My foster father always said the way to learn the job you want is to spend every second watching someone do it.

"To get the job at the top, you've got to start at the bottom," he told me. "Become the person the CEO can't live without. Be there right hand man. Learn their world, and they'll snatch you up the second you finish your degree."

I had become irreplaceable. And I definitely become the right hand. It just so happened that in this case, I was the right hand that most days wanted to slap the damn face. My boss, Miss Regina mills. The Evil queen. My stomach clenched tightly at the thought of her: tall, gorgeous, and entirely evil. She was the most self righteous, bitch I've ever met. I'd hear all of the other women in the office talking about her escapades and wonder if a nice face was all it took.

But my foster father also said," you realize early in life that the beauty is only skin deep comma in the ugly go straight to the bone."

I'd had my fair share of unpleasant both men and women in the past few years, I dated a few in high school and college. But this one took the cake.

"Well, hello Miss Swan!" Miss Mills stood in the doorway to my office that served as an anteroom to hers.

Her voice was laced with honey, but it was all wrong... Like honey left to freeze and crack on ice. After spilling water on my phone, dropping my ear rings into the garbage disposal, being rear-ended on the interstate, and having to wait for the cops to come and tell us what we both already knew, that it was the other guys fault, the last thing I needed this morning was a grumpy Regina mills. Too bad for me she didn't come in any other flavor. I gave her my usual.

"Good morning, miss mills," hoping she would give me her usual curt nod in return.

But when I tried to slip past her, she murmured, "indeed? Morning, Miss Swan? What time is it in your little world?"

I stopped and met her cold stare. She was a good three inches taller than me in those 'fuck me' heels she seemed to like so much, and before working for her I never felt so small. I'd worked for Mills media group for six years. But since she returned to the family business nine months ago.

"I had a bit of a disaster morning. It won't happen again," I said, relieved that my voice came out steady. I have never been late, not once, but leave it to her to make a thing of it the first time it happened. I managed to slip past her, put my purse and coat in my closet, and power up my computer. I try to act like she wasn't standing in the doorway, watching my every move.

"Disaster morning is quite an apt description for what I've had to deal with in your absence. I spoke to Alex Shaffer personally to smooth over the fact that he didn't get the signed contract on promised, nine a.m., East Coast time. I had to call Madeline Beaumont personalyl and to let her know we were, in fact, going to proceed with the proposal is written. In other words, I have done your job in mind this morning. Surely, even with a disastrous morning you can manage eight a.m.? Some of us get up and start work before the brunch hour."

I glanced up at her, antagonizing me, glaring, arms crossed over her chest, and all because I was an hour late. I blinked away, very deliberately not staring at the way the third button on the tailored white button-down shirts strained at her breasts. I made the mistake of visiting the hotel gym during a convention the first month we worked together and walked in to find her doing pull ups, in nothing but a fitted white t-shirt and yoga pants, all sweaty. She had a face that any woman would kill for in the most incredible hair I'd ever seen. Freshly fucked hair. That's what the girls downstairs called it, and according to them, it earned its title. Of course, she had to ruin it by opening her mouth:

"It's nice to see you finally taking an interest in your personal fitness, miss Swan."

Asshole.

"I'm sorry, Miss Mills," I said with just a hint of bite. "I understand the burden I placed on you by making you manage a fax machine and pick up a telephone. As I mentioned, it won't happen again."

"you're right it won't," she replied, cocky smile firmly in place.

If only she would keep her mouth shut, she'd be perfect. A piece of duct tape will do the trick. I had some of my desk that I'd occasionally pull out and fondle, hoping someday I could put it to good use.

"And just so you don't allow this incident to slip your memory, I'd like to see the full status tables for the gold, De Veil, and Dumont projects on my desk by five. And you're going to make up the hours lost this morning by doing a mock board presentation for the Nolan's account for me in the conference room at six. If you're going to manage this account, you're going to prove to me that you know what the hell you're doing."

