Page 51 of Money Reigns
Her brows lift slightly. “Yes, for the… lunch?”
I nod once.
“Yes, Olivia,” I confirm. “Lunch.”
Her name tastes like a promise I haven’t made yet.
I turn and walk away before I let myself say what I really want.
Before Idowhat I really want.
She followed without thinking today.
She came in on time.
She called me by name.
She took the sip.
She’slearning.
And I’m losing my goddamn mind.
I make it back to my office and immediately pull up the feed.
It flickers to life, clear picture, as it should be. Wesley’s newest piece of work.
There she is.
At her desk, shoulders tight with focus, lips pursed in that way she does when she’s trying to act unfazed. She sips the coffee I brought her, slow like it’s some casual habit, not a command she followed without realizing.
My jaw ticks.
She doesn’t know what she just told me about herself. What she justgaveme.
A map. A rhythm. A window.
I watch her drag her fingers down the side of the cup. Thumb tapping once. Then twice. Nervous energy. A tell.
She has no idea I’m watching, and yet still—she’sperforming.Still trying to be good,dogood work.
For me.
I lean back in my chair, one elbow hooked over the armrest, the other hand curled tight around my coffee. I don’t taste it. Don’t care. Not when I’m locked on her.
She shifts in her seat. Her skirt rides just slightly higher.
I shouldn’t notice.
But I do.
Fuck, I notice everything about her.
The way she crosses her legs, ankles tight, as if modesty matters when I’ve already seen her in my head a dozen ways, moaning my name. Not Mr. Beaumont. Not Warren. JustWar—like a prayer. Like a curse.
She pulls out her pen and starts scribbling in the margins of a printout.
Still using the cheap one.
