A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss novel Chapter 131

Chapter 131

Madison

I was deep in the throes of research, surrounded by open tabs of Manhattan real estate developments, when my phone buzzed. Alexander’s name flashed on the screen. I hesitated for a split second before answering.

“Hello, Mr. Knight.”

“Madison.” His voice was like warm honey over gravel. “What are you doing right now?”

I glanced at my laptop screen, where I’d been compiling data on projects similar to our Manhattan development. “I’m working, actually. I’m just putting together some research for the project.”

“Such a dedicated employee,” he said, amusement coloring his tone. “Or should I say girlfriend? Working this late without being asked.”

I checked the time in the corner of my screen–10:14 PM. “I’m just trying to be thorough.”

“How about we go out?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Now? It’s after ten.”

“Is your research so urgent it can’t wait until tomorrow?” His voice dropped lower. “I’m bored, and I’d much rather be looking at you than these contracts.”

–

“I…” I looked down at my pajamas an oversized t–shirt and cotton shorts. My hair was piled in a messy bun on top of my head.

“I’m not exactly dressed for going out,” I admitted.

“Then dress for me.” The command in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. “Wear something that makes your ass look good. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

Heat rushed through my body at his words. Even over the phone, Alexander’s voice had the power to make my pulse quicken, and my thighs clench. I glanced at my pajamas and bit my lip, mentally cataloging my closet options.

“So

you want me to get dressed and go out at ten at night because you’re bored? What are we, college students?”

“I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes,” he said, ignoring my protest. “Don’t make me wait, Madison. You know how impatient I get.”

“We have work tomorrow,” I reminded him, running my fingers through my messy hair. “Some of us need sleep to function, Mr. Knight.”

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Chapter 131

+25 BONUS

“We’ll go in late,” he replied smoothly. “Sleep is important for productivity. I wouldn’t want my project manager exhausted.” His voice dropped to that dangerous low register. “This isn’t a request, Madison. It’s an order.”

I rolled my eyes even as my body responded to his commanding tone. At least he’d considered my need for sleep. If he hadn’t, I might have killed him in the coming days. Not literally, but definitely in my imagination.

“Fine,” I conceded. “Thirty minutes.‘

“Good girl. Wear the black lace thong I bought you last week. The one with the little bow at the back.”

I swallowed hard. “The one that’s basically dental floss?” (1)

“Exactly that one.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “And the matching push–up bra. I want your tits practically spilling out.”

“Anything else, Mr. Knight?” I asked, already feeling heat pool between my legs at his directness.

“That red dress. The one with the low back and the slit up the thigh.”

I knew exactly which one he meant. It was practically painted on when I wore it, hugging every curve like a second skin. The neckline plunged almost to my navel, and the back dipped dangerously low.

“That’s not a dress; it’s a handkerchief with delusions of grandeur,” I muttered.

“What was that?” His tone sharpened.

“Nothing. Red dress it is.”

“Good. Thirty minutes, Madison. Don’t make me come up there and dress you myself.”

I hung up, my heart racing at his commanding tone. The thought of Alexander Knight barging into my apartment to personally dress me sent a thrill through my body that I wasn’t ready to examine too closely.

I shed my pajamas and slipped into the black lace thong he’d demanded – a barely–there wisp of fabric that disappeared between my ass cheeks and covered my pussy with just enough lace to technically qualify as underwear.

The matching push–up bra was equally scandalous, lifting my breasts and creating cleavage that practically begged to be touched. The red dress completed the ensemble, clinging to every curve like it was painted on, with a neckline that plunged almost to my navel and a slit that rode high enough to make walking a precarious activity.

I studied my reflection critically, feeling both powerful and vulnerable. The woman in the mirror looked like sex personified, but I wasn’t about to walk through my apartment building looking like

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Chapter 131

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