Page 93 of Money Reigns
Absolutely not.
I amnotgiving Warren Beaumont a fashion show.
But I want to know what he thinks.
Just one outfit.
Just a peek.
Just…
God, I’m so stupid.
I open the door and make the walk back to his office, palms sweating even though my outfit looks like it belongs on the cover of Forbes.
I knock this time.
A soft, single rap.
His voice comes from behind the door.
“Come in, little doe.”
Little doe?
The nickname hits like a brand.
I breathe in, steady, shaky and open the door.
He’s at his desk, leaned back, arms resting lazily on the chair’s arms like a king on a throne. But his eyes,icy, assessing, go molten the second they land on me.
A slow smile curves his mouth. Dangerous. Knowing.
“That’s the one,” he says simply.
My pulse kicks.
He doesn’t stand.
Just lifts two fingers and curls them. A quiet summons.
“Come here.”
I move. Against everything in me, I move.
He slides his chair back an inch as I stop in front of him.
“Spin.”
The command is soft. Velvet.
I hesitate, just long enough for my skin to prickle.
But I do it.
Slowly. Carefully. I turn. His eyes track every inch of movement like he’s memorizing my silhouette.
When I face him again, his gaze is darker. Fixed.
