Page 9 of The Billionaire's Assistant

These suits could hardly be compared to a uniform. “No, but this is not like—”

“This is a job. I’m providing you clothes to do it in. That’s all.”

“These clothes are—”

“What I would like you to wear.” Was he ever going to let me finish a sentence? He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you going to be this much trouble every day?”

I shook my head. “No, sir.”

“Good. I’ll expect you to wear these. I’ll have some shirts and ties delivered later today.”

“Really I—”

“What happened to doing whatever I ask?”

I couldn’t piss him off on the first day. “Nothing, sir. Thank you. The suit is…I don’t even have words for it.”

“Like I don’t have words for the way you look in it,” he muttered as he walked out the door. I stared after him. Had he actually said that? Or had I just imagined it? What the hell had I gotten myself into?

6

MILES

I’d left my door open on purpose so I could look out at Ben in the lobby. He was wearing the pinstripe suit I’d picked out for him with a lilac tie. I wanted to devour him.

For the past week, I’d gotten less than half my usual amount of work done, all because I couldn’t stop watching Ben.

I wondered how he would react if I brought him into my office and put him over the desk so I could work off some of this tension. I wasn’t ready to make that kind of move yet, though. I needed some more time to make sure I understood his real motives for being here.

Not that fucking the enemy wasn’t fun. I would enjoy him either way, but I preferred to know what I was getting into.

So far, Carter hadn’t found anything to indicate Ben had attempted to contact his family or share any sensitive information he’d been privy to, but I wasn’t taking chances. Hopefully, he wasn’t intending to sell me out. What I really wanted was for him to be here for completely innocent reasons, then I could defile that innocence.

My intercom buzzed. I cleared my throat before responding. “Yes, Benjamin.”

“Mr. Armentrout is here to see you, sir.”

“Send him in.” I didn’t like the expression on Carter’s face when he entered my office. I could tell he had bad news.

“What’s wrong?” I asked after he closed the door behind him.

“Check out these phone records.” He laid the papers on my desk.

“These are Ben’s?”

“Yes. I’m assuming you recognized his number. The number highlighted in yellow is his brother and the green highlight shows calls from his father.”

My pulse accelerated. There were calls from his brother almost daily for the last few weeks. “Fuck.”

“He’s clearly in close contact with his family,” Carter said.

“That doesn’t mean he’s giving them information.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it does raise the likelihood they are pushing him to.” He glanced toward the door, then back at me. “I still think the best thing to do is to let him go.”

I shut my head. “Not an option.”

“Miles—”

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