Page 23 of The Bad Girl
Chapter 10
Nadine
I flick on the light switch, flooding the room with a warm glow.
As directed, I came into the office a whole fifteen minutes late in order to get deeper into character, though it’s unlikely anyone will notice. Harry meanders into the office somewhere around noon, and as long as I get Maxwell up by eight, he doesn’t really care.
I set a box of donut holes on a counter and look at myself in one of the office’s many mirrors. Canary-yellow dress with a daisy pattern embellished with bright red accent pieces. Nothing too crazy, but there’s a rebellious flare.
My lipstick is bright red to match my thin, shiny belt and red ankle booties. It’s a great look that belongs on someone far more interesting than myself.
I do my morning routine before I enter Maxwell’s penthouse at nine, a whole hour later than every other day of the week because he likes to sleep in a little after the weekend. Because I’m a hair late, I’m anxious, though I know I have nothing to worry about.
I fill a breakfast tray with his favorites and head on into Maxwell’s bedroom. I set the tray on his nightstand and get to work on his wardrobe for the next few days.
Today, he’ll be meeting with someone he could potentially be collaborating with, someone whose name is blacked out on the schedule, which means they’re famous. I pull out a light-grey pants and blazer set and couple it with a stark-white undershirt. Then I throw together his evening attire, which consists of a three-piece suit. I like to be a day ahead during the week, so I put together his Tuesday outfit as well, which is a beige suit that will be perfect for the older audience at a luncheon he’ll be attending. Even though it’s only Monday, I also take the liberty of pulling out a powder-blue polo and khaki shorts for him to wear on Thursday when he’s boating with some high-profile money men.
Anything notable I like to plan for.
When I’m done going through his closet, I bring out today’s outfit and hang it from a hook near the door, and as I turn to leave, I see Maxwell, twisting in bed, the sheets revealing a hint of his chiseled abs.
Turn away—turn away! You don’t want to be caught ogling your boss!
Prim and proper be damned—Maxwell Stryder is SEXY!
Maxwell may not have tattoos and is devoid of all the bad choices I usually crave in a man, but that doesn’t mean I’m immune to his sex appeal.
His toned torso flexes, and my mouth begins to salivate. I remember the first time I’d glimpsed his flesh, the sheet was pulled all the way down to his waist, revealing a hint of buttocks. It damn near paralyzed me. But it’s not just his chords of muscle and perfectly proportioned form that makes him so sexy.
Maxwell’s casualness is just as captivating. He’s never stiff, his relaxed stances and mannerisms looking completely natural. His smile is easy, and he has this gait when he walks that you just can’t take your eyes off of. It’s a meandering saunter that gets him where he needs to go but is never rushed or forced.
Somehow, these traits transcend into the bedroom. He lays, relaxed, never tense, as though he’s been lying awake in bed for hours. When he does stretch, it’s never rushed or panicked. No matter how busy his schedule is, it never shows in his mannerisms.
“What’s on the schedule today?” Maxwell asks, rolling over and gazing at me with his icy-blue eyes.
“A collaboration.”
He reaches for his phone, his eyes scanning the screen. “It looks like our coffee date got some attention.”
“They did a great job with the photoshop.”
“As they should with how much I pay them. There’s hardly any mention of you in the comments, which works well with what we’re trying to accomplish.” His finger swipes and taps and pinches until his eyes draw into a glare. “Holy fuck!”
“What is it?”
“Stacey’s been arrested.”
Arrested?
He rises from bed, and I divert my gaze from his naked form. It takes him less than a minute to pull on lounging pants and a robe, making himself a hair more presentable.
“Follow me,” he says, and he leads me into his cavernous bathroom.
Maxwell goes about his morning routine: brushing, flossing, shaving, all while I stand off to the side, waiting for his instruction.
“This isn’t surprising. Stacey’s been on my radar before. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I knew to call her when you came to me for help. HR’s been on my ass for a while, begging me to let them fire her.”
“What did she do?”
