded and my blood began to boil. Drew & Associates was run by the one and only Sebastian Drew. He was one of the biggest “trustfund entrepreneurs” and assholes in this city. He was also, unfortunately, my ex-boyfriend. I picked up my phone and dialed his number, demanding his secretary put me straight through to him. “He’ll be with you in two minutes, Miss Lauren.” She at least had the decency to sound sympathetic each time I called. It almost made me

forget that she’d betrayed me by leaving my firm to join his. Almost... “Were those all the updates for today, Tina?” I placed my hand over the receiver. “Actually, no.” She stood up and handed me a pink post-it. “We’ve been getting random calls all week from a guy who claims he needs representation, but he won’t give us any information about himself.” I raised my eyebrow. “What do you mean?” “He called and said, I need a publicist. I highly suggest you accommodate me. I told him I’d call him back, but I couldn’t because he wouldn’t give me his phone number. So, he called again a couple days later and before I could say a word, he said, I’m doing your small firm a favor by even considering you for this. You need to accommodate me.” She rolled her eyes. “At first, I thought it was Mr. Drew playing a prank on us since the guy continuously refused to fill out our pre-screening questionnaire, so I told him we charged two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a month per client.” “Let me guess. That was when he finally came out and admitted he was hired by Drew to harass us?” “No...” She pointed to her pink post-it. “He paid it. For a whole year.”

“What?” I gasped as I read over her scrawled note. Anonymous, unsigned client deposited three million dollars into our account this morning... I didn’t get a chance to completely process my thoughts before Drew’s familiar voice came over the line. “Good morning, Penelope!” he said. “How may I help you on this lovely day?” “For starters, you can stop poaching my goddamn clients.” “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa! Such colorful language.” He laughed. “It’s a bit too early for that, don’t you think?” There was a smile in his voice and I wished I could reach through the line to swipe it right off his face. “You don’t need any more clients and you certainly don’t need mine, Drew,” I said. “You’re only doing this to get back at me.” “That’s not true at all. I’m hurt that you would even think that about me.” “Then stop doing this.” I tried to keep my voice firm, to keep my true emotions from showing. “Stop going out of your way to lure my clients to your company six months after they’ve already signed with me.” “I really think you need to rethink your baseless accusations, sweetheart.” “I’m not your sweetheart anymore.”

“Oh, that’s right. You rejected me in front of three hundred people at our engagement party.” “Because you cheated on me.” I still couldn’t believe he wasn’t over this. That he refused to own up to the true reason behind our break-up from years ago. “You. Cheated. On. Me.” “I cheated one time, Penelope. One time.” I gritted my teeth and grabbed a stress ball from my drawer. There was no point in going down this road of conversation with him right now. It never ended well for either of us. “Now, perhaps you don’t remember the promises we made to each other at one point in time,” he said. “But, I do. We were supposed to be Drew & Lauren Associates and we were going to run this city together.” “Those promises were made null and void the moment you let your college intern wrap her mouth around your cock.” I shook my head at the memory. “And for the record, you were caught once. You slept with her far more than one time.” “This is a classic case of ‘he said, she said.’ As a fellow publicist, you know the true details are clearly fuzzy after all this time.” He let out a light laugh and I almost screamed. “Nonetheless, I’m not doing this to get back at you. I’m doing this so you can finally put your pride to the side and join me. And maybe, just maybe, when you come to your senses, perhaps you can forgive me and we can

pick up right where we left off. We can be Drew and Lauren Associates forever. What do you say?” I hung up. There was no way in hell I’d go back to him, let alone join his firm. I opened my inbox, ready to get to the bottom of the random, three-million-dollar deposit, and noticed there were two new emails from my best friend, Sean.

Subject: Please Get Rid of Your Goddamn Roommate... I’ve asked this before, but I’ll ask it again: Why can’t you just put Sarah out? Surely you can find someone else in this city who can afford to split your overpriced rent. Someone who doesn’t insist on imposing her ridiculous germaphobe issues on me each time I come over, and someone who isn’t currently accusing me of leaving “micro crumbs” on your kitchen counter. Thanks in advance. Sean

Subject: Seventy Sad Months and Counting... This is your monthly reminder that you haven’t slept with anyone since Drew, and that’s why

you’re stressed out and obsessed with your work all the time. If you weren’t like a sister to me, I’d sleep with you myself, but for the umpteenth time: You need to get laid. BADLY. Please do it this month so I won’t have to email you about this next month. (It’s getting really sad.) I can suggest some clubs and pay my sister to help you dress if you like... Sean PS—I’m not kidding about your roommate. GET. RID. OF. HER. NOW.

I laughed and minimized his email, opening the firm’s bank ledger in a new tab instead. The three million dollars was confirmed, and the bank was requesting an immediate meeting to file tax paperwork. The name on the deposit was simply, “R.D. LLC” and a myriad of companies with those initials popped up on my screen when I hit search. There was no actual “RD LLC” by itself and no business in this city was currently operating under that name. I called Tina’s desk. “Yes, Miss Lauren?” she answered on the first ring

“Tina, has this mystery client ever sent us an email that we can possibly track?” “No, he’s only called and the number he calls from goes straight to a hotel,” she said. “I’ve checked. He usually calls us at noon every day, though.” I glanced at the clock. It was only ten. “What exactly did he say the last time he called?” “Um, well, after I told him about our fake fee, he said he’d call for a meeting with the director Monday. Are we really going to charge him two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a month?” “Depends on who he really is and all he might require from us,” I said. “If he’s that high profile, we might have to hire more staff and get more resources to get things done, you know? Let me know when he calls again.” “Will do.” I hung up and tried to think of who the hell in this city could afford to drop three million without much thought. Anyone who would bother going to a small firm instead of one of the big three: Embassy, Welch, or Avenue. Or hell, even Drew’s firm... As I was scrolling through another page of RD LLC listings, a new email from Drew appeared on my screen.

Subject: Maybe you’re right... I’m going to poach every client of yours until you come to your damn senses, Penelope. You know you can’t run a firm on your own for too much longer, especially without me. I’ll be here whenever you’re no longer solvent, whenever you realize that your clients will always go with me over you. (But they can get both of us whenever you’re ready.) Forgive me and join me before I change my mind, sweetheart, Drew. PS—Reply to me. You know you want to :-)

Ugh! I deleted his email and pulled up Sean’s last message for a reply instead.

Subject: Re: Seventy Sad Months and Counting... I’ll end my streak this weekend. You and your sister will really help me? —Penelope

Subject: Re: Re: Seventy Sad Months and Counting... Absolutely

THE CLIENT RYAN I stared outside the window of a town car Sunday night, hoping tonight would end better than the night before. I could still hear my brother’s laughter ringing in my ears and I needed more than a few drinks to silence it. Last night, when I was mid-Jameson and contemplating which woman at the bar I was going to approach, he’d sent me a panicked text message: PLEASE HELP ME, RYAN! GET TO MY CONDO NOW! EMERGENCY! PLEASE! I wasted no time rushing to get to his place— even calling security when I was en-route, but the second I arrived, I realized what was really happening. It turned out the “emergency” was me, and Leo was just ensuring that I didn’t spent my evening “in a club getting in trouble.” Instead, he preferred that I hang out with him and his wife while they

watched awful movies on Netflix and burned endless bags of popcorn. I’m not falling for that shit tonight... “You said Club H2O correct, sir?” My driver interrupted my thoughts. “Yes, Miller.” “Well, we’re here.” He pulled the car to the curb. “What time would you like me to return?” “I’ll let you know,” I said, opening the door. “Wait, one thing.” I caught his eyes through the rearview mirror. “I know it’s been several months since I partied like used to, but did you honestly ever think I was out of control?” He laughed. “I think I know better than to give you a true answer to that.” You just did... “Thank you, Miller.” I stepped out of the car and headed to the club’s entrance, skipping everyone in line. “We weren’t expecting you tonight, Mr. Dalton.” The security guard pulled back the velvet rope. “Would you like to speak to the manager?” “Not at all. I won’t be here too long.” I walked inside and headed to the bar, finding myself face to face with the manager anyway. “Mr. Dalton?” She blushed as she extended her hand. “I would’ve had your VIP booth ready for you if I knew you were coming. We don’t usually offer those on Sunday nights, but I can make an

exception if you like. I can have someone clear it out right away.” I started to tell her not to worry about it, that I was only going to drink two drinks at the bar and go home, but I glanced at my usual spot and saw a sexy ass woman in a bright blue dress. A woman who was making every man around her stop and stare. She was hands down, the most stunning woman I’d ever seen, and I was shocked I’d never met her before. Looking out at the dance floor with her emerald green eyes, her auburn colored hair was pulled low in a ponytail, and she was biting her bottom lip as she nodded to the music. When the DJ changed the song, she stood up and motioned for a waitress. The longer she stood there waving her hand, the longer I stared at the way her tight dress perfectly grabbed her hips. The way her ruby red lips complemented her beautiful eyes. “I can have her removed from your booth, Mr. Dalton,” the manager said. “Just say the word and I’ll have security remove her ASAP.” “I’ll move her myself,” I said, watching her sit down again. “Can I have a Jameson first, please?”

THE PUBLICIST PENELOPE I was going to kill Sean if he didn’t get to this club soon. After taking me out to buy a thin, backless blue dress this afternoon and watching his sister perfect my make-up for over three hours, he’d promised that he wouldn’t leave me hanging for my first attempt at a one night stand. Where the hell is he? I sat through two more songs before finally pulling out my phone and calling him. “Hey there!” he answered. “Where the hell are you?” “Me? Where the hell are you? I’ve been here for two hours.” “Two hours?” He was yelling over the music. “Where are you sitting?” “On the couch in the reserved section.” I stood up so he could see me. “One of the waitresses let me sit in VIP when I told her my heels were killing my feet. How lucky am I?”

“Very lucky, since Club Water doesn’t have a VIP section...Seriously, Pen. Where are you?” “Club Water?” I shook my head. “Sean, you said Club H2O. It’s in every single text message you sent me, and all day today you kept saying Club H2O.” “Ohhh, damn...” He laughed hysterically. “Sorry about that.” “You don’t sound too sorry.” “I’m really not.” He laughed again. “You want me to come there or do you want to come here? Sundays at H2O are pretty hit and miss.” “I’m just going to go home after the next few songs,” I said. “I promise I’ll try this again next weekend, but it’s already one o’clock and my feet are practically dead anyway. Please don’t hate me.” “I would never.” He sighed. “I’m going to hold you to that promise next weekend, though. Text me when you make it home.” “Will do.” I ended the call and requested another glass of wine. If Sean was right about this place being “hit or miss,” tonight was definitely the latter. Even though quite a few men approached me on the dance floor earlier, every single one of them reeked of desperation. That, or they gave off the questionable vibes of a potential serial killer. “Nice section you have here in VIP, Miss.” A grey-haired man who looked old enough to be my

dad sat down next to me. “Mind if I take a breather with you?” “Not at all.” I smiled at him. “Are you here alone?” he asked. “I am,” I said, figuring he was simply waiting for his partner. “Where’s your date?” “I don’t have a date.” He licked his lips. “Until now, that is. Tonight must be fate for the two of us. How lucky are we, huh?” “I’m sorry, what?” “Fate.” He smiled. “I don’t want to be alone tonight, and you don’t look like you want to be alone either.” My brain couldn’t process my thoughts fast enough for me to respond. He scooted even closer to me and lowered his voice. “I saw you on the dance floor earlier,” he said. “I was keeping my eyes on you because you’re a really good dancer. And the way you moved those hips, I think I would like to watch you forever.” Get the hell up and run, Penelope. Get the hell up and run right now... I ignored my brain, selfishly thinking of how badly my feet were still hurting. I looked away from the man and stared at the people who were still on the dance floor, hoping he would get the hint. He didn’t. He touched my bare shoulder, forcing me to look at him again.

“So, why is someone like you alone?” he asked. “You’re way too beautiful for that.” “Oh, wait. Did I say I was alone?” I shook my head. “I must have thought you asked me something else. I’m not alone at all. I’m here with someone.” “No, no, no.” He moved even closer, looking as if he could see right through my lie. “You definitely said you were alone. I’m harmless, I swear. I’m here for the exact same reason you are.” “What reason is that?” “Sex with someone who can handle me, of course.” He licked his lips in the most disturbing way I’d ever seen, letting a string of saliva drip onto his chin in the process. Then he picked up my heels and set them in the small space between us. “I can play your little game if you want, though. If you’re not here alone, who are you here with?” I glanced around the room, looking for someone —anyone, that would help get this man the hell away from me. I spotted a man staring at me from the bar, but before I could motion for him to walk over, a man sat down on the other side of me. He was scrolling through his phone—looking completely oblivious to the club scene, so I turned around to face him. “Oh, there you are!” I said loudly. “I didn’t even see you sit down!” I pulled his head close to mine and kissed him, damn near gasping when he

began kissing me back. When he forcefully commanded my tongue with his and bit my bottom lip before slowly pulling away. Catching my breath, I felt my eyes widening when his striking blue eyes settled on mine. When I realized that he was sexier than any man I’d ever met in my life. I could literally stare at you all day... “Ugh. Okay, you’ve made your point.” The older man groaned and stood up to leave, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the stranger I’d just kissed. “Is this normally how you greet men you don’t know?” he asked, a slight smirk on his lips. “Just so you’re aware, the word ‘hello’ is more than enough.” “Um...” I was absolutely speechless. His eyes were gleaming beneath the bright lights and he had dimples in both of his cheeks. The custom fit of the navy blue suit he was wearing made it perfectly clear that there were perfectly toned muscles beneath it, and the cut of the diamonds in his designer watch let me know that he had to be from Wall Street. “I was just trying to get another guy to leave me alone,” I said, finally finding my voice. “He didn’t seem like the type I wanted.” “How unfortunate.” He gazed at my lips. “What type do you want?”

