Elara finally stopped writing.
She looked up through her thick lashes, her glass-bead eyes locking onto his. A faint, nearly imperceptible shift occurred in her posture. She leaned forward just a fraction, the soft weight of her cleavage pressing flush against the edge of the desk.
"Are you submitting a formal request to inspect the inventory?" she asked.
The question hung in the air, blunt and terrifyingly serious.
Julian's heart gave a fierce kick against his ribs. The sheer audacity of this woman was going to be the death of him. He let out a low, rough chuckle, pushing himself back up to a proper standing position.
"Not today," he shot back, flashing a wicked, predatory grin. "I think you've done enough damage to my waistline for one week. But keep the keys handy, my lady."
He turned on his heel, striding toward the heavy oak doors with as much swagger as his aching hips would allow.
"I'll be expecting a full demonstration soon."
