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Bas gapes at me. “Wanting more money out of the deal, I understand. You may be right that Lund can cough up more. But you can’t possibly be willing to blow a billion dollars to coddle your existing workers. C’mon.”

“I’m not,” I assure. “But if I can ensure their futures for a bit longer—and yeah, stick it to Lund—I will.”

“Just don’t worry too hard. Everyone who works for you is smart. They understand the corporate game. If they’re unhappy or they see the writing on the wall after the sale, they’ll start looking for other jobs. Negotiate whatever terms you can, say adios, then laugh all the way to the bank.”

“Don’t be an ass, Shaw.” Nia strolls in, wearing a figure-hugging dress in a teal shade that makes my breath catch, beige heels, and a smile.

Holy shit. After one glance, I’m beyond eager to peel every stitch off her, toss her onto the table, and shove my way between her legs.

So much for my theory about being sated and disinterested.

She looks different this morning than she did on Saturday night—without the inch of black eyeliner, false lashes, stark red lips, and all the glitter. Today, her makeup is subtle. Browns accentuate her eyes. Her cheeks have a hint of a flush. The lights in the room catch the soft glow of her lustrous skin. Her lips are a sheer berry shade that makes me desperate to kiss them.

How did I look at her for three fucking years and see an assistant, not a woman? A lover? No idea. I only know I can’t do it anymore.

Bas flashes Nia a huge smile. “Wright, you know that’s part of my charm.”

They’ve been on a last-name basis in the office forever. They’re usually friendly. Today, I don’t like the speculative way Bas eyes her.

“Ha! What charm?” She raises a brow at him. “Think about this from the employees’ point of view. Take Perkins, who’s been counting the days until his retirement in three years. He’s going to rely on that pension. What happens if Evan sells out and Colossus changes the benefits structure? Will he still be able to spend his golden years in the Outer Banks fishing or will he eventually have to go back to work? And what happens to the employees on tuition assistance? The ones who rely on our health plan? Hell, what happens to the workers they lay off? Will all of them find new jobs they like half as well? Will any of them?”

And what about Nia herself? I’m her first employer out of college. She’s scarcely worked for anyone but me. What if she ends up assisting someone who doesn’t treat her with respect? Or what if she finds herself working for another executive who’s attracted to her, he touches her, and they…

Fuck.

Unacceptable. If I sell, I’m taking her with me. Well, provided she’ll follow. Right now, I don’t know. She hasn’t acknowledged me since she entered the room. Is she going to act like I wasn’t inside her, as deep as a man can get, less than thirty-six hours ago?

“Good morning, Nia.”

“Morning,” she says absently as she sets her purse and coffee cup on the table, then slides into the chair between Bas and me.

That’s it? Is she going to look at me at all? “Do you have specific suggestions?”

“To protect the employees? Make Colossus honor your benefits for three years. Tell them they can’t lay off anyone for eighteen months. Force them to provide education assistance and placement services for any Stratus employees they release. You know the drill.”

“It’s a stop-gap measure. Nothing will protect them indefinitely after I’m gone.” I don’t know why I’m playing devil’s advocate with her when I agree those are concessions worth obtaining. Am I that desperate to make her talk to me?

“Nothing ever will,” she argues. “But if you’re actually serious about selling…”

“You think I shouldn’t?”

“Saying no would be stupid,” Bas cuts in. “He’s young and connected enough to build another business. Or he could just kick back. Take up philanthropy. Buy his own tropical island. Whatever he wants.”

It’s hard to argue with his logic. If I were in his shoes advising me about this buyout, I’d probably tell me to negotiate those last few terms and dollars I want, then take the deal.

“No one will care about this business the way Evan will. And I think he’ll regret selling.” She shrugs as if it’s obvious. “His heart is with Stratus.”

I scowl. “Hearts don’t belong in business.”

She purses her lips together, disappointment tightening her face as she looks over at Bas. “Pass the donuts, Shaw.”

Dutifully, Bas does, along with a stack of paper napkins. She opens the box and pulls out a Boston cream, then lifts it to her mouth. When her lips envelop the chocolate-covered, cream-filled concoction, she bites down with a long, low moan. I get hard instantly. Suddenly, I can’t help remembering her groans and whimpers when she dug her nails into my back while I stroked inside her.

This train of thought isn’t helping our discussion. Or my mood. Something angry overtakes me with every passing moment she acts like nothing at all happened between us.

“I’ll take one,” I say to her—not because I actually want a donut, but simply because I need her to look at me.

She hesitates, then gives the box a shove, sliding it across the table. Finally, she lifts her lashes and glances my way. Our eyes meet.