I hesitated before answering, watching him set a shiny placard on the VIP table. “My usual type,” I said finally. “Your usual?” He raised his eyebrow and that sexy smirk returned to his lips. “What does that mean?” I tried to remember what Sean and his sister said about striking up conversations with sexy strangers. Something about not coming off shy, something else about seeming confident and experienced. Think of something an experienced person would say... “I’m saying that I do this often enough to know exactly what I like in a guy that I’d want to um...A guy I’d want to—” “Fuck?” “Yes...” I could already tell that this man was beyond cocky. That he knew just how damn attractive he was and he knew how to use his sexiness to get exactly what he wanted. “I see.” He let out a low laugh and brought his glass to his lips. He took a sip and signaled for the waitress. “How may I help you?” A woman in a black dress walked over immediately. “Since my new friend here took over my usual, private VIP couch for longer than she was supposed

to, can you bring over a bottle of whatever she’s having?” I wasn’t supposed to sit here that long? My cheeks flushed pink. “I can do that,” the waitress said, eyeing me with disdain. “What were you drinking, Miss?” “It was just Moscato,” I said softly. “I’m a lightweight.” I heard the stranger letting out another low laugh as she walked away and I turned to face him. “I’m so glad I could be your entertainment tonight.” “As am I,” he said, his eyes locking on mine. “I’m Ryan.” “Rachel.” I quickly gave him my “one night” name per Sean’s instructions. “Okay, Rachel,” he said my name as if he knew I was lying. “You never answered my question.” “Which one?” “The one about what type of guy you want.” “You don’t need to know. I’ll know him when I see him.” “Tell me.” He insisted, moving a bit closer to me as the waitress set down a fresh bottle. I froze, completely unsure of what to say. “Is your ideal type a guy who’ll take you home and fuck you until you can’t take every inch of his cock anymore?” he whispered into my ear. “The type who will devour your pussy until you come against his mouth?”

I felt my cheeks heating. “You did not just ask me that...” “I did,” he said. “You started our meeting by skipping the ‘Hello’ so I think we can skip right past the bullshit question and answer phase.” His eyes were still on mine. “Tell me what you want.” Everything you just said... “A gentleman,” I said, lying to both him and myself. “Someone who will make love to me and slowly take off my usual lingerie while he kisses every inch of my skin. Someone who will say sweet things before and while he’s having sex with me.” “If you were after that,” he said, trailing his fingers against my lips. “You would’ve actually worn lingerie—or something, under your dress.” He glanced down at the top of my dress, at my nipples as they hardened through the fabric. “So, clearly that’s not what you’re after tonight. And even if it was, you would’ve gotten up the second I started talking to you.” “You’re saying you’re not a gentleman?” “I’m saying I’m not going to bullshit you.” He poured me a glass of wine. “And I’d appreciate it if you did the same.” I stared at him as he stared back at me, as everything in my body begged me to end my long drought of sexless nights and sleep with him. He handed me the wine and he watched me as I took my time sipping it, as I let four songs play

before I finally made up my mind. “I have some conditions before I can ask you to leave with me,” I said. “I’m listening.” “One, you can’t stay the night.” “I never do.” “Two, you can’t have my phone number.” “I don’t recall asking for it.” “Three, you’ll have to let me lean against you when we leave.” He looked confused and I picked up my shoes. “I’m not going to be able to get all the way home in these heels without leaning against someone.” “Understandable,” he said, smiling. “This is when you’re supposed to tell me that you want me to leave with you.” “It was implied.” I blushed. He smiled and pulled out his phone. “How close is your place?” “Close enough for us to walk. It’s in SoHo.” “I think you need to re-learn the definition of pretty close.” He looked at me like I was insane. “SoHo is a half-hour walk away, at best.” “No, it’s only twenty minutes.” I wasn’t sure why his brand of arrogance was such a turn-on. “Are you saying you won’t walk home with me?” “Absolutely.” He held his phone up to his ear. “Miller, would you come to Club H2O and pick up

me and—” He paused, smiling. “my new friend, Rachel. I need you to take us to her place in SoHo.” He spoke a few more words into his phone before ending the call and looking at me. “He’ll be here in two minutes.” He leaned over me and grabbed my heels. I held out my hand so he could give them to me, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept them and slid his hands underneath my thighs and lifted me up, tossing me over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” I asked, beyond wet and turned on for some reason. “Exactly what you asked.” He carried me out of the VIP section, past the dance floor, and out of the club. Outside, he carried me to a waiting black town car and placed me onto the backseat. He sat next to me and shut the door behind him. “What’s your exact address, Miss Rachel?” The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror, and it took me a few seconds to realize that by saying “Rachel” he was referring to me. “2000 Lafayette,” I said. “Got it.” He rolled up the partition and pulled into the traffic. I felt Ryan staring at me and looked over at him. “I take it that you do this type of thing often?”

“Not as often as you,” he said. “At least, not recently.” “Well, maybe when you reach my level of expertise, you’ll realize why it’s rude to just pick up someone and carry them out of the club without warning.” “I personally think you enjoyed that.” “No.” I smiled. “I definitely didn’t.” Before I could say anything else, his dominating mouth was on mine and he was pushing me down against the leather seat. I shut my eyes as he kissed me harder than I’d ever been kissed before, as he slid his hands against my bare thighs. It had been so long since I’d been touched, that I was reveling in every brush of his skin against mine. And with each commanding roll of his tongue against my lips, I wondered why a kiss never felt this intense with any of the boyfriends I’d had in the past. Why nothing they did even halfway compared to what this man was doing to me right now. Palming my breasts through my dress, he groaned as I gently bit his bottom lip and playfully tugged at his belt. The car continued to cruise against the bumpy streets of Manhattan and every now and then I felt his hardened cock through his pants, rubbing against my thighs. My eyes fluttered open each

time because I just knew his cock couldn’t be that huge. This has to be my imagination messing with me.... When I noticed that the car had finally come to a stop, his lips were still attached to mine, and my hands were in his hair. I was murmuring as he continued to tease my thighs with his touches, and I was on the verge of insisting that we finish this on the backseat. It wasn’t until a series of car honks that he eventually tore away from me and helped me to sit up. Adjusting my dress, he stepped out and held the door for me, once again carrying my shoes. I walked the few steps to the front door of my brownstone, fumbling for the keys. I managed to open the door in record time, and the second I stepped inside the apartment he pushed me against the wall and we picked up right where we left off seconds ago. He lifted my leg around his waist and continued controlling my mouth with his, not missing a single beat. “Where do you want me to fuck you?” he whispered against my mouth. “My bedroom.” He unzipped the side of my dress and it fell to the floor in a pool of red silk. He kissed his way

down to my neck, to my chest—sucking one of my nipples between his lips. Moaning, I attempted to tell him where my bedroom was, but he returned to my mouth, rendering me completely useless with his kisses all over again. He slid his hand between my thighs and pressed his thumb against my swollen clit, rubbing it in slow torturous circles. “Ah...” I cried out. “Ah...Wait.” “For what?” I bit my shoulder to prevent myself from crying out even louder, and he kept his rhythm, using his hips to pin me against the wall. To prevent me from moving away. My breathing slowed and my pussy began to throb against his hand as he slid two thick fingers deep inside of me. Just as I was getting close to the edge, he moved his hand and whispered into my ear, “Are you sure you’ve done this before?” I nodded, incapable of doing much else. “Hmmm.” He pulled me over to the couch. “I think I need to do something before we go to your bedroom.” “Something?” I asked as he pushed me back onto the cushions. “Something like what?” “Like fuck your pussy with my tongue until you come in my mouth.” He spread my legs and got

down on his knees. “That is what you said you wanted, correct?” I didn’t get a chance to answer him. He buried his head between my legs and sucked my clit between his lips, making me scream out in pleasure. I grabbed his hair, to try to get him to slow down, but it was no use. He held my legs down and took his time devouring my pussy with his mouth. I shut my eyes as I surrendered complete control, as I realized that I was going to let this man do whatever he wanted to do to me for the rest of the night...

THE PUBLICIST PENELOPE The next morning...

I rolled over in bed, groaning as every single muscle in my body ached in pleasurable pain. My legs felt as if they were too weak to stand on, as if they had yet to recover from Ryan fucking me against my dresser, my wall, and the edge of my mattress. My lips were sensitive and sore from the way he’d bit them—when he made me beg him to fuck me harder. And my nipples were numb from the way he’d sucked them while I rode his cock during our final round. I wasn’t sure when he’d left or when he’d dressed me in a T-shirt and tucked me into my bed, but a part of me was wishing I’d broken my second rule and given him my phone number so we could do that all over again.

Unable to sit up, I dozed off to memories of him fucking me—smiling each time he buried his head between my legs and teased me with his mouth. After replaying our wall sex for the fifth time, I rolled over to the other side of my bed and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. I was still confused about the client who was coming in at four o’clock and I was hoping someone on my team would have some answers so we would be somewhat prepared whenever he came in. I should definitely pick up some breakfast before going in today... I unlocked my phone’s screen and saw that my inbox was full of similar subject lines: “Where are you?” “Are you okay?” “What’s going on?” “The concierge is going to call the police if you don’t let us know where you are by three...” Confused, I opened the first message and started to type back. Then I noticed the time. It’s one o’clock? “What the fuck!” I stumbled out of bed and damn near fell to the floor. There was no way it was one in the afternoon. The sky outside my window was still dark, the usual ‘it’s five o’clock and I’m super early for work’ dark. I pulled the curtains open and noticed the ominous clouds in the sky above. Traffic was at a mid-day standstill and the rain was falling over the city in sheets.

Shit. Shit. Shit... I sent Tina a quick “I’m on my way. Bad morning. Sorry,” text message. Then I texted our town car driver and told him I’d need a ride to work in thirty minutes. Tossing off my T-shirt, I wrapped myself in a towel and headed to the bathroom. I tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Sarah?” I knocked. “Sarah, are you in there?” “I’m actually right here.” She stepped in front of the door, swinging a key. “You had a new lock installed on our bathroom?” I really needed to replace her with another roommate. Fast. “Yes, I did have a new key made for our bathroom. This is our bathroom, isn’t it?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Just me and you.” “What are you trying to say?” I crossed my arms. “Actually, can you hold that thought and just unlock the door, please? Surely we can discuss whatever the issue is after I get off work later today.” “Nope.” She continued swinging the key. “Your guy friend doesn’t need to use our bathroom when he comes over anymore. That goes for your other friends and work buddies as well. We just completed a new study in my lab about the danger of visitor germs.” You have got to be kidding me right now...

“Who knows what type of mutated germs they carry, you know? They all travel somewhere new every month and I never hear them talk about fully cleaning their possessions upon their return. I mean, I’m not paying twenty-five hundred a month to deal with your guests’ germs. Also, speaking of your guests, I couldn’t help but notice that you brought someone home with you last night.” I tried my best to keep a straight face, to look like I was taking her foolishness seriously. “My music was on its highest volume, but I still overheard you having sexual relations in our living room,” she said. “You had them on the couch, the wall, and the carpet, so I’ve called a deep cleaning service to come here this evening. I expect to be fully repaid by the end of the week for the four hundred dollars this will cost, and from the way things sounded with that guy last night, I hope you plan on getting your mattress steamed. Do you?” I didn’t answer her. I snatched the key from her hand and unlocked the bathroom door, quickly shutting myself inside. I heard her continuing her pointless speech through the door, so I stepped into the shower and turned up the water pressure as high as it could go. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my nerves as I washed my hair. All hope is not lost, Penelope...The new client meeting isn’t until four and you can definitely get

to work by two to prepare... I stepped out of the shower minutes later and headed into the laundry room to get my lucky “signing day” suit. I’d never failed to secure a deal while wearing it, and I always kept it dry cleaned and tucked away for special days like today. Hitting the lights, I expected to see it hanging high on the clothing rack as usual, but it wasn’t there. It couldn’t have been there because in its place was a similar suit that bore discolored, ugly blotches of white and pink. A suit that looked as if it’d lost a long and hard battle with a bottle of bleach. “Sarah!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “Sarah!” “Yeah?” She called back. “What?” “What the hell happened to my grey suit?” “I don’t really know,” she said. “I saw it a few hours ago and realized I must have accidentally bleached it. Sorry.” I shut the door and headed toward her voice, straight to the kitchen. I silently counted backwards from ten before speaking to prevent myself from completely losing it. “Sarah, that was my lucky suit and I only wear it on signing days,” I said. “Today is a signing day.” “Oh. Well, that sounds somewhat exciting,” she said dryly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I need you to kindly tell me how you accidentally bleached a ‘dry-clean’ only suit.” My blood was boiling. “It’s always in a plastic bag, and there is always—always, a bright red ‘DRY CLEAN ONLY’ tag hanging from it.” “I guess I don’t really know.” She shrugged, smiling. “How do you bring someone home and accidentally forget to clean up when you know damn well that your roommate is a germaphobe?” I resisted the instant urge to lean over the counter and strangle her, but only because I didn’t have any more time to waste. I can totally do it later... I rushed to my room and flipped through the other suits in my closet, settling on a black dress and blazer combination. Searching for my lint brush, I pulled my dresser drawer open and noticed there was a folded paper tucked into the side of my mirror. This definitely wasn’t here yesterday... Confused, I opened it and saw a handwritten note in bright, blue cursive:

Rachel, I think you were lying to me about being “experienced” last night. You orgasmed three times, and that was before we ever made it to your bedroom. I also find it hard to believe you “usually

wear silk or lingerie.” Your drawers are full of cotton, granny panties. —The best man you’ve ever fucked (Thank you for that compliment afterward, even though I already knew that...) PS—For the record, your pussy is quite phenomenal.