M y eyes widened as I watched her turn away, slamming her office door behind her. She knew damn well that I was ahead of schedule with this project, which also served as my MBA thesis. I still had five months to finish my slides once the contracts were signed... Which they weren't, they hadn't even been fully drafted. Now, with everything else on my plate, he wanted me to put together a mock board presentation ij... I looked at my watch. Great, seven and a half hours, if I skipped lunch. I open the Nolan file and got down to it.

As everyone begins lettering out for lunch, I remain glued to my desk with my coffee and a bag of trail mix I bought from the vending machine. Normally I'd bring leftovers or leave with the other interns to grab something, but time was not on my side today. I heard the outer office door open and looked up, smiling as Ruby walked in. Ruby was in the same MBA internship program as the Mills Media Group that I was, though she worked in accounting.

"Ready for lunch?" She asked.

"I'm going to have to skip it. This is the day from hell." I looked at her apologetically, and her smile turned into a smirk.

"day from Hell, or boss from hell? She took a seat in on the edge of my desk. "I heard she was on a bit of a rampage this morning."

I gave her knowing look. Ruby didn't work for her, but knew all about Regina mills. As the only daughter of the company founder Cora Mills, and with a notoriously short fuse, she was a living legend in the building.

"Even if there were two me, I wouldn't be able to get this finished in time."

"You sure you don't want me to bring you back something?" Her eyes moved in the direction of her office." A hitman? Some holy water?"
I laughed. "I'm good."

Ruby smiled and left the office. I just finished off the last of my coffee when I bent down, noting a run in my stockings. "And on top of everything else," I began, hearing Ruby return, "I've already snagged these. Actually if you're going somewhere there's chocolate, bring me back fifty pounds, so I can eat my feelings later."

I glanced up and saw that it wasn't Ruby sending their cheeks flushed red and I pulled my skirt back down.

"I'm sorry, Miss Mills, I..."
"Miss Swan, since you and the other office girls have plenty of time to discuss problematic lingerie, in addition to putting together the Nolan presentation, I need you to also run down to the Willis office and retrieve the market analyst and the segmentation for the Belmont. She pulled on her blazer then running her fingers through your hair, looking at her reflection In my window. Do you think you can manage that?"

Did she just call me an 'office girl?' Sure as part of my internship I often did some basic assistant work for her, but she knew damn well that I had worked for this company for years before receiving a JD Miller scholarship to Northwestern. I was four months away from getting my business degree.

Getting my degree and getting the hell out from under you, I thought I looked up to meet her blazing eyes. "I'll be happy to ask Mary Margaret if she-"

"It wasn't a suggestion," she cut me off."I'd like you to pick them up." She gazed at me for a moment with the cleanse job before turning on her heel and storming back into her office, pulling the door closed roughly behind her.

What the fuck was her problem? Was slamming doors like a teenager really necessary? I grabbed my leather jacket from the back of the chair and began making my way to our satellite office a few buildings down. When I returned, I knocked on her door but there was no response. I tried the knob. Locked. She was probably having a late afternoon quickie with some trust fund princess while I ran around Chicago like a insane person. I shoved the manila folder through the mail slot, hoping the papers scattered everywhere and she'd have to get down and sort them herself. Would serve her right. I rather like the image of her on her knees on the floor, gathering scattered documents. Then again, knowing her, she would call me into that sterile hell hole to clean it up while she watched.

Four hours later I had the status updates complete, my slides mostly an order, and I was almost hysterically laughing with how awful this day was. I found myself wanting a very bloody and drawn out murder of the kid at the copy stop. A simple job, that's all I had asked. Make some copies, find some things. Should have been a piece of cake. In and out. But no. It had taken two hours. I raced down the darkened hall of the now empty building, the presentation materials clutched half haphazardly in my arms, and glanced at my watch. Six twenty. Miss Mills was going to have my ass. I was twenty minutes late. As I experienced this morning, she hated late. Late was the word not found in the Regina mills Evil Queen dictionary. Along with: heart, kindness, compassion, lunch break, or thank you. So there I was, running through the empty halls in my flat like Italian pumps, racing to the executioner.

