“Right,” I answer, think for a moment, and then get up to fetch the document that my legal team had delivered to me earlier. “This is the contract you had sent me. I took out the clause of me having to address you as ‘Your Highness’ and my lawyers changed a thing or two and added an NDA, but it’s pretty much what you imagined. Give it a read and then sign it to make our deal official.”

  I take the plates back into the kitchen and start a fire in the fireplace. We both take a seat in the rocking chairs in front of it. While Sienna reads, I pretend to be staring at my phone when really I am just staring at her. I didn’t plan to do that either, it also just sort of happens. How could anyone not stare at someone like Sienna de la Vega when they get the chance?

  By the time she finishes, I’ve probably undressed her a hundred times over in my mind. I have imagined what it would be like to grab her ass and pull her against me. I have imagined what it would sound like having her moan my name. I have imagined what it would feel like to make her come underneath me.

  And it’s terrible. It’s a terrible idea. I have to remind myself of what happened the last time we fucked. I have to remind myself of my own rule, of the reason why I never date anyone twice. I have to stop thinking of her in that way.

  She’s just a pawn in my game. An employee like all the others. Sort of.

  Sienna hands the document back to me and confirms that my plan is well underway. The board will be pleased by this. The airport scandal has already quieted down a little and, with today’s TV appearance, should be taken care of, so I will have a chance to toy with Sienna for the coming week.

  “It’s weird,” she says and leans back as the fire gently cracks before us. “In the last couple of days, you have collected trash for the environment, donated ten million dollars for public schools, and not kicked any puppies. It’s almost like you’re… human.”

  “I don’t kick puppies,” I explain as my rocking chair swings back and forth smoothly. “I’m rich. Rich people kick baby lions instead.”

  Sienna starts laughing so hard it turns into a cough. For a moment, I worry I might have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on her to save her from her own saliva. Once she has calmed down, she ruffles through her hair and takes a deep breath.

  “Please don’t do that again,” she wheezes, “or I’ll have to call the police.”

  “What are the charges now?” I ask while thinking back to a couple of days ago.

  “Not staying in character, obviously. We can’t have that.” She looks over at me and I notice how she gets stuck on my lips. The flames from the fireplace sway in her eyes and make them glow even more than they usually do.

  I can’t help but smirk. I know that look. It’s the same one I am trying to hide from her, the same one I am trying not to have in the first place.

  “You’re supposed to be the grumpy one here. If you start making jokes, I’ll have to start scowling at things and my face just isn’t made for that.” Sienna draws her eyebrows into one line and adds a pouty expression.

  “What’s that supposed to be? That’s not how you scowl.”

  “I know. That’s how you scowl.”

  I laugh. “You look like a duck trying to win a Grumpy-Cat-look-alike-competition… and you’re losing.”

  Her scowl vanishes as fast as it had come and we both have to laugh. Which, of course, is not advisable at all, so I try to stop right away.

  Unless… maybe… this could be part of my plan as well.

  Making her spend more time with me was the first step, but what if she actually had a good time doing it?

  I am sure she would hate that even more. Just like right now, she’s trying hard not to allow herself to have a good time with me, the embodiment of everything that is wrong with this world, as she put it. Once she actually enjoys it, it will hurt even more when I deliver my revenge.

  My watch says it’s almost 1 AM. I clear my throat and consider my next step. “So, it’s getting pretty late and we have to work tomorrow morning. If you prefer, Miles can take you home right now, or you can stay in the guest room and catch a ride with me tomorrow morning.”

  Sienna sits up straight when she hears the time. “Is it really that late?” she asks and sinks back down. “Damn it, I already didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

  “It’s okay. You can just stay here,” I assert nonchalantly and get up.

  “But I need clothes for tomorrow.”

  “That’s okay too. Come on.”

  “No, it’s not okay. I can’t put this on again. Not on my first day, and I doubt your T-Rex costume would be appropriate office attire.”