UGH!

I rolled my eyes and tucked his smart-ass note at the bottom of my drawer, realizing he was right about my nonexistent panty collection. I slipped into my dress and heels, and pulled my hair into a low ponytail. I put on a light layer of concealer and lip gloss, then I grabbed my briefcase and umbrella. Leaving the condo, I walked halfway down the block to my favorite coffee shop. It was the one place that never failed to instantly turn my dreariest days into my best days with its custom caramel drizzle latte. I pulled on the door handle, but it didn’t give way. I pulled it even harder and peered inside to see that the café was empty, but the lights were on. Since when do they close early on Mondays? I walked to the other entry door and spotted a

pink sign in the window.

This establishment has committed HEALTH CODE VIOLATION 785-12. CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

“Didn’t you hear?” A woman pushed her stroller next to me. “It’s pretty disgusting how badly they failed the inspection.” “No...” I sighed. “I don’t even want to know what happened.” “They had a cockroach infestation. It was so bad that they were grinding some of the dead roaches into the coffee beans.” She smiled and held out her phone. “There’s a pretty funny YouTube video about it. See?” I immediately walked away from her and headed toward my place. This day can’t possibly get any worse... I waved down the approaching company town car and slipped into the back seat. The driver gave me a sympathetic look, but he didn’t say anything. He simply let his soft music play over the speakers. Scrolling through my inbox, I answered what emails I could and called Tina. “Yes, Miss Lauren?” she answered.

“Can you give me the daily updates? I’ll be there soon, but I’m in mid-day traffic.” “Sure thing.” Papers shuffled in the background. “Well, I have good news and bad news.” “Go with the bad news first so we can get it out of the way.” “We lost two clients, Michael Pilot and Liam Johnson, to Drew and Associates as of this morning.” “Of course, we did.” I shook my head, debating whether I should ask the driver to turn around and take me back home so I could sleep the rest of this terrible day away instead. “But there’s good news!” She exclaimed. “I found a few viable references for our mystery RD LLC client.” “Okay, great. Who are they?” “The Welch Group, Embassy PR, and Avenue & Associates.” “He’s been with all of them already?” I scrolled through my list of contacts. “When was this?” “He didn’t say, and I figured you would want to be the one who called to ask questions.” “Got it,” I said. “Thank you, Tina.” “You’re welcome. See you soon.” I ended the call and tried to think about who this guy could possibly be if he’d already dealt with three of the biggest firms in this city. I was hoping

he was a high-profile athlete who was trying to turn his career around, or maybe one of the many newly displaced Los Angeles celebrities who were attempting to start fresh in New York. Smiling at the possibilities, I dialed my contact at The Welch Group first. “Veronica of The Welch Group speaking,” she answered on the first ring. “Who is this?” “Penelope of Lauren & Associates,” I said. “I hope I’m not reaching you at a bad time.” “Not at all, Penelope. What do you need?” “I have a question about a potential client who listed you as reference. He listed himself as RD LLC, so I was wondering if—” She hung up in my face. Seconds later, she sent me a text message.

VERONICA: I have absolutely nothing to say about that client. EVER.

“Okay, then...” I scrolled down and called my contact at Avenue PR. “Eva of Avenue PR,” she answered. “Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with today?” “Hey, Eva. It’s me, Penelope at Lauren & Associates. I’m calling to see if you can give me any information about a former client of yours.”

“Sure. Which one?” “He hasn’t given his name yet, but he came to us under RD LLC.” Silence. “Hello?” I asked. “Hello? Eva, are you there?” “Yeah, I’m here.” “Well, um...Can you tell me anything at all about this client?” “I can tell you that he would have to pay me a million dollars a week to work with him again. I can also tell you that if you’re smart, you’ll reject him the second he brings his special brand of assholery through your doors.” I sighed. “Anything more concrete than that, maybe?” “You’ll see.” She hung up and I didn’t bother calling the other reference. By the time I arrived to the office, it was two thirty and my staff had already set out the snack trays and flower bouquets for our trademark client introduction meeting. I unwrapped a fresh pack of fountain pens and placed them at the center of the conference table. “Did anyone have any luck finding out anything about our incoming client today?” I stepped into our break room. “Anything at all?” The majority of the team shook their heads, but Bob raised his hand.

“I did,” he said pulling a mini notepad from his back pocket. “This detail is from Heather at Ransom & Company. And I quote, He’s sexy as hell and I wish I would’ve fucked him before we parted ways. But I would never work with him again.” He closed his notepad. “Oh, and apparently he has a ‘huge cock’ that she used to stare at from time to time during their strategy meetings.” “Thank you so much, Bob.” I rolled my eyes. “That really, really helps.” “You’re welcome.” He laughed. “Do we honestly care what this guy does, though? He gave us three million dollars in advance, and last time I checked that’s enough to keep us afloat for a while, especially since Drew is relentlessly poaching from us again. As long as he’s not a crime boss or a murderer, who gives a damn?” The rest of the staff murmured in agreement and I returned to the conference room. I watched the secondhand tick by on the wall clock—half excited, half worried. Please don’t be a crime boss...Please don’t be a crime boss... Four o’clock passed. Then four thirty. Then five. Then finally, five thirty. Convinced that today’s signing session was some type of elaborate joke, I pushed my chair up to the table and headed into my office. I decided to work on the files for our clients who existed in real

life, and when six thirty arrived with no sign of RD LLC, I called the bank. I needed to make sure the manager froze that three million until further notice. The receptionist was putting me on hold when a loud knock came to my door. “Come in!” I said, and Tina stepped inside my office. “Um...” She cleared her throat, and I noticed her cheeks were a bright pink. “Our potential client just got here.” What? “Does he know that he’s two and a half hours late?” I hung up the phone. “Go ahead and send him in.” She walked out and the door opened seconds later. I forced myself to smile, prepared my lips to say, “Hello and welcome to Lauren & Associates,” but the second the “client” stepped into my office, I felt all color leaving my face. “My apologies for being late,” he said. “My board meeting was—” He stopped mid-sentence and stared at me, letting that familiar, sexy smirk from last night slowly form on his lips. Today he was wearing a three-piece black suit with a sapphire blue tie, and he looked even sexier than he did last night. As he continued to look me up and down, I bit my lip to prevent my jaw from dropping—silently

hoping the floor would suddenly open beneath my feet and swallow me whole. “I was told this was someone named Penelope’s office.” He stepped closer to my desk, his eyes moving from my face to my silver nameplate. “Last night, you told me your name was Rachel. Did you not?” “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. —” I stood up and extended my hand to him, “What exactly is your name sir?” “My name is the same as it was hours ago when we were fucking,” he said. “Ryan. Dalton is my last name, though.” “Well, it’s nice to finally get an actual name from you, Mr. Dalton,” I said. “And it’s very nice to meet you for the very first time in my life, because we have never met before this exact moment in time. You can have a seat.” He smiled his perfect pearly whites and sat in the chair. Tina walked in and set a few glasses of water and a fruit tray on my desk before leaving us alone again. “Mr. Dalton, is there any reason why you didn’t tell us exactly who you were instead of using a coded LLC name?” “There are plenty of reasons.” His eyes met mine. “Before I go there though, is your real name Rachel or Penelope?”

“It’s Miss Lauren.” “Okay, Miss Lauren,” he said. “Unfortunately, I haven’t had the best luck with publicists in this city and my reputation tends to precede me everywhere I go. I wanted a chance to introduce myself personally instead of letting the words of the tabloids and the press do it for me.” He leaned back in the chair and it suddenly hit me. Ryan Dalton of Dalton International Estates and Realty. The self-made real-estate tycoon and owner of over a hundred commercial properties and vacation properties. A revered billionaire, yet a complete and utter playboy. I’d never paid too much attention to the tabloids or the lifestyle section in the newspapers, but I’d heard stories here and there about certain socialites who made me happy that I didn’t have to represent billionaires or clients who attracted such a high level of media scrutiny. “Are the images of last night finally coming back to you?” he asked. “Is that why you’re staring at me?” “Nothing happened last night. If it did, I think I would remember it.” “You don’t remember orgasming five times?” “No.” I blushed. “Let’s get back to talking about you.” “I left you an important note on your dresser.” “I never got it.”

“You never got it, or you never read it?” “Both.” He laughed his deep, sexy laugh and stood up— pulling an envelope from his breast pocket. “These are my terms. I need you to agree to them before we can go any further with talks.” “What?” I was confused. “You’re asking us to represent you and you think that you can set the initial terms before we even get to the real initial terms? With all due respect, that’s not how the client-publicist relationship works. We need to talk now.” “We can talk after you sign my NDA.” He pushed the envelope closer to me. “You also need to agree to comply with my company’s representation terms for legal reasons. Surely you can understand why someone like me would need that.” “Right...” I stared at the envelope and stood up as well. “So, honest question. Why did you even bother requesting a signing meeting if you knew you were only going to drop off a stifling stipulation contract?” “Well, for one, I’ve already paid you three million dollars for your services.” He looked amused. “Two, I like to personally meet whoever I’m going to be dealing with to ensure that they possess the proper temperament and stamina to handle me.” He looked me up and down again,

sending my nerves into a frenzy. “Although, if I had known I would be meeting you again, I would’ve been more than aware that you’re capable of handling every inch of me. Repeatedly.” “Mr. Dalton...” I hated the way my body was reacting to him right now. “I really would prefer if we at least talked a little bit today. This just isn’t how I normally do business with my clients.” “Are any of your normal clients paying you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a month?” I didn’t answer. “Then I think I’m more than worthy of an exception,” he said. “Read the contract. If you’re open to accepting the terms meet me at my Manhattan headquarters tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock. The address is stapled to a business card I’ve included and we can discuss things in my office where there’s actually more than ten square feet.” He looked around my office. “I think the terms are quite fair, so I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow, Miss Lauren.” I still didn’t answer him. “Should I assume that you’re going to continue to pretend as if we’ve never previously met?” “We haven’t.” I crossed my arms. “I’ll look at the contract and tell you my decision either way, Mr. Dalton. Have a great day.” He smiled and looked me over one last time before walking out of my office, placing the final

cherry on top of what was now officially the worst day of my life.

ONE DAY LATER

THE CLIENT RYAN There has to be a way I can get out of these boring ass meetings... I pretended to pay attention as the members of my board discussed the same ten topics they’d discussed for the past two months. Global Initiative. Press Plan. Stock Options. Repeat. It was as if they needed to incessantly reassure themselves that they’d voted to do the right thing, and I was wondering if I could go back in time to when I was nineteen years old and turn down their start-up funding. I poured myself a cup of coffee as the financial officers began reading their monthly report, letting my thoughts drift to the only thing I was truly able to focus on this morning: Penelope. Images of her puffy red lips and that black dress she was wearing yesterday were replaying in mind every five minutes. They’d seamlessly joined the images from the night we ‘didn’t meet,’ when she

rode my cock for hours and let me fuck her against her bedroom wall. I loved the way she screamed my name when we fucked... “Are we boring you, Mr. Dalton?” The lead board member, Nathaniel, interrupted my thoughts. “I’m scared to ask whether you’ve been paying attention to anything we’ve said.” “You should be,” I said. “I’ll look at my brother’s notes later to see if anything new was said today.” “Ugh...” He groaned. “Plenty of new things were said, but we’re making sure that we are all on the same page in regards to the global initiative. You know, that initiative we hope to launch as soon as possible as long as our beloved CEO can make a needed turn around with his public image.” “Your beloved CEO refuses to make any promises.” His face reddened and he looked as if he was going to launch into one of his usual, “You are so damn impossible” tirades, but my brother held up his hand. “I’ll be happy to let you all know that Ryan is meeting with a brand new public relations firm today,” he said. “He’s assured me that they seem like a perfect fit for him.” “Like that means anything.” Nathan mumbled. “Same shit, different day. They’ll quit like all the

others, and my money is on two weeks. Max.” There were murmurs of agreement around the table, and Leo shot me a “Please don’t fuck this up” look. Thankfully, he steered the subject toward our goals for the rest of the year and brought the meeting to a much needed close minutes later. As the board members filed out of the room, he motioned for me to stay behind. When the last of the members was gone, he let out a breath and loosened his tie. “What’s the name of this new firm you’ve hired?” “Penelope Lauren and Associates.” “Hmmm. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them.” He pulled out his phone and tapped his screen a few times. Then he rolled his eyes and let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Ryan, this firm isn’t even in the mid-level class of PR firms, and they have a staff of five. Well, six if you include the founding partner.” “I’m very impressed with your reading abilities. Please read me some more.” “It takes ten people to handle the logistics of a single month for you,” he said. “Twenty when you start talking aboutmultiple conferences and travel plans. So, please don’t tell me that this is the only firm you could get on the phone.” I didn’t answer. We both knew that was the case.

