Working for Colton Knox was both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because the guy was a great boss. I'd been flown all over the world on his private jet and seen places I could only dream about, all on his dime. I'd met kings and queens, rubbed elbows with the socially elite, and been gifted with bonuses that would make most people swoon with envy.

It was a curse because my boss was drop dead, catch your breath, gorgeous from the top of his six foot three inch blonde head to the bottom of his perfectly formed feet. He had soul deep blue eyes and a cocky grin that brought mortal men and women to their knees.

And he was woefully, horribly straight.

I was Knox's right hand, his executive assistant. I was supposed to be an extension of the great man, the one who kept his world in order. I did everything from organizing his schedule to picking up his dry cleaning to bringing him soup when he was sick.

I'd been his executive assistant for coming up on five years, longer than anyone had ever lasted with the man. I'd seen him do wild things, crazy things, but I'd also seen him to wonderful things like buy a burned out building in a poor neighborhood and turn it into a park and community garden. I'd seen him take a profit loss just so he could make sure all the workers in a factory he'd bought had jobs.

I'd seen him to a lot of things that the public never saw.

To the world, Colton Knox was a playboy and business tycoon. To those loyal to him—like me—he was like one of the Gods of Olympus come down to mix with mere mortals. He had the Midas touch. Everything he touched turned to gold.

He was a billionaire with a drop dead gorgeous smile and a body made for sin.

And he was still so very, very straight.

Which brought me back to why today was a curse. One of my jobs as Knox's executive assistant was to make sure his hook-ups knew that was all it was. A one night stand. Knox was not shopping for a bride, despite what his mother thought.

Pricilla Knox was the embodiment of a society matron. She'd been Daddy's little princess, a debutant, Miss America, a then the wife of a prominent Senator. She attended social functions, charity events, and worked on her husband's campaigns.

Her one remaining goal in her life was to see her one and only son married off so he could give her grandchildren, which was apparently part of the whole society matron package, one she was currently missing out on.

The perfect little senator's wife.

And she saw me as a roadblock keeping her from reaching that goal.

Normally, Pricilla equated me to a piece of functional furniture. Most of the time, she ignored me, except for when she was trying to get in touch with her son and felt I was in her way. Over the last five years, I'd learned how to keep my mouth shut, no matter how much I wanted to tell her to go stuff it.

"No, ma'am," I said as I let myself into the executive suite of the Knox Grand Hotel. "I haven't seen him since he left for the charity ball last night. If I do, I'll be sure to let him know you called."

"I must talk to him, Newton," Pricilla said. "It's imperative."

"I'll pass on the message, ma'am."

I heard a soft chuckle when I rolled my eyes. I didn't turn my head to look simply because I did not want to lie to Knox's mother. I hadn't seen him since last night, even if I knew he was standing just to the left of me.

Pricilla hung up without saying goodbye.

I slid my phone into my pocket. "Do I see you or not?"

Amusement was clear to hear in the man's voice when he replied, "You see me, Newt."

I turned to look at the great man, and then wished I hadn't. He was dressed in his tuxedo slacks from the previous night, and nothing else. His only accessories were the watch his father had given him when he turned twenty-five and a cup of coffee.

All that glorious skin.

Damn.

"You're mother called, sir," I said as I walked over and handed him a suit bag.

Knox arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "You don't say."

"She wants you to call her. She says it's imperative."

"Thank you for passing on the message."

I glanced toward the double doors that led to the bedroom. "Breakfast or no breakfast?"

"No breakfast. I'll be on the balcony having coffee."

Knox turned and walked out through the double glass doors that led to the balcony, shutting the doors behind him. His absence from the room told me all I needed to know.

I walked through the bedroom doors then paused at the bottom of the bed and looked down at the sleeping socialite splayed out on the mattress.

Norah Bradley. I should have known. She'd been trying for ages to get her hooks into Knox. I seriously doubted she understood the position she was in. By denying her breakfast, Knox was basically saying he didn't want to be around her a second more than he had to and she would not get a repeat performance.

I almost felt sorry for her.

Not.