Seducing powerful men into telling her all of their secrets is Scarlett Ambrose's specialty. Ace Hardwood is probably no exception.
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The gorgeous, confident and charismatic Scarlett Ambrose is perfect candidate to help Terrence Burke take down the...
"She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies."
~ Lord Byron
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Michael Adams looked absolutely baffled.
His boss wasn't the most open man, nor the most predictable. Ace Hardwood always had a mind of his own and an agenda that only he seemed to know. Having worked for him for many years, Michael had understood how best to serve his boss, how not to ask questions and how to behave around him.
Nothing had ever changed in that regard.
Until now.
He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the name of the caller.
Sure enough, it said Ace Hardwood. The man on the other end of the line even sounded like Ace Hardwood, but the things he had said most definitely did not seem like things Ace Hardwood would have said.
"Michael?" he heard his name, "Are you still there?"
Hand almost trembling, Michael pressed the phone to his ear again and cleared his throat.
"I'm here, sir."
"Good. So, you'll get it done."
Michael puffed out breath after breath, unsure of what to say. "But, sir."
"Yes?" Ace sounded completely calm.
"Are you sure that I didn't mishear you?"
"Perfectly sure, Michael."
Michael sputtered, much to the amusement of his boyfriend, who watched him from nearby. "F-f-f-f-f-fairy-lights?"
"You've got it, Michael. That and everything else I mentioned. Have it ready by six-thirty, would you?"
Michael ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Yeah, sure. Definitely, Mr. Hardwood."
"Good."
Michael blinked at his phone and looked at his boyfriend.
Nick raised his eyebrows, questioningly.
Michael blubbered for a few more moments before finally bursting out. "Ace Hardwood wants fairy-lights?"
*
Ace tried to hide his smile behind the file in his hand. The death glares that he was getting from the lovely woman seated in front of him didn't seem to deter his good humour.
In fact, they seemed to be the cause of his stifled laughter.
Lowering the file that hid his face a few inches, he looked at her again, only to purse his lips together in an effort not to burst out into laughter.
Scarlett was not pleased.
Underneath contracted eyebrows, her usually bright eyes were dark and flashed with anger. Her pretty pink lips were downturned as she frowned at her boss, whom she had, for the majority of the previous evening, been kissing.