  I help Sienna up and lead her to the master bedroom on the first floor. “You can just wear my grandma’s clothes. She won’t mind,” I explain when we get there. I open the door to the adjoining room and watch as her eyes grow bigger. To be fair, the contents would put most designer boutiques to shame.

  Sienna is at a loss for words when she sees all the dresses and shoes and bags. At least for a bit. “And all of this is second hand, so I would only need to feel half as guilty about wearing something that costs more than you could charge for a night of stripping?” she finally asks.

  “Pick whatever you want. Keep it after. Most of it isn’t even my size and my stripping clients prefer other outfits.”

  “Yeah, I can’t keep your grandma’s clothes, but I might find something I can borrow for work tomorrow.” She tiptoes into the rows of fabric. “May I ask: what was her name?”

  “Margaux. She was German with French heritage.” I lean against the door frame and cross my arms, watching Sienna. “I think she would have liked you.”

  Sienna looks at me with a questioning expression.

  “She had the most awful taste in people,” I add, so my statement makes sense to her.

  It’s true though. Oma was fond of people like Sienna. Strong people, people who could stand up for themselves, people with a backbone, even if a severe case of scoliosis might lead them astray once in a while.

  My guest walks towards me with a smile. She’s just inches away from me and for whatever reason, she lets her hand glide over my own.

  For a moment, I have the urge to grab her, tear those clothes off her tight little body and do to her again what I have been imagining ever since I first saw her.

  “If she liked terrible people, then she must have really loved you,” she states quietly, her eyes locked onto mine.

  We both swallow hard and when I realize what is happening, I take a step back. Sienna does the same. My new plan might be to make her like me, but this would be a step too far… probably.

  “Get some sleep,” I rasp and reach for the door handle. “The bathroom is behind that door. Everything you might need should be there.” I observe as she crosses her arms and makes her boobs pop even more than they already do. It makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. “Breakfast at 8 AM. We leave for work at 9.” I step out, close the door and look down at myself and my duplicitous dick. It doesn’t take much for him these days. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I say to him and shake my head. It’s not an option.

  A second later, the door swings open and it takes every last bit of strength not to pin Sienna against it with my entire body.

  “I’d like what?” she asks almost innocently, fluttering with those captivating eyes of her.

  21

  SIENNA

  When I lay down in bed, I’m worried I might get stuck on Ryker F(uck Me) Grayson’s eyes, but I don’t. They’re nice, but definitely not nice enough to keep me from my much-needed rest. Of course, now I am thinking of them again. Of how that Fuck Me in them isn’t an ask but a command, the way they lure you in and force you to take your guard down, the way they hypnotize you and turn you into pudding… if you’re not careful.

  Which I was. After I heard him talking outside the door and checked to see what was going on, and he grumbled in that familiar (and equally annoying, seductive) fashion, I wished him a good night and locked the door. Twice. I washed up and went to bed where I am still lying now. The watch on my phone says 3:33 AM. Great, so I made it like two hours without thinking of him. Kind of.

  Determined to not be that idiot, I turn around and will myself to sleep. All of this is about willpower.

  First, willing myself not to murder him.

  Then, willing myself not to kiss him.

  Now, willing myself not to succumb to my lowly cravings.

  I just have to will myself to stick this out for as long as I can.

  For Robyn.

  When my alarm clock goes off, I am already awake. I did sleep. Intermittently. Which I am sure is some kind of new-age health trend that’s supposed to be good for you. And I do feel fine, so I get up, take a shower, brush my teeth and put on a pair of yoga pants. I pack another outfit I picked out last night that, I’d like to think, Ryker would approve of, even though it doesn’t really matter because I think I look outstanding in it.

  It’s 6:30 AM when I walk down the stairs and while I would like for Ryker to make me breakfast, I certainly don’t want to go to work with him. I’d rather use the rest of my remaining money to call for a cab.

