S** Tape
he groaned, snapping his hips a little faster.
Vivi’s fingers curled into fists.
Six months ago, Vivienne had stepped into this very office and immediately noticed something was off. The secretary, once polished and efficient, had transformed. Her dark hair was suddenly platinum blonde, her laugh had taken on a rehearsed, syrupy sweetness, and her skirts had crept higher than what any HR policy would deem appropriate.
The secretary was gone now.
But Celeste had stayed by Wes’s side, gliding effortlessly from desk to penthouse, from assistant to mistress.