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One arrogant boss, one curvy secretary, and a steamy secret. One thing’s for sure – the panties are gonna fly.


My head is still swimming as I walk through the boutique. I’m picking things up without even looking at the price tags, which I didn’t think I’d be able to do, but I’m so distracted it’s actually not difficult at all. This is a side to Adrian I’ve never seen before. I can’t stop picturing the look on his face, even as I try on a few outfits, including a few that would probably impress even him. Righteously angry. Fiercely protective. Two concepts I had never associated with my boss, until now.

I’m halfway to the checkout when a display catches my eye. Silky underwear. I’m pretty sure I’ve never owned silky underwear. Cotton – preferably whichever brand is on sale – has always served me just fine. But now that I’m clutching Adrian Risinger’s black Amex in my hot little hand, it almost seems sinful not to buy some silky underwear. I mean, how would these outfits feel with my old, worn-out Hanes underneath? Nah, that’s no good. Silky underwear it is.

After picking out a handful of pairs, in red, black, and a very girly pink, I head to the register. The cashier is both gorgeous and curvy herself, which I appreciate. She compliments me on my purchases, and when I hand her Mr. Risinger’s card to swipe, she glances up at me with a secretive smile.

“So…you must have liked it, huh?” she asks.

“Um.” I glance at my new purchases, then back up at her. “…it?”

“The…the nightie…” Her eyes widen. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I just assumed – he bought it right before Valentine’s day, I figured he must’ve given it to you already. I hope I didn’t ruin the surprise.”

My brain stutters a few times. “…he?”

“Mr. Risinger,” she says, nodding at the card she’s just handed back to me. “Your, uh…your boyfriend, I assume. Or, you know, whatever. I don’t judge.”

I make an effort to swallow, although my throat suddenly feels very dry. “He bought ah, uh, nightie here?” I manage to ask.

She nods, biting her lip nervously. “If you could call it that. I mean, it’s very cute, but not exactly practical.” A nervous giggle escapes her. “Jeeze, I’m really – I’m really sorry. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Please don’t say anything to him – my boss will kill me if she thinks I scared him off.”

“It’s fine, really. He must’ve decided to save it for another special occasion. I won’t say a word.” I give her a brave smile, so she relaxes a little, because she’s clearly afraid that she’s stumbled into some big old dramatic mess. It’s only reasonable that she should assume this credit card belongs to either my boyfriend or my sugar daddy. After all, I’m not wearing a ring.

But there’s the question of why Mr. Risinger was here before Valentine’s day, buying a nightie. Not a real question, actually. In fact, it’s exactly none of my business. I have no idea what his love life consists of, and I greatly prefer it that way. But it never occurred to me that he’d be spending his time with, well…Women who look like me. Buying lingerie for them, no less.

I try to hide my troubled expression until I walk out the door, because I don’t want the cashier to think she’s accidentally let on that he’s cheating on me, or something.

So, Mr. Risinger likes them curvy.

That’s…that’s sure something.

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