Still, my sexy Brit had liked the silly things I'd said. At least, he seemed to like them. Maybe he was pretending to, so I'd have sex with him. Whatever. I'd wanted a fling, and I'd had one. Yay, me.
I sit down at my desk in the cubicle zone and resolve to never think of Friday night again. My large, steaming latte from Starbucks calls to me, so I take a swig. Mm, yummy goodness.
A memory of the sexy Brit's face pops into my mind. Oh yeah, yummy goodness there.
Stop that, I command myself. You're a strong, capable woman who has a freaking job to do.
Yes, I do. My job sucks in every way imaginable, but I will do it anyway. Straightening in my chair, I take another sip of my latte and log on to my computer. Like the other paralegals and the interns, I have a crummy chair inside a crummy cubicle. My coworkers named all of us the plebs, a term taken from ancient Rome, which means we're the dirt Empress Raisa scrapes off her shoes. Other attorneys work here, but she has no partners. That would give somebody else a measure of control and a financial stake in the firm. Raisa Volkov does not share authority.
The most annoying part of all is that I still admire her. She built this firm from the ground up and made a name for herself, not only in New York, but around the country.
Yeah, I'm a pathetic fangirl.
"Elena!"
Oh great. Her Royal Highness is summoning me. I rotate my chair toward her office door and smile politely. "Good morning, Raisa. What can I do for you?"
"Why don't I have the Caldwell case file? Someone didn't put it on my desk this morning."
"Someone" hadn't gotten out the file because another someone hadn't said she needed it.
Raisa jabs a finger in the air in my general direction. "Go get it."
Naturally, the most obnoxious woman in New York looks like a supermodel. She has long legs and a slender body, with ebony hair that glistens beautifully and skin that glows even in lighting conditions that make me look sallow. According to the male interns, her dark eyes lend her an aura of mystery.
She storms up to me dressed in her Armani pantsuit, towering over me in a way that makes me feel like a munchkin, and taps one finger on my desk. "Why aren't you getting that file? Go. Now."
"Yes, Raisa. Right away."
I scurry off to the file room and retrieve the documents she wants. Everything is on the firm's servers, but lawyers seem to have a weird aversion to looking at files on their computers. They even take notes on pads of paper, instead of digital tablets. That leaves us paralegals and interns to brave the dusty, windowless file room to get whatever the attorneys need.
At least the maze of cubicles where we all work gets some sunlight, even if it's secondhand. The attorneys' offices rim the cubicle zone, and every office has large windows. The glass walls can be turned opaque by flipping a switch, but most of the time they're clear, giving the grunt workers a touch of natural light.
When I get back to my desk, I see Raisa's office door is shut. I swig my cold coffee, then approach her door. Just as I raise my hand to knock, the door swings inward.
"There you are," Raisa says, like she's been waiting hours for me to come back. It's been ten minutes. She snatches the file out of my hand. "Get in here. We need to talk."
A sour taste creeps into my mouth. She's about to fire me. On day three.
Cursed, for sure.
I dutifully walk into her office. When she shuts the door, I flinch. I feel like a peasant about to be guillotined, and the thump of the door was that giant blade lopping off someone else's head. Next up, me.
Raisa points at one of two chairs positioned in front of her desk. "Sit."
A man stands at the window, facing away from us. The sunshine burnishes his blond hair with streaks of molten gold.
I flump onto the chair.
Raisa settles onto her large executive chair behind the desk. "I've hired someone to replace Lucas Miller."
Though I've never met Lucas Miller, I've heard the office gossip about him. He handled corporate law before he quit suddenly a few days before I started my job here.
Raisa waves a hand negligently toward the man who still faces away from us. "Meet Lucas's replacement, Chance Dixon."
The man pivots on his heels to face me.
A tingle sweeps over my entire body, and I suddenly can't take in a whole breath. I stammer something resembling "hello," though what comes out of my mouth isn't actually a word.
The sexy Brit from the hotel stares at me, his face blank.
I stare right back at him, probably looking like a stupefied moron.
Raisa doesn't seem to notice our reactions to each other.
Damn, he looks even better than Friday night, dressed in a navy suit that brings out the color of his eyes and accentuates the panty-melting beauty of his body. It ought to be illegal to look so good.
His blank stare dissolves into a smile that curves his lips little by little, heating up with every millimeter his mouth moves. His gaze warms too, burning into me with the heat of the midday sun toasting my bare skin. One side of his mouth kinks upward more than the other in the sexiest lopsided smile I've ever seen.
My lips curl up at the corners, while my body rouses the way it had Friday night, readying for whatever this man wants to do to me.
We're in the office. With my boss. And I am getting more and more turned on just looking at Chance Dixon.
Still oblivious, Raisa motions for Chance to sit in the chair beside me.
I try not to stare anymore, but honestly, I only have so much willpower. When he passes by me, his ass is an arm's length from my face. I've never seen him naked, but I've had my leg strapped around him and felt those taut, powerful glutes.
He settles that perfect bottom onto the chair beside me, propping one ankle on the other knee.
Raisa smiles at him with all the flirtatiousness of a teenager, even batting her eyelashes. "I'm so pleased you've finally come home to our firm, where you belong." She aims her businesswoman smile at me. "Chance is my husband."
"Ex-husband," he corrects.
The lovely blush of desire that warmed my entire body snuffs out. Her ex-husband? She'd called him husband, no ex. Coupled with the way she batted her lashes at him, that implies she doesn't think of him as her former spouse, but as hers, period.
Fantastic. I had a quickie in an elevator with the ex-husband of my bitchy boss who hates me, and she wants him back. Does he want her back too? If he volunteered to work here, he must want to be close to her. Why did he seduce me the other night? A divorce lawyer who's a cheater. Doesn't that just figure.
Nope, my luck has not changed one bit.
Back in the hotel, I'd hoped his name, Chance, might be a good omen or something. Wrong. The dice got tossed, and I hit snake eyes.
Raisa waves her hand in the way I've already figured out means she's dismissing me. "Elena, you will work exclusively with Chance until I say otherwise. Do whatever he says. Chance, think of her as your slave."
I glance sideways at him.
He smirks at me while he tells my boss, "Thank you, Raisa. I've always wanted a slave of my own."