ANDREA’S POVBy six o'clock that evening, I was convinced Ryder Santos had made it his life's mission to personally ruin my sanity. My feet hurt, my shoulders hurt, my head hurt, even my patience had died somewhere around lunchtime and nobody had bothered to bury it.The man had worked me like a machine. If he needed a file, I got it. If he needed coffee, I arranged it. If he needed reports, schedules, contracts, presentations, meeting notes, or someone's firstborn child, I was beginning to suspect I would somehow be responsible for that too.I sank into the passenger seat of his car and closed my eyes. Just five minutes, that was all I wanted. Five minutes of peace. Instead, Ryder sat beside me looking entirely too pleased with himself.The bastard. I could feel him staring, I refused to look at him. The car rolled through the evening traffic while silence stretched between us. Then he ruined it."Are you tired?" he asked. I opened one eye. "No, sir."His mouth twitched. "You sound
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