"Ex-husband," he corrects.
The lovely blush of desire that warmed my entire body snuffs out. Her ex-husband? She'd called him husband, no ex. Coupled with the way she batted her lashes at him, that implies she doesn't think of him as her former spouse, but as hers, period.
Fantastic. I had a quickie in an elevator with the ex-husband of my bitchy boss who hates me, and she wants him back. Does he want her back too? If he volunteered to work here, he must want to be close to her. Why did he seduce me the other night? A divorce lawyer who's a cheater. Doesn't that just figure.
Nope, my luck has not changed one bit.
Back in the hotel, I'd hoped his name, Chance, might be a good omen or something. Wrong. The dice got tossed, and I hit snake eyes.
Raisa waves her hand in the way I've already figured out means she's dismissing me. "Elena, you will work exclusively with Chance until I say otherwise. Do whatever he says. Chance, think of her as your slave."
I glance sideways at him.
He smirks at me while he tells my boss, "Thank you, Raisa. I've always wanted a slave of my own."
The boss lady is focused on the papers on her desk, ignoring us. Once she dismisses you, all that's left to do is walk out the door. I'd learned this about Raisa Volkov after two full days as her slave.
Now she's handing me over to Chance. Ashisslave. My body loves the idea, but my brain keeps warning me to watch out.
Chance opens the door for me as we exit Raisa's office. He lays a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the office that previously belonged to Lucas Miller. They must have changed the sign on the door early this morning, because it now says "Chance Dixon."
He holds the door open for me. "Slaves enter first."
I want to scowl at him, but I pull myself together and stay professional. "Thank you, Mr. Dixon."
"Call me Chance."
"Rather not. Sir." It's dumb, but I hope calling him mister and sir will put some kind of distance between us.
Yeah, I said it was dumb.
He shuts the door while I take a seat in front of his desk, then he sits down in the spiffy executive chair. The office is spacious, though not as big as Raisa's. This is her firm, after all. Still, Chance's office features large windows that catch the morning sun at the perfect angle to make his gorgeous face look even more beautiful. The rays of golden sunshine kiss his skin, spilling down his face, onto his throat.
"I had no idea you worked here," he says. "But I'm glad to see you. After the way you ran off---"
"No running. I walked. And you never called me, so you're the one who has explaining to do."
"You gave me the wrong number. I had a lovely conversation with the owner of an Italian deli, but he didn't know any Elena." Chance rocks his chair slowly, keeping his focus on me. "I wondered if you gave me the wrong number on purpose."
"I wouldn't do that. Sorry I got it wrong, but I was kind of, um, confused." I fidget in my chair, which seems to be made of pins and needles. Or maybe that sensation is a figment of my freaking-out mind. "After hearing you argue with somebody on the phone, I started to think I'd made a big mistake."
"Do you still feel that way? Because I don't. I wanted more time with you."
His voice is soothing and stimulating at the same time, an odd combination that compels me to relax. "I don't regret it."
"I'm glad." He sinks back in his chair, shoulders slumped, and rubs his eyes. "It was Raisa on the phone that night."
And she's still into him. That much is obvious.
Does he want to reconcile with her?
Chance drops his hand, fixing me with an earnest look. "I shouldn't have shagged you in an elevator. But you were the most enchanting, sexiest woman I'd ever seen, and I had to have you. I've never done anything of the sort before."
I shrug. "What's done is done. I'm your employee now, which means it's strictly business between us from this moment on. Agreed?"
He studies me, those sapphire eyes sparking in the sunlight. "I don't want only business with you, Elena."
I love the way he says my name in that delicious British accent, with that husky timbre in his voice. Though my body wants me to crawl across the desk and curl up on his lap, I straighten, clear my throat, and say, "Strictly business. Please. I need this job, and my boss is clearly still in love with you."