“What about Drew & Associates?” he asked. “I found them yesterday and they’re almost a first tier firm that seems to be doing pretty well.” He grabbed a pen and scribbled a few words on the back of a business card. “Whenever this Lauren & Associates firm realizes they can’t handle you, which will probably be minutes after meeting you, give this Drew firm a call.” “Good to know you have good faith in my decision-making skills.” “I only have faith in your business decisions, not your personal or publicist ones. Speaking of which, where were you Sunday night? I didn’t see you at the Oasis ribbon cutting ceremony.” I smiled, but I didn’t answer. “Ryan,” he repeated, looking confused. “Where were you Sunday?” “You told me to stop telling you about my sex life months ago. I’m remaining silent because I’m honoring that request.” “Jesus Christ...” He held up his hands in a mock surrender and headed toward the door. “You’re lucky I’m your brother and CFO.” “I’m well aware.” I tucked the Drew & Associates card into my pocket and headed to the elevator, taking it straight to the top floor. “Good morning, Mr. Dalton!” Linda greeted me as soon as I walked by her desk. “Your eleven o’clock just made it through security downstairs.

Should I have her wait a bit when she arrives to our floor or send her right in?” “You can send her right in,” I said. “Did the interns set up the coffee bar and contract tools like I asked?” “They did, sir.” “Good. Thank you.” I let myself into my office with my keycard and looked around, making sure everything was exactly how I preferred it. Then I realized, once again, that my office alone was twice the size of Penelope’s entire firm. I wasn’t sure why I appreciated the fact that her staff didn’t immediately start giving me a rehearsed pitch like the other firms, but I found that quite refreshing. Not only that, but not a single one of them sent me a string of follow up emails with that annoyingly familiar and overused, “So glad you came to see us today!” subject line. I walked over to my windows and pressed a button—forcing the curtains to draw open and expose a gray and rainy view of Manhattan below. I pushed the coffee cart over to my desk and picked up two cups for me and Penelope. As I was setting out the sugars, Linda’s voice came over my speakers. “Miss Lauren has arrived to the floor,” she said. “I’m sending her in now.” “Thank you, Linda.”

The door opened seconds later and Penelope stepped inside wearing a light beige dress that made me completely forget what the hell we were supposed to be talking about. Her full lips were painted in the same ruby red lipstick she was wearing when we first met and they perfectly matched the apple colored heels she was wearing. I could literally stare at you all day... “Good morning, Mr. Dalton.” She walked over to me and extended her hand. “Good morning, Miss Lauren.” I shook her hand and resisted the urge to pull her closer to me and initiate a much needed round two. “You can have a seat now.” “You have to let go of my hand first.” I let it go and waited for her to sit down before doing the same. I watched as she pulled a few colored folders from her briefcase and set them on my desk. She bit her bottom lip and mumbled a few words to herself before looking up at me. “Would you like some coffee before we begin?” I asked. “No, not at all. I don’t plan to be here that long.” “Excuse me?” I raised my eyebrow. “Did you need more time to read over my terms?” “No, I read them all just fine.” She slid the yellow folder to me. “Here’s the non-disclosure agreement you asked me to sign, so no worries. If

another firm calls to ask me about you, I won’t dare tell the truth or let them know that you’re practically a borderline psycho.” This better be some type of joke... “Come again?” “You heard me.” She opened another folder, a blue one. “I spent all night researching you and your issues before I read over your terms, so I find it quite ironic that you’re the one who needs a firm to help clean up your public image and work on your behalf, but the things you’re demanding make that completely impossible. In fact, most of what you’re requesting is worth far more than three million dollars, and I can now see why you paid it upfront.” I started to ask what the hell she was talking about, but she continued to speak. “First of all, you demand that we don’t book you for any interviews, and you refuse to practice getting any better at them?” She flipped a page. “This is coming from the man who said he can’t live without ‘fucking’ on live morning television last year? I don’t think so.” “Furthermore,” she said, talking a mile a minute, “I’m not sure why you think you’re above attending strategy sessions with the team, but I’ve never allowed any client to skip those and you won’t be the first. Huge bank account or not.”

“Okay, Penelope, Rachel—whatever you want your name to be today.” I’d had enough of this shit already. “You can get the hell out of my office now.” “I can get the hell out when I’m finished.” She glared at me, parting her sexy ass lips and I lost my next words. At that moment, Leo stepped into the room, but he didn’t make his way over. Instead, he simply stood by the door and stared at us, staying far out of Penelope’s view. “Second of all,” she said, looking down at her folder once more. “You demand that someone from my team be available on a twenty-four hour basis to personally make your coffee, ensure your dry cleaning is handled, and fetch your breakfast and lunch whenever you ask for it. That is never happening at Penelope Lauren & Associates. We are not interested in being a second branch of personal assistants for you.” “Did you miss the part where I said you could get out of my office?” “Third...” She ignored me. “You have some nerve to make a list of over fifty ridiculous demands that must be met on a weekly basis. They’re so beyond realistic that I’ll be surprised if any firm agrees to this.” She tossed the folder onto my desk and narrowed her eyes at me. “Even though this has made me see that you are

unbearably cocky and impossible, I’ve done you a favor and made a list of things that I think will help soften your image over the next few months. I’ve also printed out the definitions of a few important terms you should know whenever you start searching for your next PR victim.” I wanted to interrupt her never-ending rant, but I was aroused with every word that fell from her ruby red lips. “Finally,” she said, standing to her feet. “I wish you all the best in your search for a publicist, Mr. Dalton. And so we’re clear on the last checkbox of your term sheet, I’ll verbally confirm it as you require: No, I will not represent you, and no, I will not agree to agree to any of your outlandish rules. Also, for the record, no I did not receive your handwritten note.” She finally took a breath. “I’ll be sending you a refund of your payment later this afternoon.” “I personally think you should keep it,” I said, standing. “Maybe you can use it to buy some actual office space.” “I’d prefer if you used it to buy some damn manners.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I liked you a lot better in my apartment, when I didn’t know who you were.” I liked you a lot better when my cock was buried inside your pussy...

Before I could get a chance to say those words aloud, Leo walked toward us—clapping as if he’d just witnessed a real-life drama. “Please don’t go, Miss.” He extended his hand to Penelope. “My name is Leo Dalton and I’m the CFO here. I’m also, unfortunately, Ryan’s brother.” She looked back and forth between us before shaking his hand. “I’m Penelope Lauren.” “Well, nice to meet you Penelope,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re not having a better introduction to Dalton International Estates & Realty. I would love to give you a formal tour and talk to you about our company if you’re up to it. I would also really appreciate it if you allowed us to start over.” “There’s no need to start over,” I said, pulling out the business card he’d given me earlier. “Miss Lauren clearly doesn’t want to play by our rules and we have another option we can call.” Leo snatched the card from my hand and ripped it to pieces. “Miss Lauren, if you don’t mind, can I speak to you alone so we can try to agree on some new terms? I’ll gladly welcome your input and I’ll be very gracious for the opportunity.” He looked at me, daring me to interrupt his words. ‘The tour will only take fifteen minutes and we can talk briefly afterwards in the board room. Just me and you.” “I would love a tour,” she said. “Can I step outside and make a phone call first?”

“Absolutely.” He smiled at her. “Thank you, Miss Lauren.” “Goodbye, Miss Lauren.” I couldn’t help myself. “Mr. Dalton.” She gave me a look and left the room. When the door closed, Leo picked up one of the folders she left behind. “You’ve been taking your own terms and stipulation contracts to the PR firms? I don’t recall anyone here helping you draft these.” “That’s because I drafted them myself.” “I see...” He put on his glasses and read my words aloud. “Clause Four: The representative company for the client will ensure that he is not subject to any bullshit meetings. Bullshit meetings include, but are not limited to: strategy sessions, interview preparations, or press readings.” He tossed the folder to the floor and looked at me. “If those are your terms, what’s the point in hiring a PR company at all?” “You tell me.” “You really are a piece of work,” he said. “But you know, I really like Miss Lauren—small firm or not. She’s the first person I’ve ever seen stand up to you.” “She’ll also be the last.” “We’ll see.” He picked up the folder labeled, “Ways to Better Mr. Dalton’s Image” and headed

to the door. “Wait, one last thing. She mentioned something about you leaving her a handwritten note. What is she talking about?” “A note she definitely read and received. She’s fucking with me by denying it.” “Forget I asked.” He walked out of my office and I grabbed the last of Penelope’s folders. The one that read “Definitions for Mr. Dalton.” I flipped it open and saw she’d written definitions, but they were her own interpretations in regards to me:

Mr. Dalton, There are three terms and definitions you need to know before you start your next search for a publicist and I’m happy to spell them out for you below:

PUBLICIST This is what you need, Mr. Dalton. This is a person who can HELP you look like less of a cocky asshole to the press and your peers. This is also a person who you have to take direction from, not vice versa. (They run YOU. You don’t run THEM.)

MAGICIAN This is what you need to FIND. This is the only person who can honestly help you right now...

COCKY, IMPOSSIBLE, ARROGANT CLIENT No words are necessary for this one. The picture below should sum it all up for you.

My picture...

THE PUBLICIST PENELOPE “Here is where you’ll be free to bring your staff to the property for onsite staff meetings whenever necessary.” Leo Dalton showed me into a massive meeting space that was at least three times the size of our entire firm. “If you follow me across the hall, I’ll show you our world class spa and fitness facility that you’ll be free to use whenever you’re here as well.” I smiled and tried my best to look like I was giving him my full attention, but all I could think about was Ryan. How when I first stepped into his office, I had to completely resist the urge to tell him to take me against his desk and fuck me again. How my panties were instantly wet the second his dimples gave way with his smile. How his jaw clenched when he realized I was going to reject his offer... Despite the fact that the man was practically walking sex, his contract was nothing but red flags

from the very first page. I knew the moment I read over it last night that there was no way I could agree to it. Three million on the line or not. “Do you have any questions for me, Miss Lauren?” Leo led me onto the elevator. “Not at the moment,” I said. “I really appreciate the tour.” “I’m glad to hear that.” He took off his reading glasses and let out a breath. “I have to be honest with you for a minute, Miss Lauren. I didn’t have much faith in a small firm handling Ryan well, and I figured you’d be out the door within minutes of meeting him. But, before I walked in on you two, I’d called around this city to get references from both your current and former clients. They all had nothing but great things to say, and a couple of your former ones even admitted that they regretted leaving you.” He paused. “That said, I’m assuming you’re looking to become a larger, full service firm in the future?” “Yes, definitely.” “Good.” He led me off the elevator and into the glittering lobby. Then he glanced at his phone. “I tell you what, Miss Lauren. I’ll draw up exactly what me and the board are going to need to see from Ryan over the next ninety days, and then I’ll send a temporary contract to you tonight. You can email and call me with your concerns at any time,

but I’ll need an answer about the job in a week. Fair?” “Almost,” I said honestly. “If you’re going to insist on a temporary contract, we need to renegotiate the financial terms for tax purposes. He already paid us for the year, which I’ll happily refund. I just don’t want to keep more than what you’re willing to pay for a shorter time.” “How much has he paid you?” “Three million.” “That’s it?” He looked offended. “We’ve spent more than that killing negative press. I’ll double that for the ninety days.” “What?” I was certain I misheard him. “I’ll double it.” He smiled. “I’ll be sure to get the first draft of the contract to you tonight. My apologies for not being able to sit down with you anymore. I have to go put out another fire.” “I understand.” I shook his hand. “Thank you for the tour, Mr. Dalton.” “I’ll accept your ‘thank you’ after you accept my offer.” He laughed and returned to the elevator. When the doors opened, Ryan stepped off and immediately stopped walking when his beautiful eyes met mine. I tried to turn away from him and rush out of the building, but I couldn’t will my feet to move. He made his way over to me, giving me a look that made me wet all over again. “I would say that I

look forward to potentially working with you, Miss Lauren,” he said, “but that would be a goddamn lie.” “I feel the same, Mr. Dalton.” I ignored my frantic heartbeat. “I can admit that it was a pleasure seeing you again, though.” “It was a pleasure seeing you underneath me two nights ago,” he said, his voice low. “It’ll only be a ‘pleasure’ for me if that happens again.” “I can promise it won’t.” “Then that’s too bad,” he said. “Because once again, I think you’re lying to me. This time it’s about not receiving my note.” He leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “I’d be more than happy to leave you another one...” I stepped back once I realized I was on the verge of giving into him again. “I hope you find whatever person you keep talking about, Mr. Dalton. Have a great day.” I turned away and rushed out of the lobby before he could respond, realizing that new terms or not, the tension between us was going to make this job more than impossible. *** Later that night, I sat on my couch with a glass of wine in hand—reading over the new terms for the umpteenth time.

The board of Dalton International Estates & Realty only want me to complete three main things over the next ninety days: 1) A successful press tour for Ryan without incident “since he’s the face of our company and everyone loves a ‘changed man’ story.” 2) A strategic and public reveal about his private charity donations as “Behavior aside, Mr. Dalton has donated over three hundred million dollars to various charities he holds dear over the past few years.” 3) An “atonement style interview” with one of the anchors at RMC-TV for “an incident that was thankfully never seen or revealed to the public, but an incident that has caused a huge strain between our company and one of our lead suppliers.” I was certain I could get Ryan through a successful press tour, even more certain that I could make sure every person in this city swooned over his impressive charity record, but I was confused about the “atonement style interview.” I’d asked every person on my team to see if they could find out more about the “incident,” but they’d all come back to me with nothing but confusion. Curious, I sent Leo an email.

