Devilishly Wicked Read Free Page A

perfectly.
    She remained where she was until she knew he was gone. And only then did she head to her desk, which took up a majority of Tristan McIntyre’s reception area.
    She turned sideways to slip behind the large semicircular desk and dropped onto her desk chair. She sat there for a moment, willing herself to calm down, but her heart thudded almost painfully in her chest.
    “Dippy,” she called, wanting something else to focus on to help calm her. But the little dog didn’t appear. He must have followed Tristan into the back office. She didn’t know if she should be offended that the little fluff ball had left her for the dark side.
    Not that the little dog was any real protection. She took another deep breath, then pulled her chair in and focused on her list of duties. But her attention didn’t make it through the first few tasks.
    Why couldn’t she just remain calm and not let this man get to her? She knew the flirtation was just a game for him. An amusement, because she was so easily flustered by his attention. She knew exactly what he was doing, so why did he still have this effect on her? Even after all these months working for him? Even before that, when she’d worked for Finola White, she’d seen him daily. And he’d been a flirt then, too. With everyone.
    She reached for the legal pad with the list of handwritten tasks covering several lines. Tristan’s handwriting was neat, precise, but still had a certain flare.
    Her skin tingled just looking at it.
    And this, this was the real torture of her job. This ridiculous, uncontrollable, undeniable, and overwhelming attraction to her boss. To a boss who could be a model himself.
    Talk about totally hopeless.

Chapter Two
    T ristan McIntyre smiled as he made his way through the catacomb of glass walls to his office. He could always count on his personal assistant’s reaction to him to start his day off right. Since the first time he’d met Georgia Sullivan, her reaction had never wavered.
    She wanted him. Her desire for him filled the air, and he drank it up like the morning’s first cup of coffee. In fact, he craved it just like a caffeine addict craved his coffee fix.
    His smile widened as he recalled how her desire surged and intensified as he’d flirted with her. Making the regular coffee into a double espresso. Strong, dark, and hot.
    Oh, yeah, he loved playing with her. As a demon of lust, he needed that kind of reaction. Thrived on it.
    But his bliss faded as he realized someone was following close at his heels. His smile flipped to a frown. Damned Dippy.
    One thing he’d learned, perhaps a little too late—hellhounds were relentless. And when it came to trying to get what he wanted, Dippy was like a dog with a bone, literally and figuratively.
    But the pesky ball of fur didn’t say anything. He just settled on his haunches, watching with his beady little eyes while he waited for Tristan to open the office door.
    Tristan did, pushing open the glass door, before he realized Finola White sat at his desk, the highly polished white acrylic command center that had once belonged to her. And from the way she lounged in the desk chair, she obviously thought it still did.
    He sighed. Caught between a demon and a hellhound—so, so much worse than a rock and a hard place.
    And this was another reason he needed the little moments of fun with his personal assistant. Because the truth was, being the leader of a demon rebellion was not all that it was cracked up to be. Especially when he had to work with two underlings who refused to accept they were indeed his minions.
    He walked into the room, bracing himself for more complaints and defiance and general drama, and he wasn’t disappointed.
    “Tristan, power doesn’t suit you. It’s clearly caused you to lose your mind.”
    Tristan dropped his briefcase onto his desk, giving her a pointed look, waiting for her to move. She settled deeper into the chair and crossed her arms over her chest.
    Dippy, who was