“Then, figure out how to love it,” she said.

“What?”

“You said yourself that your brother tried to leave, but then he came back because this company was your legacy, your life. But it doesn’t have to be a death sentence. Jude found a way to make it work for him. Find a way to make it work for you. Delegate, and switch things around. Be a boss, Roman! It’s your company, not your father’s. Find a way.”

“Will you help me?” I asked, looking up at her in the darkened room.

She smiled a wide happy smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Another weekend was about to arrive, which meant two days of uninterrupted time with Cara.

We’d had a bumpy few days of getting used to our new relationship and how to balance it in the workplace.

Scratch that.

I’d had a bumpy few days.

She’d seemed to handle the transition just fine.

After my little trick of publicly calling her into my office, only to ask her out on a date, she’d decided it would be best if we kept things strictly professional during business hours.

Being the boss, I’d had no choice but to agree.

Except that being strictly professional was kicking my assistant-loving ass.

I didn’t know if she was purposely trying to drive me crazy or if I was doing a fine job of it all on my own, but every whiff of her fruity shampoo, every sideways glance I caught of her bending over, or hell… even when she walked, it was enough to drive me permanently insane.

By Friday, I’d sported more hard-ons than a teenage boy with a porno magazine.

When the clock hit five, I would be dragging that woman to my apartment and locking her inside for forty-eight hours straight.

I couldn’t wait.

I’d been staring at the clock all day and doing my best to avoid my lovely assistant as much as possible. I was so hopped up on the idea of two days with Cara that I might just break her rule and take her right here on my damn desk.

Somehow, I’d managed to get several things done in my agitated state, and as I sat at my desk, clicking my pen like a hyped up bunny on steroids, I heard a tiny knock on my door.

“Come in,” I said, not bothering to look up.

“I thought, for sure, you’d be racing out of here, throwing me over your shoulder like Tarzan the second it hit five o’clock. Imagine my surprise when I looked up and discovered it was five minutes past.”

My eyes jerked up, glaring at the clock, which indeed showed it was now past the golden hour.

How had I missed that?