"You taste much better than your boss, Helena."
Helena froze.
The words echoed in her ears, sharp and impossible.
Your boss.
Not "your assistant."
YOUR BOSS.
Her mind stuttered, trying to process. The pleasure still pulsing through her veins made thinking difficult, but the words cut through the haze like a knife.
If he thought she was Vivienne Vanderbilt... if he believed she was the CEO... he would have said "better than your assistant."
But he didn't.
He said "your boss."
Which meant...
'Oh God.'
'He knows.'
Helena's breath stopped.
Her eyes, still glazed from the denied orgasm, snapped into focus with sudden, horrifying clarity.
He knew.
He knew she wasn't Vivienne.
He knew she was the assistant.
He knew everything.
Every word she'd spoken. Every command she'd given. Every moment she'd felt powerful, in control, victorious...
He'd been letting her.
Playing along.
Watching her perform.
The realization crashed over her like ice water.
