Tate straightened from his slouched position and dropped his feet from the chair in front of him to the floor with a dull thud. Couldn’t be. This had to be some kind of trick. Some sick twist of fate. Two things occurred to him at once: he was looking at the object of his current fantasies and the woman he had screwed in a women’s bathroom and hadn’t been able to shake from his memory since, and he was pretty damn sure she was his new assistant.
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