Page 9 of His Good Girl
Logan
“Mr. Carter?”
I look up at the lullaby voice, soft and gentle but with an underlying force that makes me desperately curious about whom it belongs to.
Pulling my glasses down and then removing them completely, I lean back in my chair and appraise the young woman with the damp blonde hair wrapped up in a neat bun, sparkling green eyes, sweet curves I could take in for days, dressed in a black skirt suit with a white blouse, open just slightly lower than would usually be appropriate in the workplace.
“Yes?”
Her gaze takes in my face. It’s apparent that she likes what she sees, which causes me to narrow my eyes in query.
Who is she?
“I’m Serena Wakefield. Your new assistant?”
The question in her voice has me intrigued. She seems unsure about that.
“Oh?”
She swallows and then licks her lips. “Uhm…my uncle…he…” She presses her lips together and exhales through her nose. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
Serena turns to leave, but there is no way on God’s green earth, I’m allowing that to happen. I want to look at her some more.
“Your uncle?” I ask sharply enough to stop her in her tracks.
Serena turns. “Quentin Livingston.”
“I see.” I chew the end of my glasses and straighten up in my chair. “Well, you are in the right place. Find Allison and get to work.”
Replacing my glasses, I turn back to the case file, deftly ignoring her before I ravage her. If I considered banging my assistant unprofessional prior to this moment, the rampant thoughts of tying up this delicate, curvy blonde creature with the bewitching eyes to rail her until she begs me for mercy, are downright forbidden. Quentin would crush my balls, and I quite like them intact.
Distancing myself from her is in both of our best interests. I would corrupt her, destroy her. She appears too young and innocent for that.
Trying to ignore the thought I had yesterday morning about needing someone different in my life than the purring, panting seductresses that I always seem to cross paths with, I hunch down, getting pissed off when she doesn’t move.
“Who?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Allison. Go out there. You can’t miss her.”
“Uhm, okay.”
In my peripheral vision, I see her turn and never let it be said that I didn’t have excellent hearing.
“Asshole,” she mutters under her breath as she marches off.
Muffling my snicker, I’m rendered speechless by the audacity of this woman. It’s surprising, refreshing when I’m used to everyone bowing down to me, and so hot, I feel my cock grow stiff.
The need to hear her call me that while I’m fucking her is clawing at me, but I shove it aside.
Forbidden.
Absolutely and irrefutably.
Grimacing at my case file, I glance up when Allison brings Serena back over to the desk outside. With a glare, Allison reaches in and closes my door, almost as if she were shutting it in my face. Clearly, Serena has been telling tales of what a dick I am.
Well, better she knows now, so she gets used to it. If she lasts the day, I’ll be surprised. It’s tough shit if she can’t hack it. Quentin should know me better by now. However, Quentin’s favor does come before my own need to drive people away, so they steer clear of me and my quirks. It’s best for everyone that way.
It seems like only moments pass, but it could possibly be longer when there is a firm knock on the door.
