Knox
The elevator dings at and I step out in the lead, already tasting the control. Emma lags behind like she’s walking to her own execution, her heels clicking too loud against the marble. She’s got a navy pencil skirt on the one that curves over her ass just enough to remind me of what I buried myself in yesterday.
Her blouse is buttoned to the throat today. Cute. Like the armor’s gonna save her.
I don’t look back. I don’t have to. I can feel her eyes drilling a hole through my back, I can hear her heartbeat stumbling. Let it race.
“Morning, Mr. Knox,” the receptionist chirps. I give her a smile the one that makes her look worthy of my attention.
“Morning. Hold my calls for the next thirty. I’ve got a meeting.”
Emma stops dead in her tracks next to me. I don’t acknowledge her. In
