Chapter 35: Why Is Your Name Ivy Harpley?

Ivy’s pov

Time seemed to stop.

In fact, there was no concept of time in this moment; there was only him. Only the tall, solid bulk of masculinity behind me.

We were frozen like that. Gideon gazed down at me, his sapphire eyes slowly lighting up like a candle and then blazing as they scanned my face, falling on my lips.

His jaw tightened as he gazed down, and my body betrayed me, arching deeper into his, seeking more of his warmth, more of his scent, more.

One of his dark brows, the left, perfectly beautiful brow, arched up, and I must be so close to my ovulation because that had me panting like some sow in heat, completely unable to look away, my breath coming in ragged, shallow bursts.

I bit down hard on my lower lip, and a low, dangerous rumble moved in Gideon’s chest, and then his body was pressing against mine. His thighs, hard and powerful, molded against my ass, and a helpless whimper escaped my throat.

Oh yes. Yes, please- wait, what the hell?

Before I could process it, he lifted me by the waist, my feet leaving the floor as if I had the same weight as the stack of paper on his desk.

"Uh, Gideon...I mean, Mr. Knight, what are you doing?"

"Clean," he grunted out, his voice strained.

I was so confused, my body still humming with arousal as he continued to raise me upwards.

"Uh, what?"

"Clean, Miss Harpley. You couldn’t reach the top shelf?"

Oh. Oh my God. He was literally just helping me clean. Mortification washed over me.

Jesus Christ, Ivy, you horny little bug.

I mumbled an apology and frantically started dusting the top shelf, but it was useless. All I could hear was the sound of his breathing, ragged and deep, right behind me, mixed with my own pathetic, panting gasps.

It was so hot, so ridiculously, maddeningly teasing. My nipples were stiff with need, and I just knew they were poking out shamelessly while I imagined them getting caught between his thick thumb and forefinger as he pinched and squeezed.

Don’t cum.

I swiped the duster over the wood harder, my cheeks heating up at my shameless thoughts. When I got out of this place, I was definitely using my vibrator.

I needed to cum so bad. After dusting the bookshelf in a few clumsy strokes, I stopped, my arm frozen. I was done. Now what?

"Are you done?" he asked, his voice a low vibration against my back, making more hot liquid pool between my legs.

What would it be like when he was done with me? I mean, sure, I didn’t have tits like Tittyana, but my tits were more than a handful and-

"Miss Harpley?"

It’s Ivy. Why won’t you call me Ivy, dammit?

I swallowed hard, mumbling my response. "Yes, sir."

He lowered me slowly, his hard, muscular body teasing mine. When my feet touched the ground, he stepped away, and I assumed he was returning to his desk.

I turned around, ready to make my escape, and came face-to-face with him. His eyes were blazing with that same intense heat that I had seen on Monday when he had his cock lodged deep in Tittyana’s throat.

I shivered when his hand reached up, his fingers gently sweeping my short hair away from my neck.

A flush stole my cheeks, my stomach clenching as I realized what he was looking at: the faint hickey Malachi had left, which was just as stubborn as the jerk who left it, taking its time to disappear.

The heat in his eyes didn’t just fade away; it snuffed out, replaced by an arctic, chilling cold look in those blue eyes.

"Cover it up," He ordered in a flat voice, withdrawing his hand swiftly as if I were carrying a pox or something.

"Or get rid of it."

Gee, thanks, Lord and Master of my life. Screw him and his pompousness. I would tell him that, but I didn’t have the ledger and couldn’t afford to be thrown out, so I stuck with clutching my duster to my chest and turned to flee.

"Miss Harpley. Answer a question."

Oh god, what now? My feet stopped in their tracks as I whipped around to face him. "Yes, sir?"

"I need some clarification." He retrieved the one thing I was looking for, his laptop, from his back and placed it on the desk.

There was no way he knew I had tried to copy the files, right?

"The name of the housekeeper the agency sent to my email was Ivy Thompson. Why is your name Ivy Harpley?"

Every drop of blood drained from my face. I was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. Any semblance of a moment we might have shared was gone, obliterated to nonexistence by the cold look on his face.

A sharp knock echoed through the study, and the door swung open. Malachi strolled in, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his chest bare and a pair of low-slung black sweatpants doing nothing to hide the deep V-line on his bronze skin.

Roman followed, and at least he was wearing a ridiculously bright, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt.

"G, do I have to be at this meeting? You and Malachi are the only ones who understand- "He broke off, rushing to my side.

"Vivi! There you are! I was looking for you at breakfast, sweetheart. Why didn’t you come to clean my room? I was waiting- are you okay? You look pale." He started fussing, his hands hovering over my arms.

"Did you eat breakfast? You need to eat more. I told Donna to make more pancakes."

Malachi ignored his brother, his sharp gaze narrowing as he immediately picked up on the tension in the room.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes flicking from Gideon’s icy glare to my face.

"What’s going on?"

"I was just asking Miss Harpley," Gideon said, leaning back in his chair, his icy gaze never leaving mine.

"Why did the agency send us a housekeeper named Ivy Thompson, but she introduced herself as Ivy Harpley?"