Raisa jabs a finger in the air in my general direction. "Go get it."
Naturally, the most obnoxious woman in New York looks like a supermodel. She has long legs and a slender body, with ebony hair that glistens beautifully and skin that glows even in lighting conditions that make me look sallow. According to the male interns, her dark eyes lend her an aura of mystery.
She storms up to me dressed in her Armani pantsuit, towering over me in a way that makes me feel like a munchkin, and taps one finger on my desk. "Why aren't you getting that file? Go. Now."
"Yes, Raisa. Right away."
I scurry off to the file room and retrieve the documents she wants. Everything is on the firm's servers, but lawyers seem to have a weird aversion to looking at files on their computers. They even take notes on pads of paper, instead of digital tablets. That leaves us paralegals and interns to brave the dusty, windowless file room to get whatever the attorneys need.
At least the maze of cubicles where we all work gets some sunlight, even if it's secondhand. The attorneys' offices rim the cubicle zone, and every office has large windows. The glass walls can be turned opaque by flipping a switch, but most of the time they're clear, giving the grunt workers a touch of natural light.
When I get back to my desk, I see Raisa's office door is shut. I swig my cold coffee, then approach her door. Just as I raise my hand to knock, the door swings inward.
"There you are," Raisa says, like she's been waiting hours for me to come back. It's been ten minutes. She snatches the file out of my hand. "Get in here. We need to talk."
A sour taste creeps into my mouth. She's about to fire me. On day three.
Cursed, for sure.
I dutifully walk into her office. When she shuts the door, I flinch. I feel like a peasant about to be guillotined, and the thump of the door was that giant blade lopping off someone else's head. Next up, me.
Raisa points at one of two chairs positioned in front of her desk. "Sit."
A man stands at the window, facing away from us. The sunshine burnishes his blond hair with streaks of molten gold.
I flump onto the chair.
Raisa settles onto her large executive chair behind the desk. "I've hired someone to replace Lucas Miller."
Though I've never met Lucas Miller, I've heard the office gossip about him. He handled corporate law before he quit suddenly a few days before I started my job here.
Raisa waves a hand negligently toward the man who still faces away from us. "Meet Lucas's replacement, Chance Dixon."
The man pivots on his heels to face me.
A tingle sweeps over my entire body, and I suddenly can't take in a whole breath. I stammer something resembling "hello," though what comes out of my mouth isn't actually a word.
The sexy Brit from the hotel stares at me, his face blank.
I stare right back at him, probably looking like a stupefied moron.
Raisa doesn't seem to notice our reactions to each other.
Damn, he looks even better than Friday night, dressed in a navy suit that brings out the color of his eyes and accentuates the panty-melting beauty of his body. It ought to be illegal to look so good.
His blank stare dissolves into a smile that curves his lips little by little, heating up with every millimeter his mouth moves. His gaze warms too, burning into me with the heat of the midday sun toasting my bare skin. One side of his mouth kinks upward more than the other in the sexiest lopsided smile I've ever seen.
My lips curl up at the corners, while my body rouses the way it had Friday night, readying for whatever this man wants to do to me.
We're in the office. With my boss. And I am getting more and more turned on just looking at Chance Dixon.
Still oblivious, Raisa motions for Chance to sit in the chair beside me.
I try not to stare anymore, but honestly, I only have so much willpower. When he passes by me, his ass is an arm's length from my face. I've never seen him naked, but I've had my leg strapped around him and felt those taut, powerful glutes.
He settles that perfect bottom onto the chair beside me, propping one ankle on the other knee.
Raisa smiles at him with all the flirtatiousness of a teenager, even batting her eyelashes. "I'm so pleased you've finally come home to our firm, where you belong." She aims her businesswoman smile at me. "Chance is my husband."