  The house is still quiet when I sneak down the stairs. I stop to look at some photographs of Ryker and his brothers. There’s a cute one of him in his early twenties, I assume. He’s wearing blue jeans, a white shirt, a leather jacket, and hair that makes him look like he just got electrocuted by his own sick guitar solo. It’s cute, so I take it and slip it into my bag. I am not entirely sure why I do it. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation.

  When I turn a corner down by the stairs, I almost miss the person sitting at the counter sipping coffee. My quiet shriek startles him. Miles spits the liquid back into his cup. “So sorry,” he apologizes. “Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

  “Oh, no, you didn’t. Sorry, for a moment I was worried you were someone else.”

  He pushes the newspaper away and turns towards me. “You look like you’re headed out. Can I take you anywhere?”

  “That’s okay. You probably gotta drive Mr. Lemonface later.”

  Without a word, Miles gets up, opens a door in the kitchen and waits for me to enter. I follow his lead and soon find myself in the garage. There’s the limousine that I already know, a small electric vehicle that looks like it might have belonged to Ryker’s grandma and a vintage sports car that might have been his grandpa’s.

  “He’d murder me if I didn’t drive you.” Miles opens the passenger door for me to get in. “And by murder, I mean he’d have a very stern talk with me, and then he’d eat kimchi straight from the jar while sitting in the passenger seat because he knows how I hate the smell.”

  “What a petty bastard,” I say with a smile and climb in. I hate finding out about stuff like this. It sounds like something I would do and we’re really nothing alike. Or at least almost nothing alike.

  The drive is quite pleasant. Miles tells me about his former job, his love of books, and the date he is planning for Megan, aka the Baddest Bitch who is not going out with the other guy anymore. We make it to the headquarter of Grayson Holdings with no issue. Through the parking garage, I enter the office building. Miles drives off again and I am ready for my new morning workout. This isn’t the highest skyscraper in the city but it is 68 floors nonetheless. Ryker’s office is on the very top. So in my new grandma yoga pants, I begin the climb. It’s shortly after 7 AM and I am confident I should make it to the top before Ryker gets here.

  The first ten floors go by quickly, even though having to carry a bag with my new outfit does not help. By floor 22, I am cursing my lack of regular workout. On floor 24, I discover the familiar logo of Grayson Holdings. Needing a break, I stop there and take a look inside the office. A confused woman at reception takes pity on me and orders me to rest there for a while. She’s the office manager for the HR department of Grayson Holdings. I use the chance to chat with her for a while about herself, her work and, of course, her boss. After a refreshment and brief explanation that I am not a fan of elevators, I am back to climbing Ryker’s tower.

  I spot another Grayson Holdings logo on floor 42 where another woman is already waiting for me with a towel and some chill lemonade. Apparently, my new friend down in HR had warned her to look out for me. Both of them have the same expression on their face when they find out that I am working directly with their boss’s boss. It’s something between pity and envy. I leave to continue my ascend after a few cramps and a nice pep talk.

  It’s 8:24 AM when I finally arrive on the 68th floor. A familiar smile receives me with a warm welcome. It’s Barbara, Ryker’s secretary, personal assistant, anything else he might require, and avid hater of Awkward Pause’s show host. She looks absolutely stunning today.

  “I’d understand if you were to quit right away,” she says and takes my bag.

  “And give him the satisfaction?” I reply, dab the sweat on my forehead and then bend down to re-tie the strings of my shoes.

  Right at that moment, the elevator behind us opens and the devil himself appears. His usual Grump Face turns even grumpier when he sees me. His eyes rest on my ass for a moment before he steps out of the elevator and greets Barbara.

  “Miss de la Vega,” he says without looking at me, “my office. Now.”

  Both of us follow and Barbara starts to brief him on his day. The rest of the employees, who seem to be gathered around someone’s desk, look at the three of us when we enter, and then quickly avert their gazes when Ryker looks their way. It’s like in a movie where people suddenly start looking at the sky when being caught staring.

