Dani Wade - His by Design

Knowing she’d been dismissed, Ziara retreated to the safety of the outer office, where Abigail waited with a kind smile and some lists.

“Thank you, Abigail.”

“No problem, sweetie. Just let me know if you have any questions.”

How about, Will I make it through this without losing my freakin’ mind? Or, Is everyone going to hate me before this show is over? But she said nothing, conscious for once of exactly how alone she was.

Walking through the doorway, she found Sloan leaning against her desk. Her stomach dropped to her toes and a flush suffused her cheeks. The guilt was probably glaring out from her downcast gaze and shifting feet.

Where was this guilt coming from? A shot of surprise jolted through her at the answer. The guilt didn’t stem from tattling like a four-year-old. That was the best thing for Eternity Designs...for now. She simply didn’t want to face him knowing she’d tried to get out of working with him. Her feet stuttered to stillness and she swallowed, praying her voice would work at this point. “May I help you with something, Mr. Creighton?”

Those bright blue eyes, so full of life earlier today, were now cold enough to freeze the devil himself in his tracks. His mouth crooked up on one side, his boyish good looks now brittle around the edges. Oh yeah, he knew what she was up to, and there was no defense against that knowledge.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

For some unknown reason, she couldn’t brush this moment aside with professionalism or tactful confusion. “I don’t know, either. You told me you understood my duties here.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Me, either.

Ziara struggled to return to that place where she was strictly a secretary performing an assigned task, but she couldn’t. Some kind of barrier had been breached with his touch earlier today, and she was very afraid there was no going back from it.

She had the distinct feeling he wouldn’t let her go back even if she tried. His next words confirmed her suspicions. “Too bad I can’t give you what you really deserve.”

“And what would that be?” she asked, though the naughty mischief melting the iceberg should have warned her she’d moved into dangerous territory.

“A spanking.”

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