"Are you leaving, Ms. West?" he asks and I'd love to smack that knowing grin from his lips. He knows exactly what Mark and I did tonight. Hell, Mark probably told him.
"Yes, I am," I huff instead and squeeze past him.
He catches up to me at the elevator. "I'll escort you home."
"You'll do no such thing," I snap, pressing the elevator button over and over like it's done me some wrong.
"Mr. Cross' orders. I'm to see you safely home." There's a hint of an accent in his voice like he's foreign. French maybe.
"I don't follow his orders." That's a lie, and my stomach floods with warmth at the ease with which I stripped for him, how I obediently let him tie me up, use me. But I'm not that woman. Not really.
"All the same. I have to follow them," the man replies as the elevator arrives. He h