Subject: Atonement Interview Good evening, Mr. Dalton,

I’ve read over the contract thoroughly and am close to making a decision, but would you mind giving me a bit more information on the incident you want Ryan to be forgiven for? I was unable to find any information on this. —Penelope

His response was immediate.

Subject: Re: Atonement Interview Penelope, See the attached video and promptly delete it after viewing. —Leo Dalton

I clicked on the video and saw a grainy image of Ryan standing in a green room. He was attaching a wired mic to his suit jacket, smiling as a female producer handed him a stack of notecards. For three straight minutes, he simply nodded his head as the producer went over a few facts with him. I was about to ask Leo if he’d sent me the wrong video, but in the final thirty seconds of the clip, a man in a blue suit entered the room. He

extended his hand for a handshake, but Ryan simply stared at him. Then he punched him in the face. The tape ended as the man in the blue suit fell to the ground, and Leo sent me another email.

Subject: Re: Re: Atonement Interview Penelope, The man Ryan assaulted (i.e. the TV host who was supposed to interview him that day) is the son of AJ Aguirre, the CEO of Aguirre Bedding. They supply all our linens at every international property, and we begin negotiations for a renewal term soon. So, surely you can understand why Ryan apologizing for what he did is key to defrosting our relationship with Aguirre. Let me know if you need anything else, —Leo I watched the video a few more times and did a quick info search on AJ Aguirre and his son. Then I looked over the final clauses in the contract once more, confirming that most of the terms were in my firm’s favor. “I don’t understand why this is such a hard decision for you, Pen.” Sean plopped down on the chair across from me. “They’re offering to pay you double for half the work in half the time, all for one

client. What part do you really need to think about?” “The part where I’ve previously slept with this one client and there’s an automatic termination clause in the contract for any fraternization.” “You only have to worry about that if you plan on sleeping with him again, and your first time together doesn’t count.” He set his beer on the table. “You don’t want to sleep with him again, right?” “Right.” The lie rushed out of my mouth. “Well, problem solved. Besides, I highly doubt Ryan Dalton would continue to bring up the fact that you’ve had sex while you’re working for him. Hell, given the fact that he really needs good PR right now, I’m willing to bet he’ll be a complete professional.” I poured myself another glass of wine and steered clear of that line of conversation. “You know, the terms of this contract are more than amazing, and six million is more than enough to keep my firm afloat for a long time. And with the money, I can even hire a few part time assistants and outsource some much needed research help for any incoming clients.” “Six million will also allow you to buy me a much-deserved Tesla for Christmas, so thank you in advance.” He joked, but then his tone changed

completely. “It would also help you get rid of a certain someone sooner rather than later.” “Huh? A certain someone?” I shrugged. “Who are you talking about?” “Did the two of you wipe off the bottom of your shoes before coming into the living room today?” Sarah stared at Sean with a panicked look on her face, wielding a tube of wipes. “Yes.” Sean uncapped another beer. “I’m pretty sure I did that, Sarah. I also sanitized my hands before grabbing my beers from the fridge and wiped down every surface I touched in the kitchen. Would you like me to start taking showers in your guest bathroom before sitting on the furniture as well?” “Would you really do that?” She smiled. “That’s amazing and so very thoughtful of you.” Sean shot me a “What the hell?” look and I immediately emailed Leo.

Subject: Client Representation Offer Mr. Dalton, I happily accept the terms of your offer and I can start ASAP. Penelope Lauren

THE CLIENT RYAN Subject: P. Lauren & Associates Ryan, Penelope has graciously accepted our financial package in exchange for representing you for a limited time. She will officially begin this morning, so PLEASE try to make this work. With the date now set for the global initiative launch, we don’t have room for any unwanted media attention. In the interest of not repeating the same thing again, perhaps you should treat her to breakfast so you two can get on the same page and begin this partnership in a different way from all the others. Leo

This partnership has already begun in a different way from all the others... I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage working with Penelope at all, since simply catching

sight of her in the lobby this morning was more than enough to get me aroused. Shaking the thought of her away, I stepped off the elevator and headed straight to my office. I had enough work this week to keep me completely distracted, but for some reason my door wouldn’t open. I swiped my keycard against the panel repeatedly, waiting for the light to turn green, but it only flashed an “access not granted” red. Annoyed, I walked over to Linda’s desk. “Linda, do you know if IT reset all the key pads last night?” She shook her head, not looking up at me. “They didn’t reset the pads.” “So, all of your keycards work?” She nodded. “Well, can I kindly borrow your emergency key to my office so I can get to work, please?” “Well, I...It’s kind of...” She stuttered, finally looking up. “I don’t have it anymore.” “You lost it?” “No, it was taken, and your keypad is the only one that’s been reprogrammed.” The words rushed out of her mouth. “I told her it was a bad idea and I didn’t want to do it, but she insisted. She even threatened me.” “Who is she?” She didn’t have to answer that question. At that moment, Penelope stepped off the elevator and

walked over to us, her silver heels clacking against my marble floors with her every step. “Good morning, Mr. Dalton.” She smiled at me. “It’s good to see you here on time today. I’ve heard that you normally come into work two hours late.” “There’s no such thing as late when I’m the goddamn CEO.” I glared at her. “There also shouldn’t be such a thing as getting fired on your first day, but you’re pretty damn close right now. Reprogram my keypad and let me into my office. Now.” “No.” She threw my glare right back at me. “I’ve talked to quite a few people in the building over the weekend. They all say that you immediately go to your office when you arrive and you hardly come out and personally talk to them.” “That’s not a criminal offense, so reprogram my keypad and let me into my office. Now.” “Even though my plan calls for us to fix your outer image for the public...” she continued talking. “I think it’s quite necessary to work on your inner image as well. So, this morning and every morning for the next ninety days, you are going to personally greet the global department heads that work for you before starting your day. You will also join me for interview preparations in the morning for at least one hour, and then and only then will I allow you to retreat into your office.” “Did you just say you would ‘allow’ me?”

“I don’t believe I stuttered.” “Linda,” I said, keeping my eyes on Penelope. “Could you please leave the floor so I can talk to Miss Lauren privately, please?” “I think you should stay right there, Linda.” Penelope crossed her arms. “Just in case I may need a witness.” “The only thing she’ll be witnessing is the CEO putting his new publicist in her rightful place.” “This new publicist has already signed a contract saying that her place is actually above the CEO for the next ninety days.” “I don’t give a fuck what that contract says.” I stepped closer to her. “I had no hand in writing it, so I’ll have no hand in following it.” “You’re going to do exactly what I say, how I say, or there are going to be some consequences.” “Are you threatening me?” “No, I’m warning you...” Linda stood to her feet, looking back and forth between the two of us, and then she rushed toward the elevators. The second I heard the soft ping and the doors close, I spoke very slowly so Penelope could perfectly understand who the hell she was dealing with. “Miss Lauren,” I said, ignoring the fact that she looked sexy as fuck in her grey dress today.

“You’re going to let me into my office within the next ten seconds, or else.” “Or else, what?” She raised her voice. “Who’s threatening who now?” “Ten...” I started counting backwards, knowing damn well she would come to her senses before I reached one. “Nine...” “Eight...” Her face was red. “Seven...I’ll happily join you.” “Six. Don’t make me fucking continue...” She stood completely still, not batting an eye. “Five...Four...” I hesitated on four. No other publicist had ever made me think of doing something as childish as this before, but they almost always gave in to my demand. “Three...Two...” She didn’t move. “One,” I said, completely confused as to why she was still standing there. “Are you ready to be an adult now, Mr. Dalton?” She stepped closer to me. “Or, since you’ve made it to the end of your childish countdown, would you like to give me a punishment of some sort?” I simply stared at her. “Glad we could clear that up,” she said. “Now, if you would like to follow me onto elevator so we can greet your department heads, I would greatly appreciate that. If not, I can have the IT team pull our encounter from the security cameras and show

your board how you’ve treated me on my first day.” I glanced at the security camera above us and smiled. Then I stepped even closer to Penelope, matching her step for step until her back was against the wall. “First of all, even if you did ask the IT team to pull our current encounter from the cameras, there wouldn’t be anything to see,” I said. “And that’s because by reprogramming my keypad behind my back, you’ve disabled the cameras, and the CEO is the only one who can reset them. They can’t see a goddamn thing right now.” Her cheeks turned bright red. “Mr. Dalton—” “Second of all...” I said, gently pressing my finger against her lips. “I’m not sure what type of game you’re trying to play, but I want you to know that you will lose every time. Every. Single. Time.” “I’ve never lost, Mr. Dalton.” She bit my finger and I moved it. “I don’t consider my contract with your company as a game, but I’m willing to predict that you’ll eventually give in and lose to me.” “Is that a bet?” “It’s a guarantee.” I covered her mouth with mine to prevent her from saying anything else, to finally alleviate the thick, sexual tension between us. She murmured as I bit her bottom lip, briefly shutting her eyes. “This is why you shouldn’t have locked me out of my office...” I felt her unbuckling my pants.

“Now you’ll have to settle for me fucking you in the hallway.” Pushing her dress up her waist, I admired the sight of her dark red lingerie. “I didn’t wear this for you...” she whispered, a faint blush crossing her cheeks. “I’m sure you didn’t.” I spun her around so she was facing the wall, kissing the back of her neck. “You won’t need them for much longer anyway.” I pushed her panties to the side and slipped a finger deep inside her wet pussy, groaning as she let out a soft murmur. I pulled a condom out of my back pocket, but the sound of the elevator stopping on the floor broke my focus. Penelope gasped and I turned her around, smoothing her dress back over her thighs before adjusting my pants. “There you two are!” Leo walked toward us, smiling. “I heard the CEO is about to start doing daily greeting tours for the department heads who work their asses off for him. Is that true?” “Yes...” I was still upset about this, near-sex with Penelope or not. “Yes, that is very true.” “Great! Well, if you two don’t mind, can I join you?” “Absolutely,” we said in unison, and we did our best to avoid looking at each other for the rest of the day.

THE CLIENT RYAN Subject: Seriously?!!! You put me on your security team’s WATCH LIST? Can you kindly inform them that I’m not a real threat and that I don’t need to be patted down or sent through the metal detectors every time I come to your building? Penelope Lauren

Subject: Re: Seriously?!!! You are a real threat. You changed my keypads without my permission and you sexually harassed me on my floor because you knew the cameras weren’t watching. I was quite shell-shocked about the latter incident and I’m still recovering emotionally... (Penelope: 0. Me: 1) Ryan Dalton

Subject: Board Meeting. Please explain to me why you told the board that I would not only be making an apology for an old interview incident (I will NEVER agree to that), but that I’d re-signed a ‘no party and sex’ policy for a year? I don’t recall signing such a contract... Ryan Dalton

Subject: Re: Board Meeting. That’s more than okay. I knew you were itching to sign it since you’re not really into sex anymore. :-) I saw how busy you were this past week, and since I was an Art Major, I happily drew the signature for you. (Penelope: 1. Ryan: 1)

Subject: Late to work? So soon? Miss Lauren, It’s currently nine thirty in the morning and that makes you an hour and a half late to work. Seeing as though this is only your third week working under the contract and you’re such a perfectionist when it comes to being on time, I sincerely hope all is well with you this morning.

If you need anything, or if I can be of any assistance to you, please let me know. Ryan Dalton. PS— (Penelope: 1. Ryan: 2)

Subject: Re: Late to work? So soon? Mr. Dalton, Thank you so much for your kind concern when it comes to a rare tardy. It seems as if someone called my new town car driver and told him to pick me up from a hotel in New Jersey this morning instead of at my actual home. Nonetheless, I should be arriving to work shortly so we can continue working on the preparations for your live interviews. You’ll be happy to know that I invited the head of every charity you’ve ever donated to (twenty total) to join us for wine and cheese so they can watch you rehearse. I know you’ve actually never met them before so I figured them seeing you in your element (and at a nice dinner at your expense afterward) would help you behave. PS— (Penelope: 20. Ryan: 2)

Subject: I’m impressed! Ryan,

On behalf of the board, we are very impressed with the launch of your press tour with Penelope Lauren & Associates thus far! (And the staff loves the morning greeting tours. It makes them truly feel like part of your team.) The New York Times, Washington Post, The Wall Street Journal, and The Business Journal have all printed glowing profiles on you this week, so we’re all looking forward to seeing how you’ll improve in your live interviews while announcing our global initiative. ON ANOTHER NOTE: I’m sure this was a typo in your tech and transportation requests, but did you really mean to take Penelope’s town car access away for next week? (You also have the words “Block her ass from the building” written for the security team. That’s a joke, right?) Let me know. -Leo

THE PUBLICIST PENELOPE I stared at the subject lines of my most recent emails, unsure of whether to laugh or sigh.

Subject: Never thought I’d see the day when “Ryan Dalton” was likeable. Good job! Subject: Congratulations on making Mr. Impossible possible! Subject: What type of drugs did you slip into his system? Subject: Are you fucking him? (People are wondering if that’s your secret, but you can trust me with the truth. Are you?)