  We go up a flight of stairs that takes us to the very top floor of the building. Barbara closes the door to Ryker’s office behind us. The view from up here is amazing and if my thighs weren’t on fire, I could probably enjoy it.

  “That would be all for now,” he interrupts his assistant and waits for her to leave.

  “Rude,” I say once she is gone as I have a look around his office.

  “Where were you this morning?” he asks, obviously trying not to sound annoyed.

  I stand in front of a wall with awards and memorabilia when I discover the same mechanism he has installed in his house. When I pull the lever, a hidden door opens and reveals a bathroom.

  “How do you do that?” he asks a little stunned.

  “Well, you gotta hide them better.” The door slides open easily. “Is this a shower?” I inquire and step inside. “Outstanding. You said work starts at 9, right? That means I have half an hour left.”

  Before Ryker can answer, I close the door behind me. It’s a nice bathroom. Of course, it is. It’s even nicer if you have a bit of an exhibitionist kink because there’s a rather large window front that, I assume, lets everyone take a peek at you when you’re showering. Overlooking the entire city, I take the fanciest shower of my life. My legs are already aching and I know that tomorrow I will have to get here even earlier to make it on time, but at least I’ll be in fantastic shape once I get fired.

  When I am done, I put on my borrowed outfit and step back into my client’s office. He’s lounging in his chair, his legs propped up on his desk and his eyes trained on me as if he has been sitting there like this for the last 29 minutes.

  “8:59 AM,” I announce, and take a seat in a leather chair opposite of him. “Not a minute too late. I’d love to do a base jump from up here. I mean, I don’t know how to do that and I’d probably die, but doesn’t it sound exciting?”

  “Why are you coming to work all sweaty in yoga pants when you insisted you couldn’t wear your old clothes yesterday?”

  I think about telling him the truth about me and one of the most murderous machines to ever exist, but decide not to. There’d be no use in giving him more fodder to torture me with. “All part of the job,” I claim. “I did some research into your image amongst your employees. Figured it’d be a good indicator of the kind of boss you are. The workout clothes were part of my cover. As was taking the stairs all the way up here.”

  “Right,” he grunts. “And?” Ryker crosses his arms and furrows his brows, which makes him look quite serious.

  “Did you know they have a group chat to alarm everyone in case you leave your office?”

  “They do?” he asks with disinterest.

  “No, I just made that up, but maybe I should introduce the idea in order to improve morale around here.”

  “Is morale that low?”

  I get out of the chair and walk around to keep him from staring into my eyes because if he continues, I’m going to need another shower. “Also, no. Surprisingly, everyone seems to enjoy working here. At least that’s what I’ve gathered from my brief interactions with the few people I’ve met so far. Your whole boss-grinch-charade seems to work to your advantage. It must have created some sort of camaraderie among your employees. They might be a little scared of you, but they respect you and your work, and at first glance, they seem to take pride in working here. They did feel quite bad for me though when I told them I’d work directly with you, which makes me think they are very kind people.” I look for my notebook that I keep in my purse. “Anyway, I should get a move on.”

  “With what?” Ryker’s eyes still haven’t stopped staring.

  It’s not the staring that’s bothering me, it’s the arousal that comes with it. “You. I mean your image. That’s why you hired me, no? To fix your image?”

  “Oh, that. Right.”

  “Yeah, so I’ll need an office where I can set up. I’ll do a proper analysis of the status quo, come up with a plan, define some realistic goals, and then we can discuss which steps to take in order to reach them. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.” I imagine squishing Ryker’s dumb grump face with both my hands as if squeezing a lemon. Miles would appreciate the imagery.

  He presses a button, and a second later, Barbara comes flying through the doors. “What can I do for you, Mr. Grayson?”

  She really seems like a great secretary. Maybe a little too eager, but that’s probably the reason she excels at her job.

  “A desk, a chair, a laptop, writing utensils,” he looks over at me with those forbidden eyes of his, “anything else you might require?”