If someone told me the woman I was about to hook up with was actually my new assistant, I might’ve held back — wild hair, gorgeous curves, and eyes like the moon be damned. But no one told me. There were no flashing signs, no neon lights. Just a bottle of scotch and a body I wanted to bury myself in. So I did. Her working for me made things easier at first. I convinced myself that I could keep her around and not blur the line between business and pleasure. I was the heir to a multi-million dollar agency, after all. I had everything I five brothers, more money than I knew what to do with, and the freedom to travel the world in search of beauty. So what did I care about the beauty right in front of me? As it turns out, I cared a lot, and the “Yes, Sirs” dripping freely from her lips were unraveling me. She was mine, convention be damned… and I was going to take her.