Breathe Emma. She can smell fear.

As I near the conference room, I tried to calm my breathing and slowed to a walk. Soft light shone from beneath the closed door. She was definitely in there, waiting for me. Carefully I attempted to smooth my hair and clothing while tidying the bundle of documents in my arms. Taking a deep breath, , I knocked on the door.

"Come in."

I walked into the warmly a lit place the conference room was huge; one wall was filled with floor to ceiling windows that gave a beautiful view of the Chicago cityscape from eighteen stories up. Dusk darkened the outside, and skyscrapers speckled the horizon with their light and windows. In the center of the room still a large heavy one conference table and facing me from the head of the table was Miss Mills. She sat there, blazer hanging on the chair behind her, what seemed to be like on another button open, crisp white shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows and chin resting on her steepled fingers. Her eyes were boring into mine, but she said nothing.

"I apologize, Miss Mills," I said my voice wavering with my still labored breathing, "the print job took—" I stopped. Excuses wouldn't help my situation. And besides, I wasn't going to let her blame me for something I had no control over. She could kiss my ass. With my newfound bravery and place, I lifted my chin and walked over to where she sat.

Without meeting her gaze, I sorted through my papers in place to copy other presentations on the table before us.

"Are you ready for me to begin?"

She didn't respond aloud, her eyes piercing my brave front. This would be a lot easier if she wasn't so gorgeous. Instead, she gestured toward the materials before her, urging me to continue. I cleared my throat and begin my presentation. As I moved through the different aspects of the proposal, she stayed silent, staring directly at her copy. Why was she so calm? Her temper tantrums I could handle. But the eerie silence? It was unnerving. I was leaning over the table, gesturing toward a set of graph, when it happened.

"Their timeline for the first milestone is a little bit ambi—" I stopped mid sentence, my breath caught in my throat. Her hands pressed gently into my lower back before sliding down, settling on the curve of my ass. In the nine months I had worked for her, she had never intentionally touched me.

This was most definitely intentional. From the heat of her hand burned through my skirt and into my skin every muscle in my body tensed and it felt like my insides were liquefying. What the hell was she doing? My brain screen that mean to put her hand off, till tell her never to touch me again, but my body had other ideas. My nipples harden, and I clench my jaw in response. Traitor nipples.

While my heart pounded in my chest, at least half a minute passed, and neither of us said anything as her hand move down to my thigh, caressing. Our breathing and the muted noise of the city below where the only sounds in the still air of a conference room.

"Turn around, Miss Swan." her quiet voice broke the silence and I straighten my back, eyes facing forward. Slowly I turned, her hands skimming across me and sliding to my hip. I could feel the way her hands spread from her fingertips on my lower back all the way to where her thumb pressed against the soft skin just in front of my hip bone. I look down to meet her eyes, which looked intensely back at me.

I could see her chest rising and falling, each breath deeper than the last. A muscle twitch in her sharp jaw as a thumb began to move, slowly sliding back and forth, her eyes never leaving mine. She was waiting for me to stop her, there had been plenty of time for me to shove her away, or simply turn and leave. But I had too many feelings to sort out before I could react. I had never felt this way, and I had never expected to feel this about her. I wanted to slap her, and then pull her up by her shirt and lick her neck.

"What are you thinking?" she whispered, eyes somehow both mocking and anxious.

"I'm still trying to figure that out."

With those eyes still locked into mine, she began to slide her hand lower. Her fingers ran down down my thigh, to the hem of my skirt. She moved it up so her fingertips trace the strap of my garter belt, the lace edge and of one thigh high stockings. A long finger slipped beneath the small fabric and pulled it down slightly. I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling suddenly like I was melting from the outside in. How could I let my body react like this? Still wanted to slap her, but now, more than that, I wanted to keep her going. The heavy ache between my legs was building. She reached the edge of my panties and slipped her fingers under the fabric. I felt her slide against my skin and graze my clit before pushing her finger inside me, and I bit my lip trying, unsuccessfully, to stifle my groan. When I look down at her, beads of sweat were forming on her brow.

