The grey skirt did exactly what it was told to do.
Nadia walked into the building Monday morning with her chin up and her heart hammering, the pencil skirt hugging every curve, the same silk blouse she'd worn the first day he'd ever looked at her.
She told herself she'd chosen it for confidence. But she knew, in the hollow place beneath her ribs, that she'd chosen it for him.
The office was empty. Early, as always — he was a man who arrived before the sun, and she'd timed her entrance to the minute so that they'd be alone.
Adrian sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled, watching her come through the door like a man watching a bet come in.
"Close it," he said.
She did. Then she stood in the middle of his office, hands clasped, the way she'd stood a hundred times before, and waited.
He s