Over the past thirty days, Ryan had tested everything I thought I knew about being a publicist. He was definitely stubborn, beyond arrogant, but he had a soft side that reared its head occasionally.

A soft side that did nothing to ease the sexual tension between us. He was now up fifty to thirty in our game of “Who Can Drive the Other Person Insane the Best,” but he made it his personal mission to drive me home at the end of every day. We went at each other’s throats during our morning strategy meetings (He still had problems refraining from saying the word ‘fucking’ in mock interviews), but he insisted on treating me to lunch every afternoon. And even on nights like tonight, when he was refusing to work on the “atonement interview,” he volunteered to pick up some dinner for us in the meantime. It was moments like those that should’ve made me feel guilty about using him as a muse for all my late-night fantasies, when I often fell asleep with my fingers buried deep in my pussy. I should’ve been ashamed of picturing him fucking me in the middle of our mock interview sessions instead of giving him my complete attention. I was a complete and utter fraud by purposely buying real lingerie and wearing it under my dresses, hoping he would notice. I stood up from the boardroom table and looked outside the window. There were only sixty days left in my contract and I was honestly wondering if the two of us could possibly be friends after it was all over.

Or, at least have sex again... The sound of my phone ringing interrupted my thoughts and I looked at the screen. Sean. “Hello?” I answered. “Hello, Penelope.” There was a smile in his voice. “This is Penelope Lauren, my supposed best friend, right?” “It is.” I laughed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been returning so many of your calls and messages. “What’s going on?” “Not much. The stock market has been kicking my ass, I’m still waiting on you to volunteer to buy me a Tesla, and Sarah and me had sex the other day. We’ll probably continue doing that with each other for awhile and um...Yeah, that’s about it. Nothing new.” “Did you just say that you and Sarah had sex? Is this another Sarah or my germaphobe roommate Sarah?” “The second one.” “What!” My mind was blown. “How?” “What do you mean how?” He laughed. “There’s only one way to have sex. I was actually waiting for you to come home, but that was before you told me you were spending the night in your office. Anyway, she sat next to me while I was watching a marathon, and it kind of just happened. Okay, granted, she did get some weird, plastic paper for us to fuck on top of before we could go

any further, but other than that, it was pretty incredible.” “I can’t believe this.” I couldn’t stop laughing. “Well, good for you two. Maybe she’ll be more bearable now.” “Outside of the sex? Doubt it.” He put me on hold to order a cup of coffee. “What about you? Have you fucked your boss again?” “No, I have not fucked my boss again. Thanks for asking.” “You’re welcome. Besides, after all the time you’ve spent together without crossing the line, I’d say you more than deserve to. You should just go for it. If you really want it, that is.” “Trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to fuck Ryan Dalton,” I said, leaning against the window. “Because I totally do and I feel like every day I’ve spent here is a lost day of having him again. I just think we’re trying our best to fight it and remain professional. At this point, I honestly don’t think he would fuck me.” “He would.” I gasped at the sound of Ryan’s deep voice and slowly turned around. He was standing in the doorway with that familiar cocky smirk, holding the bags with our dinner at his side. “By all means...” he said, setting the food onto the boardroom table. “Feel free to continue your conversation. It sounds quite interesting.”

“I’ll call you back, Sean.” I ended the call and tried not to look directly at Ryan. “You know, since you’re not open to doing the atonement interview preparation anyway, I think I’m going to head back to my office and do some work from there.” “Would you like me to drive you?” “No.” My eyes finally met his. “I think I’d rather call a cab.” “That’s a waste of money.” He stepped closer to me, tilting my chin up with his fingertips. “You know I don’t mind driving you anywhere after hours.” “Yes, I’m well aware of that. I’m kind of hungry right now and need to get some dinner, though.” “Then you really don’t need to leave.” He placed his other hand against my waist. “You were the one who insisted that we eat dinner here tonight. Unless you were only saying that to get me out of the room...” “No.” I stepped back, feeling like my cheeks were on fire. “It’s just that...” I stepped back again. He smiled. “It’s just that what?” I thought my next move through for all of twenty seconds, knowing damn well it seemed like the most immature thing I could ever do. Just do it... I grabbed my purse and my dinner bag, and then I rushed out of the room, heading straight for

the emergency stairs. I took them down three flights, and then caught the elevator on the copy floor. When I stepped outside, I hailed the first cab that approached. “Broadway and Fifth Avenue, please,” I said to the driver. “The Office Suites.” He nodded and pulled onto the road, and as he past the first stoplight, my phone buzzed against my lap. Ryan. I didn’t answer it, and he called five more times before I placed my phone on silent. When I arrived to my firm, I didn’t bother walking to my own office. I plopped face-down on the entry room couch and groaned. I can’t believe he heard me say I wanted to fuck him again... I decided I would deal with seeing him tomorrow, but ten minutes later there was a knock at the door. I knew it was him without even answering it, but I didn’t get up. Instead, I called his phone. “Yes?” he answered. “Is there any reason why you can’t open your office door for me?” “I’m in the middle of an important interview.” “This late at night?” He had to be smiling. “I highly doubt that. Open the door or I will.” I remained face down and seconds later I heard the lock on the door slowly turning.

What the? I sat up right as he was pushing it open. “How did you get a key to my private firm?” “The same way you got a key to my private office.” He shut the door behind him, locking his eyes on mine. “I don’t believe we were finished working on my atonement interview.” “You said you had no interest in doing it, so I’m not going to push you.” “I find that hard to believe...” He walked over to the couch and I stood up, moving into the hallway. He followed me and smiled. “I think you should at least ask me why I don’t want to do it.” “It doesn’t matter since your mind is clearly made up.” “Ask me, Penelope.” “Fine. Why don’t you want to do the atonement interview, Mr. Dalton? “Because I have nothing to atone for,” he said. “The interviewer was fucking my almost-girlfriend behind my back, and he knew damn well that she was my almost-girlfriend. He’d been bragging about it for weeks.” “Almost-girlfriend?” I asked. “Between that and your random backwards countdown episodes, I’m beginning to think you really are a child.” “She was the closest relationship I’d ever had, and the closest I’d ever come to asking someone to

be mine,” he said. “I refuse to give her the official ‘girlfriend’ title since she was fucking almost all of my former friends behind my back.” “That’s more than understandable...Thank you very much for telling me that.” I realized he wasn’t going to let me get around him and leave. “Well, I’ll find a way to get around the atonement thing. I’ll try to find a way to prove that he has been playing the victim this whole time, and maybe I can work with that and restore the supplier’s relationship with your company that way.” He said nothing. He just looked at me, turning me on with each second that passed. “Well, if that’s all you wanted to talk about, Mr. Dalton...” I managed to step backwards a few times, to make it all the way inside my office. I secured my hand firmly on the doorknob so I could shut the door in his face. “I think we can talk more tomorrow.” “We can definitely talk tomorrow,” he said, moving my arm. “And we can definitely fuck tonight.” His lips covered mine in seconds and he pushed me back against the wall. His hands immediately went under my dress and he yanked off my panties—letting out a low laugh as he caught sight of the black lace falling to the floor. “I take it you didn’t wear those for me today?” He bit my bottom lip. “That none of the lingerie

you’ve been wearing to work recently was in hopes that I would notice?” “Did you notice?” “Every time.” He pinned me to the wall with his hips and continued his expert domination of my mouth. He was kissing me so wildly that the folders on the cabinet next to me fell to the floor—leaving scattered sheets all over the carpet. “Unbuckle my pants...” He commanded softly, but I didn’t listen. Instead I wrapped my arms around his neck and returned his forceful kisses, fighting him for full control. He slid his hands under my dress and squeezed my ass until I softened my kiss and gave into him completely, returning the control to him. As his tongue danced against mine, he lifted me up by my cheeks and carried me over to the desk, plopping my bare ass against the cool metal. Pulling away from my mouth, he pushed all my files and papers to the floor before laying me flat atop the surface. Keeping his eyes on mine, he unbuckled his pants himself, quickly freeing his huge, hardened cock. He stepped forward, grabbing my hand and silently commanded me to stroke him. He groaned as my hand moved up and down his length, as I leaned forward a bit and slowly took him into my mouth. I moved my mouth against his

cock even faster and he fisted his hands in my hair and began to breathe harder. “Fuck, Penelope...” His voice was harsh. “Fuck...” I could feel his cock getting even harder between my lips, feel him on the verge of exploding right onto my tongue, but he gently pushed my head away before he could finish. Looking beyond impressed, he kissed my lips and moved to the other side of me. My breath caught in my throat as he suddenly pulled me forward by my ankles so my legs were dangling off the edge. I didn’t get a chance to ask what the hell he was doing before he knelt between my thighs and sucked my clit into his mouth, making me cry out his name in mere seconds. With the soft strokes of his tongue, he teased me and brought me to the edge of an orgasm, but he never let me have it. Each time I was on the verge of coming, he simply stopped and blew against my clit—cruelly leaving me stranded between pleasure and an unbearable need to release. Still teasing, he slipped two thick fingers deep inside of me and my hips began to jerk. I grabbed the edges of my desk for support. “Please don’t stop, Ryan...” I begged. “Please...” “I don’t plan to,” he said, his voice low.

He continued to torture me with his tongue until I could barely handle anymore, until I screamed his name and my pussy throbbed against his mouth. Anxious to return the favor, I attempted to sit up, but he pressed his palms against my thighs— preventing me from moving. “Don’t get up.” He warned, briefly letting me go so he could put on a condom. When he was done, he took a seat behind my desk and pulled me up, positioning me over his cock and lowering me onto him inch by inch. “Ahhh...” I cried out as he roughly bit my bottom lip, as he attempted to distract me from taking the full length of him this way. “Ryan...” “Penelope...” He grabbed my hips once he was completely inside of me, keeping his mouth attached to mine as he rocked my body against his. “Come on my cock...” He briefly tore away from my mouth and kissed my neck. He planted wet kisses up and down my skin while still rocking me, and I felt tremors building inside of me. “Oh, god...Oh...” I shut my eyes and bit his shoulder as my body convulsed for the second time in a row. I felt him go stiff seconds after me, heard him asking me something I didn’t quite understand. We remained entwined and panting for what felt like forever. I didn’t want to move again, but he eventually lifted me off him. He set me on the desk

and threw away the condom. Then he stood up to readjust his pants and headed to the door. “You’re leaving?” I asked softly. “Now?” “Not at all.” He locked the door. “We have thirty days of lost fucking to make up for...”

THE CLIENT RYAN Subject: WOW. I never thought I’d say this, but you did a damn good job announcing our global initiative today. I actually enjoyed watching your live interview, and I’m happy you learned how not to drop an F-Bomb on live morning television. (Thank God for Penelope Lauren & Associates. Can you please give them a raise or something?) This email never happened and I still think you have another scandal up your sleeve somewhere... Nathaniel Chief Organizing Officer & Board Member Dalton International

Subject: Re: WOW. Thank you for the rare compliment, Nathaniel. I truly appreciate it and I will be sure to give

Penelope Lauren & Associates a bonus at the end of their term with us. You’re completely right about me having another scandal up my sleeve: Apparently, I’ve managed to get three women pregnant at the same time. You’ll be reading about it in the press tomorrow morning. Ryan

Subject: Re: Re: WOW. You better be fucking with me, Ryan. Pick up your phone. NOW. Nathaniel Chief Organizing Officer & Board Member Dalton International

Subject: Utter perfection from Penelope. Ryan, I’m currently heading to Mexico for a few days, but I just saw you on your fifth television interview this month. Good job. I also wanted to let you know that I’m not sure what Penelope did, but AJ Aguirre has agreed to supply our linens for the next ten years. He called me personally and said he “holds nothing against us anymore.” (Do you know how she did this?)

Who would’ve known that a small firm would’ve been exactly what you needed to turn your image around? It makes me wonder what all those larger firms in the past were doing wrong and if we should ask for refunds... Anyway, good luck on the remainder of your press tour. I’m honestly going to be a bit reluctant to let Penelope go at the end of her contract. —Leo.

Subject: Re: Utter perfection from Penelope. In regards to your last line, I need to talk to you about that. Let me know when you get back in town. —Ryan

THE PUBLICIST PENELOPE I took the elevator up to Ryan’s floor the following Thursday, my legs feeling weaker than ever. It’d taken me days to recover from the way he fucked me, and I was grateful that no one from my team had stopped by the office that night. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to look at him and even attempt to act professional after that. Not only that, but now he had the ultimate trump card and could have me fired per the fraternization clause if I did anything he didn’t like over the next few weeks. So, to prevent it from happening again, I’d used up three of my personal off days at the beginning of this week so I could formulate a plan. I vowed to show up four hours early every day. That way, I’d only have to be around him for five hours in the morning, the same time when our teams were around us and he wouldn’t be able to get me alone.

“Good morning, Miss Lauren!” His secretary greeted me as soon as I stepped off the elevator. “You’re here super early today. Why?” “Good morning, Linda,” I said. “I just have lots of work to do.” “Need help with anything?” Avoiding your boss... “Just the key to the conference room. Is Mr. Dalton here?” “This early?” She laughed and tossed me a key. “Never. It’s just you and me.” “Great.” I carried my files to the conference room and looked over the past week’s press coverage. Everything was positive, again. I checked my emails to make sure his event appearances were still set and noticed I had more emails from other PR firms.

Subject: Please tell me he’s at least paying you a million...You deserve it. Subject: What. A. Turnaround. Congrats! Subject: No, really. What type of drugs did you get Mr. Dalton to take?

