“You know what I mean?” Miss Sutherland’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Don’t you hate when Hollywood turns books into movies, but then they strip away the best parts? I honestly can’t sign a deal with you unless you promise that won’t happen to me.”

“Miss Sutherland ...” I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “The chances of Hollywood taking your debut book, which is a goddamn cookbook filled with catfish recipes, are so fucking low that—”

“I’m sorry I’m so late.” The sound of Mya’s voice stopped me from saying another word.

Dressed in a short, black cocktail dress that exposed her long legs, she looked absolutely stunning. Her lips were painted in a bright, alluring red, and her hair was piled high on top of her head in a pretty bevy of loose curls.

She walked over to Miss Sutherland and shook her hand, and then she mouthed “Stop it” to me as she sat down.

“I think what Mr. Leighton is trying to say—” Mya faced Miss Sutherland, “is that we should focus on doing all we can in the cooking sphere for this book. Then we can discuss ideas for your next collection of recipes so we make sure your future catalogue with us is as strong as it can be.”

I stared at her and remained silent for the remainder of the meeting, appreciating how she smoothly steered the rest of the conversation.

By the time we were done, Miss Sutherland was signing the contract and wishing us both well. When we all stood up to leave the restaurant, I pressed my hand against the small of Mya’s back and noticed how she attempted not to react.

The second Miss Sutherland was tucked away in her cab, Mya looked up at me.

“You’re welcome.” She smirked.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” I said, looking her up and down once more. “You look pretty damn good to have been ‘sick’ for a week.”

She didn’t answer. She simply stared at me, and it took every ounce of restraint not to take her hand and pull her into my car for the night.

“Are you planning on coming to work tomorrow or are you keeping me in suspense?”

“I’m not sure yet. It depends on how I feel when I wake up, or if I want you to see even more of how much you put me through when you have to do everything yourself.” She held up her hand for the town car and he pulled right in front. “But I must say, I’m happy you finally said those two precious words to me in regards to my work.”

“What two words?”

“Thank you.”

I said nothing. I just watched as her driver opened the back door and motioned for her to get inside.

I slid inside next to her before he could shut the door.

“What the—” She buckled her seatbelt. “What are you doing?”

“Driver, roll up the partition, please.” I waited for the driver to give us some privacy. “Mya London, do you really think that because we’ve fucked, I won’t fire you?”

“Michael Leighton,” she said, mocking me. “I know you won’t fire me and it has nothing to do with the fact that we’ve slept together.”

“We haven’t ‘slept together’, we’ve fucked.”

“Fine.” She lowered her voice. “Fucked. But I know you wouldn’t dare fire me.”

“Would you like to bet?”

“Not with a man who knows that I’m the best damn assistant he’s ever had.”

I smiled, unable to come up with a rebuttal for that. Before I could fire back, the driver’s voice came over the intercom.

“Miss London, are you still going to the AMC in Times Square?”

“Yes, Archer. Thank you.”

I shut off the speaker button. “What’s at the AMC in Times Square?”

“I have a date with a complete and utter gentleman.” She looked away from me, as if she was somewhat embarrassed. “It was set up weeks ago. I didn’t want to be rude and cancel at the last minute.”

“What’s his name?”

“None of your business.” She turned to face me again. “And unless you want to be a third wheel, are you going to have Archer take you back to your Jaguar while we’re in the movies? We’re going to need the car for dinner later, and no offense, but you’re not good dinner company.”

“What’s his name?” I repeated.

“Taylor,” she said. “Would you like to know where he works and how old he is, too?”

“I would. Tell me.”

“He’s an analyst for ABC studios, and he’s twenty-seven. Happy?”

“He’s too young for you,” I said. “And at that age he doesn’t have any real rank in that company. You can do better than that.”

“You’re referring to yourself?”

“No, I’m the best,” I said. “But you can at least do better until you realize that.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, but she didn’t say anything further.

“And if this is the guy from the email with the subject heading, ‘It’s Been a Week and He Hasn’t Called or Texted Me at All’, then you probably already know I’m right. No man in his right mind would wait a week to call you, unless he was your boss, that is.”

Her cheeks turned bright red and her jaw dropped.

“We’re here, Miss London,” her driver said, pulling in front of the theater.

Mya unbuckled her seatbelt and waited for him to open the door.

I walked ahead and held the door to the theater for her, following her as she walked toward the ticket counter.

“I’m only picking up two tickets,” she said to me. “You’re not really going to follow us into the theater are you?”

“No, but I’ll wait until he actually appears, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind.”

“Tough shit.”

“Fine.” She picked up her tickets from the clerk and I followed her to a couch in one of the theater’s private lounges. She pulled her phone out of her purse and smiled at the screen. “He says he’s in traffic but he’ll be here in twenty minutes. I’ll be sure to tell you all about our night at work tomorrow, since you’re so concerned.”

“I’m not concerned at all, but thank you for confirming that you’re coming to work tomorrow.”

“You’re not worried he’ll compare to you?”

“We’ve discussed this. No one compares to me.” I smiled. “And you know that. You also know that you have no desire to fuck him tonight because I’m willing to bet you’re still thinking about fucking me. This is either a pointless date you’re too scared to cancel, a ploy to make me jealous, or both.”

She blushed and looked down at her phone.

Fifteen minutes passed and she didn’t look up again. She simply refreshed her phone’s screen again and again.

I looked at my watch. The movie was due to start in ten minutes and her date was a no-show.

Her phone suddenly buzzed in her lap and she smiled, tapping the screen. She held it up to her face, her smile fading by the second.

She typed a few words, and then she looked at me. “He said something came up so.... Okay. You can go ahead and make me feel like shit now. I’ve missed it at work, so now you can apply it to my personal life, I guess.”