Chapter 8

RULE #7: DON'T STARE TOO LONG AT YOUR NEW SECRETARY'S CLEAVAGE.

Musa

I was prepared for Precious to show up at my house in those same black boots I've seen her in twice now. I was prepared for her to be clumsy and nervous. I was even prepared for her to be late.

What I was not prepared for is her arriving five minutes early in a nearly see-through blouse and a black pencil skirt that makes my hands itch because of the way her ass fills it.

"Good morning," she says as she walks into my house at 8:55.

My eyes land on her deep red lipstick. Is she trying to mess with me?

"Morning," I grumble. Her heels click against the floor as she follows me to the cupboard in the entrance hall, where I show her to put her things.

"Jacket?"

"Oh," she stammers, starting to shrug out of a heavy coat. Putting a hand on her shoulder, I stop her and gently turn her around. With her back to me, I lift the coat from her small frame, letting my gaze linger on the soft skin at the back of her neck. After I hang it up, she turns around, and my eyes immediately drop to her chest.

I was wrong. The shirt isn't almost transparent… it's entirely transparent, and she is wearing a black lace bra underneath. What happened to the girl at the ice rink, or the one dressed in all black the other day? This feels like an ambush I wasn't ready for.

"Coffee?" I ask, because my mind seems to be stuck on one-word sentences.

"No, thank you."

"Come in then," I reply, placing a hand lightly at the small of her back and using the other to point toward my office.