Cracked Open

Mia

“I messed up his room,” I murmured to myself. I glanced at that king-size bed with the expensive duvet cover of grayish blue and black and felt a delicious shiver pass down my spine. Then I turned my attention to the floor. I sighed and proceeded to find a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that were still intact. No such luck, of course.

I was midway through pulling my ripped T-shirt on when three knocks came at the door. I quickly pulled the rest of the thin gray material down my body and said, “Come in.”

The door cracked open, and Ms. Lane silently entered. She stood straight as she faced me, her hands clasped before her as she addressed me. “Are you ready to see Mr. Maxwell?”

If wearing ripped jeans and a shirt without a bra—because that very last one lying on the floor was torn beyond repair and unwearable—was ready, then yes, I was as ready as I could be to face the billionaire my brother owed two million dollars, the man who’d seen me with my naked backside in the air.

I murmured,