Page 47 of Jealous Boss

As much as I hate the thought of her having been shipped off overseas by unfit parents, whatever she was taught in that private school clearly paid off.

She’s a beautiful, clever, poised girl… when she needs to be.

She’s also a pouty, tempting brat goddess who will jump on your cock with her virgin pussy and call you daddy the second you let her.

I swallow the knot building in my throat, walk past her and push the conference room door open, then hold it for her to enter.

I like that the Japanese choose courteous bows instead of shaking hands, especially Pia’s, and although a couple of male eyes swing to her, they only linger for a fraction of a second—barely enough time for a growl to stir to life in my chest.

It’s a great start to two hours of aggressive negotiations over investment percentages and profit forecasts, with an hour’s break for sushi delivered by a top chef I’ve used and enjoyed in the past.

Then another hour before we’ve reached agreement.

I’m buzzing from the cut and thrust of it all, and from mentally calculating—this five-year deal alone will make us mid-ten figures.

“My intern will grab final copies, then all we need is the last round of signatures for our various attorneys to review and sign off, and we can get this show on the road.” I smile and turn to my intern. “Pia?”

“Yes, Mr. Villiers.” She hits the print button on the laptop she’d been making amendments on as the meeting unfolded and jumps to her feet.

I keep my eye on the younger client who hasn’t quite gotten the memo that staring at my intern isn’t on the menu. I hold it until she leaves the room, then turn that stare into a warning glare.

He gets the message after a long second and drops his.

Satisfied, I sit back, talk shop, and wait for Pia’s return.

When she does, I immediately spot that something’s…off.

The color in her cheekbones is a shade pinker, and she’s moving a little differently. I know because I’ve watched the way she moves when I shouldn’t have, for long enough now that I’m an expert.

I watch her navigate the long oval conference table, and my breath stutters. Her eyes are darker, too.

Did something happen? Another intern hitting on her when they think no one’s around?

I’m fixing to stand, to charge out there and rip heads off when she reaches me. And stumbles, dropping the papers on the desk.

My hands automatically jerk out to catch her, until I see she’s dropped something onto my lap.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Villiers. How clumsy of me.”

I don’t look up. Ican’t.

My entire attention is locked on the scrap of electric blue lace and satin lying across my crotch.

Something’s off, all right.

Her fucking panties.

Her fuckingsoakedpanties.

My eyes jerk up, and she’s staring at me, that mischievous sparkle and a whole load of nervousness in her eyes. The blood leaves my head with the force of a broken dam, and I have no earthly idea how I finish the meeting.

Somehow the panties are bunched into my fisted left hand as I walk my clients to the elevator, painfully aware of Pia walking one step behind me.

Without underwear.

And I’m not sure which emotion takes supremacy—rage or arousal.

But the second the elevator doors shut, I’m hooking an arm around her waist, pinning her to the wall next to the closed door. Wedging her up between my splayed thighs, my hard-as-steel cock pressed against her soft belly.

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