I laughed and leaned back in my chair. I began writing out my team’s assignments for the week, and when I looked up I saw Ryan staring at me

from the doorway. Looking tempting as hell, he was dressed in grey lounge pants and a black T-shirt. “Mind if I join you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He simply walked over to me. “What if I told you that I do mind?” “I’d say tough shit.” He smiled. “Why are you here four hours early?” “I couldn’t sleep.” I shrugged. “Plus, I figured it made perfect sense to get here and be ready for your board’s final stock strategy meeting.” I paused. “Why are you here four hours early?” “I live in the penthouse across the street,” he said. “I also have an alarm that goes off anytime someone other than Linda accesses my floor during off-hours.” “Good to know.” “I think you’re attempting to avoid me lately.” He looked into my eyes. “Because we’ve fucked and you honestly think I would hold that over your head...” “I’m not attempting to avoid you.” I lied. “You have quite the schedule coming up and I want to be sure it’s still on track.” “You’ve had my schedule on track since the day you started,” he said. “And if you think you’re going to get away with getting here four hours early every day so you’ll only have to deal with me for five, you’re sadly mistaken.”

I didn’t say anything. I just sat there, completely speechless. Without another word, he stacked all my files and placed them into my box. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of my chair. “You’re going to let me into your office so I can finish?” I asked. “No.” He led me out of the conference room and to the elevator. I’m going to show you exactly where you need to go whenever you feel like coming to work four hours early. Hint, it’s my penthouse.” “And if I decide I’d rather come here instead?” “I’ll come here to get you again.” He pressed his lips against mine as the doors closed. “Or I’ll fuck you in the boardroom. I’ll be a gentleman and let you choose.”

THE CLIENT RYAN Several weeks later...

I could still smell the sweet scent of champagne in the boardroom when I walked by a few days later. My board members had spent all night celebrating the end of my successful press tour, and I’d surprised them all by leaving early. Of course, my excuse to them was that I was “tired,” but I’d spent my night in the same way I’d become accustomed to in the recent weeks. With Penelope. Her firm’s initial contract with us ended today, and not a single person on the board objected to extending it for another six months. They even offered to increase the amount by more than triple. There were just a few things I needed to personally amend before we pursued the deal. “Okay, lay it on me,” my brother said as soon as I stepped into my office. “I’ve got three meetings today and I’m hoping I can make two of

them less than ten minutes long. Where are we with the contract extension with Penelope Lauren and Associates?” “Everything is set, but I’d like us to amend the fraternization clause.” “Amend it or end it?” “End it.” “Why?” He shrugged, laughing. “Are you going to sleep with Penelope? I can’t imagine her ever doing that with you. She’s too classy, too smart, too —” He immediately stopped talking as if the truth was dawning on him. And then he began to pace my floor. “Please don’t tell me that you have fucked Penelope...” “Okay, I won’t.” “Are you shitting me?” He paced even faster. “Just when I thought you’d changed, just when I thought, ‘He finally gets it,’ you find a way to not get it. No wonder you were doing so well on your press tour...” “I like your rants better when you prepare them in advance,” I said. “They sound less juvenile that way.” “Have you two been fucking this whole time?” “Not the whole time. We didn’t fuck at all yesterday.” “Be serious with me.” He stood still, looking concerned. “Is this a fling that could come back to

bite us in the form of a sexual harassment lawsuit, or is this an actual relationship?” “The latter.” “Okay, that’s a start.” He plopped down on the couch, holding his hand over his heart. “That’s a very good start. For covering your ass purposes, when did this begin?” “Before she started here. She was the reason I missed the ribbon cutting ceremony at Oasis. We met at a club and had a one night stand, and I saw her again when I showed up to her firm. The irony in that is that I might’ve pursued her anyway if that hadn’t been the case.” “You really expect me to believe that?” “I don’t have a reason to lie.” “True.” He sighed. “Continue.” “The sex didn’t start until thirty days into her contract,” I said. “And even then, sex with her wasn’t like it previously was with other women.” “You mean there were rainbows and butterflies?” “There were feelings. Small feelings, but feelings nonetheless.” He raised his eyebrow, looking as if that was the most shocking thing I’d ever said. “So, you want to end that clause so you can continue sleeping with her?” “I would prefer the term dating.”

He stood up and walked over to me, placing his open palm against my forehead. “Are you sick today?” “I’m very well, thank you.” I ignored his laughter. “Just say you’ll agree to end the clause.” “I’ll definitely agree to it,” he said, looking at his watch. “But we’re going to discuss this— thoroughly, and I’m going to be sure there won’t be any legal ramifications from her or objections from the board.” “Sounds fair.” “It’s more than fair.” He headed toward the door. “I’ll call you tonight.” I took a seat at my desk and wrote the number twenty million in place of the six million for Penelope’s pending contract. Then I began masking the fraternization clause with a tube of white-out. “Mr. Dalton?” Linda’s voice came over my speakers. “Miss Lauren is here. Shall I send her in?” “Yes, please.” The door opened and Penelope walked right over to me, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether she should kiss me or not. It’d become a habit to do so when we went out on private dates or met up at each other’s places, but there was still that awkward ‘pause and deflect’ reflex when we saw each other at work. “You can have a seat, Miss Lauren,” I said.

“Miss Lauren?” She sat down, looking slightly confused. “I thought this was supposed to be a personal meeting for us.” “It is.” I pushed the contract across my desk. “I want you to consider an extended contract with Dalton International. You are undoubtedly the best publicist I’ve ever worked with, and my board can’t sing your praises high enough. I made a few amendments to the contract, more importantly the amount we’re offering and the fraternization clause.” She picked up the contract and glanced at it. “That’s a huge increase, Mr. Dalton.” “I’ll be sure there’s enough work to go with it.” She smiled, but it quickly faded. “So, you amended the contract so we can publicly tell people that we’re fucking?” “I’m sure certain people already assume that we’re fucking, but yes, this is a way to confirm it. And to also protect us both legally.” “This is...” She crossed her arms, and I braced myself for a rant of epic proportions. “This personal meeting you’ve been telling me about all weekend was just a ruse for you to ask me to sign an extension? “It was a ruse to ask you to be my girlfriend.” She pretended to look upset, but her cheeks gave her away. “You could’ve asked me that over the weekend.”

“You would’ve said no.” “No.” She smiled. “I would’ve said that the only reason you’re asking me to be your girlfriend is because you think we might possibly have more sex that way.” “We’re definitely going to have more sex, but if that was my reasoning, I would’ve just amended the fraternization clause in your contract and left it that. I’m asking you to be my girlfriend because I think I might actually like you.” “You might? How compelling. If that’s any indication of how you’d write a love letter, I don’t think I’ll ever marry you.” “I don’t think I’ll ever ask you to.” She laughed and I couldn’t help but break into laughter with her. “All jokes aside, are you being serious with me, Ryan?” “About the girlfriend part, yes. About the marriage part, it depends on if we’re still together in a few years.” “I see.” She stood up and walked behind my desk, sitting in my lap. “Well, I accept the offer to be your girlfriend, but I would like us to discuss the terms.” “What is there possibly to discuss about this?” “You committing to being a better client. That, and us finally having sex in your office.”

“I can commit to the first part.” I covered her lips with mine and unzipped the side of her dress. “There’s no need at all to discuss the latter part. That’ll be happening every day...”

**THE END**

A Letter to the Reader Dear Incredible Reader, Thank you so much for taking time out of your life to read this book! I hope you were thoroughly entertained and enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you LOVED it and have any extra time, PLEASE leave a review, OR find me here on Facebook so I can personally thank you :-) If you hated it, well...keep that shit to yourself! LOL (Just kidding. Feel free to let me know how I can improve next time!) I’m forever grateful for you and your time, and I hope to be re-invited to your bookshelf with my next release. (Speaking of my next release, if you’d like to be a part of my mailing list so you can be notified of my upcoming release dates and special offers, please sign up via this link. ) Love, Whitney G.

SNEAK PEEK OF NAUGHTY BOSS

He definitely wasn’t supposed to get that email ...

Subject: My Boss. Have I already told you that I hate my boss today? Sexy as hell or not, this pompous, arrogant, ASSHOLE asked me to pick up his dry cleaning the second I walked through the door. Then he told me that I needed to take his Jaguar to a car wash that was ten miles outside of the city, but only after I needed to stand in a never-ending line to buy some type of limited, hundred-dollar watch. I honestly can’t wait to see the look on his face two months from now when I tell him that I’m quitting his company and that he can kiss my ass. KISS. MY. ASS. All those former fantasies about him kissing me with his “mouth of perfection” or bending me over my desk and filling me with his cock are long over. OVER. Your bestie, Mya PS—Please tell me your day is going better than mine ...

Subject: Re: My Boss. No, you haven’t already told me that you hate your boss today, but seeing as though you’ve sent me this email directly, I know now ... Yes, I did ask you to pick up my dry cleaning the second you arrived to work to day. (Where is it?) And I did tell you to take my Jaguar to the car wash and pick up my thousand-dollar watch. (Thank you for taking five hours to do something that could be accomplished in two.) You don’t have to wait two months from now to see the look on my face when you tell me you’re quitting. I’m standing outside your office at this very moment. (Open the door.) No comment on your “fantasies,” although I highly doubt they’re “long over.” Your boss, Michael PS—Yes. My day is definitely going far better than yours...

THE BOSS Michael

Manhattan, New York

The last time my face was plastered across the front page of a tabloid, the headline was at least somewhat true. What I was currently staring at in this moment was beyond far-fetched, even for someone with a scandalous and sex-filled reputation like mine.

Playboy CEO of Leighton Publishing Leaves Woman Crying in Hotel Lobby After Hours of Loud Sex on Balcony

I flipped through the pages of The National Enquirer, skimming the details from the so-called “trusted source” while resisting the urge to roll my

eyes. According to them, I’d had sex with this woman in the penthouse suite of a hotel and simply put her out so I could have sex with someone else. And according to the woman who’d clearly concocted this bullshit story, she said my exact words to her were, “Thank you for letting me fuck your pussy. It’s time for me to fuck someone else’s now. You can see yourself out.” There was no mention of the fact that this very same woman was recently convicted for lying to a grand jury in a theft case, but tabloids were never interested in the truth. They only wanted to sell papers. I managed to get through the entire article without a reaction, but I couldn’t help but laugh at the last line: Rumors are now swirling that the ‘naughty’ CEO engages in sex with two different women for every day of the week. He apparently keeps a private schedule for his sex-life. I shook my head. It’s only one different woman for every day of the week... Tossing the tabloid into the trash, I remembered to send a generic text to the women I planned on seeing this week. There was Lisa on Tuesday, Mariah on Wednesday, Hannah on Thursday, and Tiffany on Friday. Michael: Looking forward to seeing you this week.

Their responses came in exact succession. Lisa: Looking forward to seeing you, too :) Mariah: Can’t wait to fuck you again ... Hannah: Let me know if you want to change it to an earlier day :) Tiffany: Anytime :)

With a few minutes to spare until my six o’clock meeting, I set a box of potential front-list novels on my desk. I made two pots of coffee and opened new notepads. Then I impatiently waited for my executive assistant. I’d long given up on her arriving early to meet me for anything because she was always five minutes late. She literally lived right across the street from the building and she never ceased to amaze me with her endless excuses as to why she couldn’t be on time. Ten minutes past six, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Fifteen minutes past six, I wondered if my previous thoughts of her being the most incompetent assistant I’d ever had were true, and at twenty minutes past six, I caved in and called her desk. “Yes, Mr. Leighton?” she answered on the first ring. “Did you forget that we’re supposed to discuss the winter selections today?” I asked. “You know

how I feel about things needing to be on time.” “Oh, right! I am so sorry! I got caught up on these reports, but I’m on my way.” She hung up, and within minutes she walked into my office carrying a box of assigned novels. She placed it on my desk and sat across from me. “Wait.” She held up her hand. “Before we start, can I ask you something personal?” “No.” “What if it’s something important?” “It can’t be important if it’s something ‘personal,’ because you’re not entitled to know anything about my personal life.” “Are you really as bad as all the tabloids say you are?” She raised her eyebrow. “Like, when do you possibly find the time to sleep with so many women since you’re always here working?” I could’ve sworn I said no ... I gave her a blank stare. “I deserve to know what type of man I’m working for,” she said, crossing her arms. “Especially if this man wants me to keep the truth about how difficult he is to work for under wraps.” “Are you threatening to blackmail me?” “No.” She smiled. “I just really want to know if your sex life is as exciting as the press makes it seem. I actually think it’s pretty hot, and off the record, I am totally willing to look past the nonfraternization policy if you ever want to try me

out.” She lowered her voice. “I can be naughty in the bedroom, too. I can let you have my pussy, and you can leave me hanging in the hotel lobby afterwards, if that’s what you’re into.” Jesus... “Can we please get started with the work?” I rolled my eyes. “I need your thoughts on the titles you were assigned so we can send them down to marketing tomorrow.” “So, right after that I can go?” No, right after that I can ‘fire’ you ... “Yes.” I cleared my throat. “What did you think of Grisham’s latest?” “His latest what?” “His latest book.” I pointed at the box she’d brought in, at the advanced copy of The Whistler. “It was one of the three legal thrillers you were supposed to read this month.” “Oh, yeah.” She picked up the hardback and flipped through its pages. “I thought it was very good. Very legal, very thrilling.” “Can you please be slightly more specific than that?” “I really liked the book’s cover a lot.” She ran her fingers across the cover. “He really pulled me into the story with it, you know? This image of the boats docked at an orange sunset sea was quite compelling. I think the graphic artist definitely deserves an award.”

