5. Gabriel
GAbrIEL
It takes every ounce of my control to wrench my gaze away from the photos.
There are several of them—large, glossy prints that reveal the miles of soft skin and gorgeous curves that our quiet executive assistant keeps hidden beneath her professional armor.
In the office, Maeve is a subtle temptation, a spark of fire in a world of cool professionalism.
In these photos, dressed in scraps of black lace that cling to her curves, with her fiery hair falling around her shoulders and her gaze a defiant mix of innocence and challenge, she’s pure, unadulterated sin.
“They aren’t the Lanstock files,” Maeve repeats from the doorway.
Her cheeks are flushed, but her gaze is steady when our eyes meet, almost defiant. It ignites something primal inside me. I clear my throat, forcing a slow, deliberate breath before she can see just how much these photos have affected me.
“I can see that.” I slide the pictures back into the envelope, the slick paper feeling like a brand against my fingertips. “Any particular reason these were waiting for me on your desk, then?”
Maeve’s flush deepens, but she doesn’t break eye contact. “They weren’t waiting for you. They were waiting for me.”
“You realize how unprofessional it is to have these sorts of photos sent to your place of work?” I ask, keeping my voice stern. It’s either that or pin her against the door and show her exactly how little I care about professionalism right now.
“Yes, I know, sir.” Maeve rarely calls any of us ‘sir,’ and the word, delivered in her soft, lilting voice, goes straight to my cock. “I shouldn’t have done it, but I was… excited to get them.”
Excited. The word hangs in the air between us, charged and dangerous. I remember the expression on her face in one of the photos—a soft, breathless smile, her eyes half-closed in what looked like pleasure. Fuck, I’d like to be the reason for that expression.
Damn it. Get a fucking grip, man.
I questioned Ford’s judgment when he first hired her.
I worried it was a decision made out of pity for his younger brother’s ex.
She was all soft curves and earnest eyes, a woman who, I suspected, still believed in fairytale romance.
This sweet little bird, petit oiseau doux, didn’t seem like the type cut out for handling just one of us, never mind all three.
But Maeve has proven herself. She’s the best assistant we’ve ever had, managing our chaotic lives and business endeavors with a competence that borders on infuriating. Because it makes her indispensable. And because I can’t have her while she’s my employee. That’s a line I would never cross.
I’m sure someday she’ll find herself a man who will realize what a catch she is and give her the romance she craves, and I’ll just have to refrain from punching the guy.
Not that I’ve really let myself think about Maeve sexually. It’s been hard to avoid it, when she’s working together with me all day just about every day, but I’ve managed. Even though sometimes I’ve flirted with her more than I should have.
That’s going to be impossible now. I know what she looks like underneath the cute little outfits she wears, and I can’t unsee it. Those images are burned into my mind like a brand.
I stalk toward her, the envelope in my hand, practically burning my fingers as I hold it.
Maeve arches a brow at me as I approach, not budging an inch. Not that she ever does. The very first time she stood up to me was the moment when I knew Ford made the right call by hiring her.
Now that she’s been working at Meridian for two years, she’s even less intimidated by me than she was when she first started.
She banters with us. She pushes back. She might not realize it, but she’s made this sterile, high-stakes office feel more alive.
It’s a relief to finally have someone around who isn’t afraid of me.
I hold the envelope out to her, even though the last thing I want to do is relinquish it. “What you do on your own time is your business, petit oiseau doux . But it needs to stay in your personal life. Separation of church and state, and all of that.”
She nods, her breath quickening just slightly. “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Are you sure? Because you don’t seem all that sorry.” The words are out before I can stop them, a low, provocative murmur.
“Because I’m not getting down on my knees to beg for your gracious mercy?” Maeve shoots back. “I know you hate being reminded of this, but you’re just a man, Gabriel. Not a king.”
I have to bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to hold back a rough laugh. Fucking hell, I love her fire.
“We can skip you getting on your knees this time,” I tell her, even as the image of her doing just that filters through my mind, making my voice come out a little gruffer than I intended. “But clearly, I need to be giving you more work to do. If you have enough time to accept personal packages…”
“If this is your way of getting me to stay late tonight, it won’t work.” Maeve plucks the envelope from my hand, her fingers brushing mine. A bolt of electricity shoots up my arm.
Fuck. Between the pictures I just saw and banter that feels a little too loaded, I really need to get my shit back together. And the only way for that to happen is to put the walls of our professional relationship back up, thicker and higher than before.
“We’ll see about that,” I say with a tight smile, then reach back to the desk and grab a stack of paperwork, passing it over. “I need all this finished by the end of the day.”
Maeve glares at me, her full lips pressing together, but she takes the stack without a word. She looks like she wants to say something else—maybe to tell me off for dumping extra work on her just because she got sexy photos of herself sent to the office—but instead, she just turns and strides away.
Try as I might, I can’t resist watching her hips sway and the curve of her ass in that skirt as she goes.
Jesus . I don’t know how I’m going to keep her out of the naughtiest corners of my mind after this.