"Fuck," she growled quietly. "You're wet." Her eyes fell closed and she seemed to be waging the same internal battle I was. Without opening her eyes, she withdrew her finger and fisted the thin lace of my panties in her hand. She was shaking as she looked up at me, fury clear in her expression. In one quick movement she tore them off, the rip of the fabric echoing in the silence.

She pulled my hips roughly lifting me up onto the cold table and spreading my legs in front of her. I gave an involuntary groan as her fingers returned, sliding between my legs and pushing into me again. I despise this woman in a singularly Sharp way, but my body was betraying me, I craved more of what she was doing. Damn if she wasn't good at this. Hers weren't the gentle loving touch as I was accustomed to. There was a woman used to getting what she wanted, and it turned out that right now, what she wanted was me. My head fell to the side as I leaned back on my elbows, feeling my impeding orgasm approaching fast.

To my absolute horror I actually whimpered, "oh, please." She stopped moving, pulling her fingers back and holding them in a fist before her. I sat up, grabbing the collar of her shirt and pulling her mouth roughly against mine. Her lips felt perfect as they looked, firm and smooth. I'd never been kissed by someone who clearly knew every single angle and dip and teasing move to make me almost completely lose my mind.

I bit her lower lip as my hands made quick work down to the front of her pants, whipping her belt free of the loop. "You better be ready to finish what you started."

She made a low, angry noise deep in her throat and took my blouse in her hands, ripping it open, the silver buttons skittering across the long conference table.

She slid her hand up my ribs and over my breasts, thumbs slipping back and forth across my taunt nipples, her dark stare fixated on my expression the entire time. I pushed into her palms wanting more, and harder. She growled, fingers tightening. It occurred to me I might bruise, and for a sick moment I hope they did. I wanted a way to remember this feeling, being completely sure of what my body wanted to, entirely unleashed.

She leaned close enough to bite my shoulder, whispering," you fucking tease." The way she has my last name, "Swan", should have sent a rush of fury through me, but I only felt one thing right now, pure: unadulterated lust. She forced my skirt up my thighs and pushed me back on the conference table.

"Don't move," she murmured as she walk back over to where her blazer Sat, and pulled something out of it that I couldn't quite make out. Before I could utter a single word, she was standing in front of me fastening a strap on to her waist. She took hold of my ankles, grabbed the cock, and took a step forward, thrusting it deep inside of me.

I couldn't even be horrified by the loud moan I let out, she felt better than anything.

"What's that?" She hissed through clenched teeth, her hips slamming against my thighs, driving the cock deep inside. "Never been fucked like this before, have you? You wouldn't be such a tease if you were being properly fucked."

Who did she think she was? And why the hell did it turn me on so much that she was right? I had never had sex anywhere but on a bed, and it never felt like this.

"I've had better," I taunted.

She laughed, a quiet mocking sound. "Look at me."

"No." She pulled out just as I was about to come. At first I thought she was actually going to leave me this way, until she grabbed my arm and yank me up off the table, lips and tongue pressing against mine.

"Look at me," she said again. And, finally, with her no longer inside me, I could. She blinked once, Wylie, long dark lashes brushing against your cheek, and then said, "ask me to make you come."

Her tone was all wrong. It was almost a question, but her words were just like her- all evil queen. I did want her to make me come. More than anything. But I'd be damned if I ever ask her for anything.

I dropped my voice and stared back at her. "You're a bitch, Miss Mills."

Her smile told me that whatever she needed from me, she got. I wanted to punch her in the face, but then I wouldn't get more of what I really wanted.

"Say please, Miss Swan."

"Please, go fuck yourself."

The next thing I felt was so cold window against my breasts, and I groaned at the intense contrast in temperature between it and her skin. I was on fire; every part of me wanted to feel her soft yet rough touch.

