Page 27 of His Temptation
“Understood, Mr. Monroe,” she says, then walks outside.
I’m left standing in my own personal hell. My head falls back as I realize how screwed I am. No matter what I say or do, I don’t think my thoughts are going to change. This is going to be one long weekend. I should find someone to bring back to my hotel room to remind me what I can and cannot have. And my assistant is one thing I cannot have.
The flight to LA is quiet. We’re sitting on opposite ends of the plane from each other. I can’t tell exactly how mad she is right now, but I’m itching to find out.
To occupy my brain, I pull out my laptop and work. Not without noticing that she does the same. I do have to give it to her—she’s a great assistant. She works hard and never makes the same mistake twice. Most importantly, she isn’t after me.
Which is a good thing. It’s a damn good thing, no matter what my brain is telling me right now.
When she told me she had been taking care of her brother since she was sixteen, I almost fell out of my chair. I can’t imagine what she’s been through. She has put all her happiness aside to make sure she gives him a good childhood. I’m absolutelyfloored that she has been able to accomplish what she has, given her life circumstances.
She is now the assistant to one of the wealthiest executives in New York City, and she’s only twenty-one. And she’s killing it too.
When the plane touches down, our luggage is transferred into the town car, which transports us to our hotel in LA.
She practically has her head out of the window the entire drive, like a dog. It’s not until we are minutes from our hotel that she sticks her head back in with a smile.
“This place is so amazing.”
“You’ve never been to LA before?” I ask.
“I’ve never been out of the city before,” she says as her eyes hit mine.
I’m dumbfounded. She’s never been outside of New York City.
“Never?” I ask.
“When was I going to fit that in while raising an adolescent boy with practically no money to my name?”
Fuck, I’ve lived a privileged life. Sometimes, you can live in your own sorrows for so long that you forget other people have had it so much worse.
When the driver opens the door, I’m saved from answering her because I have no good response. And that doesn’t happen to me, not anymore at least.
After we check in, we make it to our rooms on the top floor.
“I’ll come to your room when it’s time to go downstairs. Does a quarter to eight work?”
She nods her head and disappears into her room.
I knock on her door at exactly a quarter to eight. When she opens the door, my breath catches in my throat. I do my best to recover before she notices anything.
Does she just keep getting more beautiful by the day, or was I just blind as fuck when I met her?
Her black dress fits her body like a glove. It’s a see-through mesh material that looks like it has a nude-colored fabric underneath. It’s giving off this illusion that maybe it’s her skin. My dick is eager to see what she looks like without the dress on.
The lights of the city shine through the window behind her, but all I see is the woman before me. My pulse is a dangerous drumbeat.
“You clean up nice, Mr. Monroe,” she says with a smile on her face.
I don’t miss the appreciative gleam in her eyes as they take in my suit.
“I think you’re the one who cleans up nice. That dress—” I start but catch myself before I say too much. “It’s distracting. Just remember, we’re not here for distractions; we’re here for work.”
Her face falls slightly before she recovers. “I’m just here to do my job, like always, Mr. Monroe.”
After an hour of schmoozing with all the people in the industry, I can tell Kylie is exhausted. It’s not easy to come to these events and make the kind of small talk that it takes to keep the evening going. Then I see Galvin approach her when she’s at the bar. My body tenses at just the sight of him near her.
What is his angle? Does he know that she is my assistant?