Silence. “We’ll come back to the thrillers,” I said finally. “You were also supposed to read five romance novels. Which one would you recommend the most?” “Well,” she said, leaning forward and pouring herself a cup of coffee. “It was a hard choice, and I do mean a really hard choice, but ... Out of the amazing ones I was assigned, I think loved the one that ended in a happily ever after the best.” “Every romance novel ends in a happily ever after, Penelope.” I felt my blood pressure rising. “That’s what makes it a fucking romance.” “Really? Wow. I never knew that. So, I guess I loved them all!” I stared at her, clenching my jaw. I always thought she was on the incompetent side from the very day she started, from the moment she said, “So, you’re a literary publishing company and you only publish books? Why not movies?” And somehow, I’d managed to look past that. But this? This was bullshit and she was far worse than any of my other failed and fired assistants. “Have you read any of the front-list books, Penelope?” “No, but only because I didn’t know that I personally had to.” She slurped her coffee. “I mean the books got read, but you never said that I was the person who actually had to read them.”

“What the hell are you saying?” “I’m saying that I’m working really smart here. I hired a virtual assistant and paid her a couple hundred bucks to read all of them. Oh, and I sent a few of them to some book bloggers on Facebook that I follow. They like, totally live for this reading stuff so they’ll probably have those ARCs done even sooner. Can you believe they like, actually enjoy reading?” “Let me get this straight ...” I tried to keep my voice calm. “I hired you to be my executive assistant and you outsourced all of your work to other people?” “Not all my work. Just the stuff I don’t want to do. I mean, occasionally, I’ll read a page or two to keep my brain refreshed, but reading isn’t really my thing. And you only gave me a month to read ten books. Ten, Mr. Leighton.... That’s technically hard labor and I could sue.” “This is a fucking—” I caught myself. “This is a publishing company. We publish books, and books being ‘your thing’ is the very first thing we asked about on your application.” “Oh, I lied about that part, but only that part. Everything else I wrote was honest, especially the part about wanting to work under a sexy CEO for a change.” “Penelope ...” I held back a groan. I didn’t need to waste any more of my time with this. “You can

get the hell of out my office now.” “Really?” She stood up smiling. “I was hoping we’d get out of here early. My favorite show will be on in an hour. You know, maybe you should ask me to review TV shows—I’m sure I’d impress you that way.” She shrugged and headed to the door. “See you tomorrow!” The second she left my office, I sent my advisor, Brad, an email.

Subject: Tell HR to Fire My Executive Assistant. Now. Right now. Michael Leighton, CEO, Leighton Publishing

I walked over to my beverage cabinet and unlocked it, pouring myself a much needed shot of scotch. I downed it and quickly poured another. As it was burning its way down my throat, Brad’s ringtone sounded on my cell phone. “Yes?” I answered. “You want to take one good guess as to what I’m looking at right now?” “Depends on if I’ll win a prize for getting it right or not.”

“I’m staring at the cover of Page Six with an undeniably-not photo-shopped picture of you. It’s definitely you and one of your ridiculously expensive watches with a Cuban cigar between your lips.” “Sounds like a very good photo. Feel free to send me a copy.” “Oh, but that’s not the best part of this photo. The best part is the three bikini clad women with messy hair who literally look like they’ve all just fucked you. Would you at least like to guess the headline?” “You still haven’t mentioned a prize. Is there a prize?” “Playboy CEO Beds Three Busty Blondes in Belize. What do you have to say for yourself, Michael?” “Not much.” I walked over to my desk and clicked on the picture he’d emailed me. “They did a brilliant job with the use of alliteration in the title, though. They must have finally hired a competent editor.” “God, Michael ...” He sucked in a breath and sighed. “Do we have any grounds to threaten them with retraction and defamation, or is this true?” “It’s partially true.” “Which part?” “The part about me being in Belize.” “Please stop fucking with me.”

“Fine.” I smiled. “I only ‘bedded’ two of the busty blondes. Not three.” “Oh, just two. Well that’s quite comforting and I guess they owe you an apology. Not. Anything else?” “Yes. The article says I’m wearing a Rolex in the photo. I haven’t worn a Rolex in over five years.” “Ugh.” He groaned. “I’m using one hundred thousand dollars of our public relations account to prevent them from running this on Friday. I’m also sending them an additional two hundred to three hundred fifty thousand to refrain from mentioning your name or running your picture for the next two months.” “Thank you.” “Please don’t. I’ll need a list of everything you’ve done over the past eight months so I can clean it up in advance. And you know, for someone who plans to take his company public within the next two years, I would think that you would try a lot harder to clean up your image and stay out of the press. Otherwise, the only investors you’ll attract will be me and you.” “Noted.” I poured one last shot of scotch. “Did you get my email about needing a new executive assistant?” “Another one? This is number seven.”

“Eight. However, I’ve yet to be sent a competent one. Perhaps if you used a different screening agency, or at least let me sit in on some of the interviews—” “No. I’ll tell you what I will do, though. But only if you do something for me.” I was silent, so he continued. “Could you kindly keep your dick in your pants for the next twelve months and try not to fuck anyone?” Twelve months? “Anyone?” “ANYONE. ANY-ONE.” He enunciated every syllable. “At least anyone who will definitely draw attention to you and your unfortunate, insatiable ways. And that includes all the women you have lined up for this week. Your assistants may not have known what those small blue dots on your digital calendar mean, but I do. Cancel them all right now. You can sleep with whoever you want again after you successfully go public.” I hesitated for a long while, but I realized that what he was saying made perfect sense for the sake of the company and my image. “Fine,” I said at last, begrudgingly sending them all my standard, “Something just came up. I’ll have to reschedule,” message and walked over to my windows. “I’m not going to use our partner agency to find your new assistant. I’m going to handle this

personally. Any requirements on your end?” “Hiring someone who is capable of reading a book is a good start. I’d also prefer someone ten to fifteen years older than me, married or already engaged, submissive enough to complete tasks without sarcasm, Ivy League education, and someone who knows how to tell the goddamn time.” “Yeah, okay. Let’s put up the job description in those exact words and see how much of a field day the press has with that one.” “I’m willing to bend on the Ivy League part if it’s a college with a good reputation. I’m not bending on anything else.” “We’ll see.” He was definitely rolling his eyes, and I could tell he was about to give me his much repeated lecture about hiring laws and blind interviews, so I beat him to it. “Just get me the best person for the job. I’ll wait however long it takes since this “fire today, hire tomorrow” approach isn’t working. And actually, just get me someone who impresses you, because if that’s the case, I know this person will impress me.” “Now, you’re finally thinking smart,” he said. “Give me six weeks. I’ll screen the hell out of everyone and make sure the next executive assistant you have is someone who’ll last over a year.

“Thank you, Brad.” I hung up, wanting to feel optimistic, but with my track record, I knew the odds of me employing the same executive assistant for a year were highly unlikely. Just like I knew the chances of me going twelve months without fucking someone were too unbelievable to completely fathom. I’ll try it though....

Naughty Boss is Book #1 in the Steamy Coffee Reads Collection and can be purchased here.

SNEAK PEEK OF REASONABLE DOUBT

Prologue Andrew New York City is nothing more than a shit-filled wasteland, a dump where failures are forced to drop all their broken dreams and leave them far behind. The flashing lights that shined brightly years ago have lost their luster, and that fresh feeling that once permeated the air—that hopefulness, is long gone. Every person I once considered a friend is now an enemy, and the word “trust” has been ripped from my vocabulary. My name and reputation are tarnished, thanks to the press, and after reading the headline that The New York Times ran this morning, I’ve decided that tonight will be the last night I ever spend here. I can’t deal with the cold sweats and nightmares that jerk me out of my sleep anymore, and as hard as I try to pretend like my heart hasn’t been obliterated, I doubt that the agonizing ache in my chest will ever go away. To properly say goodbye, I’ve ordered the best entrées from all my favorite restaurants, watched Death of a Salesman on Broadway, and smoked a Cuban cigar on the Brooklyn Bridge. I’ve also booked the penthouse suite at the Waldorf Astoria, where I’m now leaning back on the bed and threading my fingers through a woman’s hair— groaning as she slides her mouth over my cock.

Teasingly darting her tongue around my tip, she whispers, “Do you like this?” as she looks up at me. I don’t answer. I push her head down and exhale as she presses her lips against my balls, as she covers my cock with her hands and moves them up and down. Over the past two hours, I’ve fucked her against the wall, forced her to bend over a chair, and pinned her legs to the mattress while I devoured her pussy. It’s been quite fulfilling—fun, but I know this feeling will only last for so long; it never stays. In less than a week, I’ll have to find someone else. As she takes me deeper and deeper into her mouth, I tightly tug her hair—tensing as she bobs her head up and down. Pleasure begins to course its way through me, and the muscles in my legs stiffen —forcing me to let go and warn her to pull away. She ignores me. She grips my knees and sucks faster, letting my cock touch the back of her throat. I give her one last chance to move away, but since her lips remain wrapped around me, she leaves me no choice but to cum in her mouth. And then she swallows. Every. Last. Drop. Impressive... Finally pulling away, she licks her lips and leans back against the floor.

“That was my first time swallowing,” she says. “I did that just for you.” “You shouldn’t have.” I stand and zip my pants. “You should’ve saved it for someone else.” “Right. Well, um...Do you want to order some dinner? Maybe we could eat it over HBO and go at it again afterwards?” I raise my eyebrow, confused. This is always the most annoying part, the part when the woman who previously agreed to “One dinner. One night. No repeats.” wants to establish some type of imaginary connection. For whatever reason, she feels like there needs to be some type of closure conversation, some bland reassurance that’ll confirm that what just happened was ‘more than sex,’ and we’ll become friends. But it was just sex, and I’m not in need of any friends. Not now, not ever. “No, thank you.” I walk over to the mirror on the other side of the room. “I have someplace to be.” “At three in the morning? I mean, if you just want to skip the HBO and go for another round instead, I can...” Her irritating voice fades into my thoughts, and I begin to button my shirt. I’ve never spent the night with a woman I met online, and she isn’t going to be the first.

As I adjust my tie, I look down and spot a tattered pink wallet on the dresser. Picking it up, I flip it open and run my fingers across the name that’s printed onto her license: Sarah Tate. Even though I’ve only known this woman for a week, she’s always answered to “Samantha.” She’s also told me—repeatedly, that she works as a nurse at Grace Hospital. Judging by the Wal-Mart employee card that’s hiding behind her license, I’m assuming that part isn’t true either. I look over my shoulder, where she’s now sprawled across the bed’s silk sheets. Her creamy colored skin is unmarred and smooth; her bow shaped lips are slightly swollen and puffy. Her green eyes meet mine and she slowly sits up, spreading her legs further apart, whispering, “You know you want to stay. Stay...” My cock starts to harden—it’s definitely up for another round, but seeing her real name has ruined any chance of that for me. I can’t stand to be around someone who’s lied to me, even if she does have double D tits and a mouth from heaven. I toss the wallet into her lap. “You told me your name was Samantha.” “Okay. And?” “Your name is Sarah.” “So what?” She shrugs, beckoning me with her hand. “I never give my real name to men I meet on the internet.”

“You just fuck them in five-star hotel suites?” “Why do you suddenly care about my real name?” “I don’t.” I glance at my watch. “Are you spending the night in this room or do I need to give you cab money to get home?” “What?” “Was my question unclear?” “Wow...Just, wow...” She shakes her head. “How much longer do you think you’ll be able to keep doing this?” “Keep doing what?” “Chatting someone up for a week, fucking her, and moving on to the next. How much longer?” “Until my dick stops working.” I put on my jacket. “Do you need cab fare or are you staying? Check out is at noon.” “Do you know that men like you—relationship avoiders, are the type that typically fall the hardest?” “Did they teach you that at Wal-Mart?” “Just because someone from your past hurt you, doesn’t mean that every woman after her will.” She purses her lips. “That’s probably why you are the way you are. Maybe if you tried to actually date someone, you’d be a lot happier. You should take her out for dinner and actually listen, see her to her door without expecting an invitation

inside, and maybe bypass the whole ‘let’s go fuck’ in the hotel suite thing at the end.” Where are my keys? I need to go. Now. “I can see it now...” She can’t seem to shut up. “You’re going to want more than sex one day, and the person you want it from is going to be someone you least expect. Someone who will force you to give in.” I pull my keys from underneath her crumpled dress and sigh. “Do you need cab money?” “I have my own car, dick-face.” She rolls her eyes. “Are you really this incapable of having a regular conversation? Would it kill you to talk to me for a few minutes after sex?” “We have nothing more to discuss.” I set my room key on the nightstand and walk toward the door. “It was very nice meeting you, Samantha, Sarah. Whatever the hell your name is. Have a great night.” “Screw you!” “Three times was more than enough. No, thank you.” “Things are going to catch up to you one day, asshole!” She yells as I step into the hallway. “Karma is one hell of a bitch!” “I know.” I toss back. “I fucked her two weeks ago...” Reasonable Doubt #1 is currently FREE on all platforms, and the full series (Episodes 1-3) is now

available in a full series boxed set!