"At least you're consistent," she snarled into my ear report biting my shoulder. She kicked at my feet. "Spread your legs."

I parted my legs and without hesitation she pulled my hips back and reached between us before thrusting forward into me.

"You like the cold?"

"Yes."

"Devious, filthy girl. You like being watched, don't you?" She murmured, taking my earlobe between her teeth. "You love that all Chicago can look up here and I'm getting fucked, and you love every minute of it with your breast pressed against the glass."

"Stop talking, you're ruining it." So she wasn't. Not even close. Her husky voice was doing wicked things to me.

But she just laughed in my ear and probably noticed the way I shivered have the sound."You want them to see you come?"

I groaned in response, unable to form words with each repeated thrust into me, pressing me further against the glass.

"Say it. So you want to come, Miss Swan? Answer me or I'll stop and make you eat me out instead," she hissed, driving herself deeper and deeper inside of me with every thrust.

The part of me that hated her was dissolving like sugar on my tongue, in the part that wanted everything she had to give me was growing, hot and demanding.

"Just tell me." She leaned forward, sucked my earlobe between her lips and then gave it a sharp bite. "I promise I'll give it to you."

"Please," I said, closing my eyes to shut out everything else and just feel her. "Please. Yes."

She reached around, moving her fingertips across my clit with the perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm. I could feel her smile press into the back of my neck, and when she opened her mouth and pressed her teeth into my skin, I was done for. Warmth spread down my spine, around my head, in between my legs, jerking me back and tell her. My hand slammed against the glass, my entire body quaking from the orgasm that was rushing over me, leaving me gasping for air. When it finally subsided, she pulled out and spun me around to face her, ducking her head to suck my neck, my jaw, my lower lip.

"Say thank you," she whispered.

I dug my hands into her hair and tugged hard, hoping I could get some reaction out of her, wanting to see if she was in control or delusional. What are we doing?

She groaned, leaning into my hands and kissing up and down my neck, the silicone cock processing into my stomach.

"Now make me feel good."

I released one hand and unhooked the harness and began stroking her clit. She's was hot, slick, and it felt perfect to be inside her. I wanted to tell her, but I'd be damned if I ever let her know how amazing she felt. Instead, I pulled away from her lips, staring at her with hooded eyes.

"I'm going to make you come so hard you forget that you're supposed to be the world's biggest bitch," I growled, sliding down the glass before I begin licking and sucking against her engorged, throbbing clit. She tensed and let out a deep moan. I looked up at her, her palms and forehead resting on the glass, her eyes closed tight. She looked vulnerable, and she looked gorgeous in her abandon.

But she wasn't vulnerable. She was the biggest jerk on the planet and I was on my knees in front of her. No fucking way.

So instead of giving her what I know she wanted, I stood up, pulling my skirt back down, and met her eyes. It was easier now, without her touching me and making me feel things she had no business doing. The seconds ticked bye, neither of us looking away.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She husked."Get on your knees and open your mouth."

"Not a chance."

I pulled the front of my buttonless shirt together and walk out, praying my shaky legs wouldn't betray me.

Grabbing my purse from my desk, I threw my blazer on, trying desperately to fasten the button with my trembling fingers. Miss Mills still haven't come out, and I ran to the elevator prank to God and wouldn't get there before I had to face her again.

I couldn't even let myself think about what happen until I was out of there. I don't let her suck me, give me the most amazing orgasm of my life, and then I left her with her pants around her ankles in the company conference room. If this was someone else's life I would be high-fiving them so hard. Too bad it wasn't.

Shit.

The doors opened and I entered, quickly pushing the button and watching as each for counted down. As soon as the elevator reached the lobby I raced out and down the hall. I briefly heard the security guard say something about working late, but I just waved and sped past him.

With each step the ache between my legs reminded me of the events of the last hour. As I reached my car I unlocked it with the remote, pulled open the door, and collapsed into the safety of the leather seats. I looked up at myself in the rearview mirror.

What in the fuck was that?