Page 47 of Money Reigns
“Come to my office.”
She blinks. “A new task?”
“Cross-check these vendor invoices,” I say, dropping a thick folder on her desk. “I want to know who’s bleeding me dry.”
“You’re being bled dry?” she says, brows lifting. “Withyournet worth?”
My gaze sharpens. My voice drops.
“Researching me again, Olivia?”
I want to see how far she’ll go. How deep she’s already dug.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blush.
She just smiles, soft, smug,wicked.
“No. I just do my job. If I’m going to keep this place afloat, I have to know how much water’s in the boat, right?”
She watches me a beat longer than necessary, then closes her laptop and begins gathering her things, notebook, phone. Her movements are smooth, efficient, but I still see it. The awareness. The way she straightens her spine just a touch. The way she smooths her skirt before standing.
She knows what walking into my office means:Get ready to work.
Good girl.
She follows me down the hall without another word. Heels tapping a beat I already know by heart.
She walks like a song I’ve memorized. One only I get to hear.
Once inside, I don’t move toward my desk.
She goes to sit in the chair across like always.
Instead, I pull my chair back and nod toward it. “Sit.”
Her brows lift. “Inyourchair?”
“I have a task for you,” I say mildly. “You’ll need the monitor.”
She hesitates, but only for a second.
Then she rounds the desk and sits.
And fuck if it doesn’t do something to me, a twist low in my gut, a possessive thrum in my chest.
Seeing her there, where no one else iseverallowed to be. My space. My command post. And she just perches like shebelongs.
I move behind her, standing close enough to feel the heat off her skin. I don’t speak.
I watch.
She moves the mouse. Eyes flicking to the monitor as it flashes on.
A few loose strands of hair fall down her neck. I lean in slightly, breathing in the scent of the perfume I bought her.
She’s wearing it.
Like my own personal brand.
