Page 10 of The Devil of Downtown

As soon as the elevator doors close, I let out a ragged breath, mouthingSorry, Sloane,up to the ceiling. I knew I would be out of my depth today, but what I didn’t bank on washim.How his stare slides over my skin like the lightest touch.

Creative, free-spirited is usually my type. Not billionaires who radiate control and danger. Not men who make the threat of punishment seem like temptation.

With Sloane’s guidance, the rest of the day flies by as I get to grips with the Bexley report and the million other items on his to-do list. After today, I never want to hear the name Bexley again. And after Dane’s done with them, I probably never will.

Without Dane hovering, it’s easier to talk to Sloane. I thought dance was exhausting, but this is a whole other form of mental tiredness. I can’t wait to face-plant into my bed this evening and forget Dane Black ever existed. My heart drops when Dane reappears about the time everyone else is getting ready to go home, looking as though he’s only just getting started. He’s with Maria Hamel, the head of PR. A vamp beauty with blood-red lips and alabaster skin so pale she looks one sniff away from sinking her fangs into my neck. They remain holed up in his office for what seems like hours. Every so often, her irritating laugh cuts through the now deserted office. What are they even laughing about? Probably reminiscing about all the people they’ve decimated in the last twenty-four hours.

I’m slumped at my desk, fingers aching from typing, brain fried, wondering if I’ll ever be allowed home again when he finally appears in the doorway. His jacket’s gone, tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms, his hair falling over his forehead a little.

Maria struts out, tossing him a fawning smile, which he reciprocates. Who knew he could actually smile? She flashes me a condescending smirk as she glides by, red stilettos clawing through the plush carpet. I try my hardest not to react, but an involuntary eye roll forms, which I quickly play off as if I have something in my eye. I bury my head behind my desk monitor, hammering my keyboard like I’m impossibly busy, ignoring the way my heart has kicked up a notch simply from his proximity.

Eventually, I risk a glance around the edge of the screen. He’s still there, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, twisted amusement crinkling the corner of his eyes—wearing that lookagain. The one that makes me feel like I’m prey, he hasn’t quite decided what to do with yet.

“Sloane.” He breaks the silence, his voice cracking like a whip. “Did you call the London and Zurich offices?”

“Yes, Mr. Black.”

“Edit my presentation.”

“Yes, Mr. Black.”

“You didn’t forget to email me the Bexley report.”

“No, Mr. Black.”

“You can go now.”

I flash him my fakest smile as he turns back to his office without another word, dismissing me like I’m nothing more than background noise.

The moment he’s out of earshot, I can’t help parroting under my breath, “Yes,sir.No,sir. Three bagsfuckingfull,sir.”

Immediately, his stride falters.

Then he pivots and closes the distance slowly. He plants both hands on my desk and leans in until his shadow swallows me.

And damn him for looking even sexier this close.

“Did you say something, Sloane?” His voice is low. Lethal.

Oh, God—there’s no way he heard.

I clear my throat, eyes wide and innocent. “Only that your schedule is... reallyfull.”

He studies me, eyes darkening, jaw tight. “Keep it that way.”

“Yes, Mr. Black.”

There’s a charged pause as our gazes lock in a silent standoff, before I break first and look away.

“If that’s all, Mr. Black,” I say, my breath unsteady. “I’ll be leaving now.”

“For today, yes.” His mouth curves faintly. “But I suggest you get some rest. You’re going to need it.”

I exhale as he turns back to his office, puzzled by his last comment, but I shake it off. He must be referring to theendless paperwork. With him gone, Sloane will power through whatever’s left in no time.

Afraid that he’ll change his mind, I sling my handbag over my shoulder and hurry to the elevator, eager to visit Elsie and Sloane at the hospital.

Before the doors slide shut, I catch one last glimpse of Dane—every inch the ruler of his kingdom, reclined in his chair, feet on the desk, phone glued to his ear, one hand raking through his hair.