Unleashing the Receptionist: ...the Receptionist, Book 3 Read Online Free Page A

faded away as I stroked my sweet Simon’s body.
    “You two cozy up,” rumbled Ethan when he was done. He swatted Simon’s ass. “I’ve got work to do.”
    “ Work ?” Simon and I looked at each other, then back at Ethan. Our boss and master stood up, stretching his shoulders, tightening the belly you could bounce a cufflink off. His magnificence took my breath away.
    “Maybe you’ve forgotten the business plan, but I haven’t,” he said with a wink, shrugging on a white T-shirt. He found a pair of boxers and disappeared into the living room where he kept a laptop.
    Simon and I cuddled on the California king-sized bed that virtually filled the room with its pillow-top luxury. He played with my hair until I went into a lovely swooning daze.
    But I’m stubborn. As I drifted off, I said two things to him. First, “I love you.” Second, “Who’s Margo Lang?”

Chapter Three
    Margo Lang didn’t take long to appear in my life. The next morning she walked into the office, though I had no idea who she was at first. She looked like a model in a designer-eyewear ad, or like a CEO being interviewed about a new hostile takeover. She wore a black suit cut perfectly to her perfect figure. If we had both been standing, she would have towered over me. A string of pearls glowed tastefully from her neck, contrasting with the sneer on her face. Her eyes were green, sharp and curious.
    “Who are you?” Her glance felt like a scalpel, carving me up and down. Obviously she wanted to make me uncomfortable, but I stared back, refusing to give in to her rudeness.
    “I’m Dana Arthur, the receptionist. Can I help you?”
    “Receptionist of the month?” She said with a kind of lofty disdain. “Or of the week, perhaps? The boys always did have shocking turnover in their staff.”
    Somehow she made both “turnover” and “staff” sound dirty. She made me feel dirty.
    She tilted her glasses down her thin nose and gave the foyer a scornful look. “He hasn’t even redecorated. So like a man.”
    “May I help you?” I asked again, through clenched teeth.
    “That depends. Are you decent?”
    “Excuse me?” I glanced down at my outfit. Knee-length gray plaid kilt, demure little sunshine-yellow twinset straight from the fifties. Literally—I’d acquired it at a thrift store.
    “I mean, underneath.” She aimed her evil X-ray vision at me, or at least that’s how it felt. As it happened, I was dressed with uncharacteristic modesty. Stockings and old-fashioned garters to match my vintage theme, and a full-coverage teddy. No panties under the garters, but you can’t have everything.
    “How is that any of your business?” If she thought she could intimidate me, she was in for a shock. I grew up getting yelled at by an alcoholic lunatic and Frankenstein’s bride. An eyewear model didn’t scare me.
    “Didn’t you know? I own twenty percent of this business’s profits. And since the business is made up of the three of you, I prefer to think I own twenty percent of you.”
    My jaw dropped. Literally. Just fell open.
    “I wonder which twenty percent Ethan will assign to me?” She prowled toward the desk. I scowled at her, refusing to play into her tactics. “Your lovely face?” She chucked me under the chin as if I were a child. “Perhaps a nipple?”
    Before I realized what she was doing, she reached to the front of my sweater and scraped her curved fingernail across my nipple. Her nails were long and red, like enameled claws. A shuddering sensation ricocheted from my nipple to my groin. Damn her. Damn my frisky nipples. I slapped her hand away in outrage.
    She laughed. “Liked that, did you?”
    “Keep your repulsive hands off me.”
    “Or maybe Ethan wants to keep your tits to himself. He always was a breast man. Has he pierced your nipples yet? Led you around on a leash? Ethan and his pets, he’s so adorable with them. Well, so be it. He can keep your precious breasts. Maybe he’ll offer me your pussy, or