Yvette tried to stop Hawthorne, but Hans stepped in to block her path.


    "Miss Yvette, please, let''s be reasonable."


    Her heels clicked to a halt. "What''s that supposed to mean?"


    Hans couldn''t exactly spill the truth—that Mr. Everhart and Gwh were already


    married. The couple hadn''t made any public announcement, and as an assistant,


    he''d sooner lose his job ten times over than leak something like that.


    "Use your head," he said, tapping his temple. While Yvette stood there, stunned


    and speechless, Hans hurried after Hawthorne.


    It took Yvette a few minutes to process what just happened. Then it hit her—


    Gwh must have seduced Hawthorne. That had to be it. Why else would a


    man like Hawthorne keep someone as troublesome as Gwh around the


    Back at her desk, Gwh had barely settled in when Hans came looking for her.


    "Ma''am, Mr. Everhart is waiting in the lounge," he murmured, voice so low it was


    almost a whisper.


    Curious coworkers pricked up their ears, but Hans was too discreet. Gwh


    stood and followed him out.


    Inside the lounge, Hawthorne sat fidgeting with an unlit cigarette, his usual


    her into his arms.


    "Are you hurt? Did anyone threaten or trouble you?"


    He fired off questions so quickly that Gwh finally realized—he must have


    heard about the ident.


    "Leonie told you, didn''t she?"


    Who else could it be?


    "If she hadn''t, what were you nning to do? She made it sound like someone


    tried to kidnap you. Did anything happen?"


    Gwh smiled reassuringly. "Do I look like something happened to me? The guy


    said he was just messing around. He had me drive the car to the office, then


    caught a cab and left."


    "He just left?" Hawthorne''s


    expression darkened. It couldn''t be


    that simple. Word was, the guy was


    a young kid with a shy sports car,


    wouldn''t pay for damages, and now


    this? What was he really after?


    "From now on, if you want toe to the office, you eithere with me or let


    Hans drive you," he said.


    In other words, her own driving days were over. Gwh''s face fell immediately.


    Wasn''t that a bit much? It''s not like she couldn''t afford to fix the car.


    Hawthorne saw her reluctance and reached out, his sternness softened by a hint


    of affection.


    "Come on, sweetheart. Sports cars aren''t meant for girls, especially not ones like


    you. I just can''t rx."


    Gwh wanted to argue. After all, she was a two-time ry world champion—


    what was there to worry about?


    "If you really want a car, I''ll get you something electric, and it can''t go over sixty


    miles an hour."


    Gwh could already picture it: a cartoonish electric car, huge and clunky,


    probably with some ridiculous antenna on top.


    Just kill her now. She''d rather walk than drive something that childish.


    "No, thanks. Hans can drive me," she said, choosing the lesser evil.


    "Deal."


    With that settled, Hawthorne ruffled her hair and pressed a quick, feather-light kiss


    to her lips.


    "Go on, get some work done. Don''t


    overdo it. If you get bored, y on


    theputer for a bit, but don''t butt


    heads with your coworkers. Drink


    plenty of water. Don''t let them dump


    extra work on you. Do your job, but if


    it''s too much, just remind them


    you''re the boss''s wife and let them


    pull their own weight."


    Gwh pinched her brows together, silently protesting. Hawthorne nced at


    Hans, who stepped in smoothly.


    "Ma''am, I''ve stocked the right-hand


    desk drawer with snacks. If there''s


    anything else you want, just let me


    know and I''ll get it."