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The Fighter's Secretary

By:Ann Mayburn

Chapter 1

Dallas Ortega glanced over at his chief of security, Richie Wells, and  let out a long sigh. "Did you find out who stole the nipple clamps?"

They were in Dallas's office on the top floor of one of the best office  buildings in downtown Miami. The space had a killer view of the ocean,  and was a far cry from the ghetto of Chicago where he'd grown up. On the  wall hung various pictures of him in different tournaments during his  time as a professional fighter, along with mementos from his seven-year  career using his fists to make his fortune. But thanks to one concussion  too many those days were behind him now and he'd successfully made the  transition from fighter to businessman. Well, financially he'd made the  transition, personally he'd never be comfortable with wearing a suit and  sitting behind a big desk all day. Thankfully he had a great staff  working for him that took care of the boring bullshit so he could focus  on trying out new products and inventing new gear and equipment for  fighters.

But someone with access to his office had stolen a six-thousand-dollar  diamond and gold pair of nipple clamps out of his desk. He'd ordered  them ten months ago for his skank ex-girlfriend, Tammy, before he'd  found out she was a cheating bitch. It didn't take her long to show her  true colors by fucking one of Dallas's old rivals in the UFC, Kyle. But  now they were gone and he had no idea who could have taken them.

When the nipple clamps had arrived a couple weeks ago he'd admired them,  then tossed them into his desk, not wanting to deal with the painful  memories they brought up. But now one of his friends in the lifestyle  wanted to buy them and they were nowhere to be found. It was like  anything that had to do with Tammy was cursed.

Just the thought of his ex made his stomach lurch. Tammy lived for the  press and attention that came from dating a UFC champ and now that  Dallas was retired he couldn't provide her with the fame that she craved  like a drug. She was the ultimate arm candy, a former ring girl and  supermodel beautiful. She was also a master manipulator and loved drama.  When they'd been together he hadn't realized just how much she'd been  pretending to be someone she wasn't, but less than a day after he'd  announced he was retiring for good she was fucking Kyle and preening on  his arm at press conferences. Turns out she'd been screwing a bunch of  UFC fighters behind Dallas's back and he was just thankful he'd never  had unprotected sex with her.

Fucking bitch.

Richie cleared his throat, drawing Dallas back to the present, and an  uncharacteristic flush burned on his chief of security's tanned cheeks  as he glanced behind him as if to make sure the door to Dallas's office  was closed. "Yeah, I found out who took them, but … it's not like you  think. And you can't be fucking pissed off at me when you see the  surveillance footage. You asked me to find out who did it, and I did.  But I'll let you know right now that you have the only copy of it and I  will never speak of it again."

Disconcerted, Dallas leaned forward and nailed Richie with a glare that  had made more than one grown man tremble in fear. "What's going on?"

Running both his hands through his blond hair, Richie lifted his chin in  the direction of the monitor on Dallas's desk. "Well, it's no secret  how crazy possessive you are of your secretary."

"Amanda is not my secretary," came Dallas's automatic reply. "She's my  personal assistant. If she hears you call her my secretary she'll have  your balls in her purse."

"Look, man, just watch the tape. And remember, I didn't know what was going to be on it."

"Wait, are you saying Amanda took them?"

Disbelief filled his voice and he immediately rejected the idea. If  there was one thing he knew it was that his prim and proper secretary  wouldn't jaywalk, let alone steal from him. Amanda was as straight as  they came, a good, classy woman to the core and so far out of his league  that it wasn't funny.

Being not only the head of his security but also his best friend, Richie  was more than aware of Dallas's one-sided attraction to the beautiful  woman. When she first started working for him six months ago he'd hit on  her and been shot down time and time again. She saw him as nothing more  than a muscle-head man-whore, and he had to admit that he'd slept with  more than his fair share of very willing women after his breakup with  Tammy. He wished he could go back in time and not come off like such a  player when they first met, but that wasn't going to happen.

He'd give up the entire business empire he'd paid for with his blood and sweat, all up for a chance to win Amanda's heart.         



Too bad that was never going to happen. His girl could freeze ice cubes  with her glare and it was almost like she had some invisible force field  that kept men away. Then again, anyone who came near Amanda Dallas  usually warned off, quickly. This was his woman, even if she didn't know  it.

Richie sighed then actually flushed. "Jesus Christ, just watch the  fucking tape, Dallas. I'll be over here in the corner protecting my  balls."

Dallas blew out a harsh breath and turned his attention to the monitor,  clicking Play as he leaned forward to watch the surveillance footage.  The time stamp showed it was four days ago, and from the angle of the  camera he could see his desk and the big leather couch that sat up  against the far wall. A slice of the floor-to-ceiling windows that  showed the dark sky beyond with a few lights shining here and there was  at the very edge of the frame. The video was surprisingly good and when  motion came from the corner of the camera's view he leaned forward,  surprised when a moment later Amanda came onto the screen with an armful  of folders.

A quick glance at the time stamp showed that it was past eight o'clock  at night and he wondered what the hell she was doing there until he  remembered that the next day he'd had a big presentation to some  potential investors. Amanda had, with her usual efficiency, provided him  with everything he'd needed to wow the investors. With a wince of  chagrin he realized that he'd only told her about the meeting two hours  before the end of the day. She'd obviously stayed late to get the  presentation together without him knowing.

His gaze devoured her as she moved with liquid grace across his office  and he couldn't help but grin when she frowned and bent down to pick  something up off the floor. It was the black T-shirt he'd worn that day  and forgotten to pick up when he'd changed before leaving work to meet  with his mother at a nice restaurant for dinner. Amanda looked stunning,  as usual. All long legs and elegant bone structure, with the prettiest  pink lips he'd ever seen. She never wore a drop of makeup, not that she  needed it. The Asian heritage she'd gotten from her mother was evident  in her porcelain skin and the slight tilt to the green eyes she'd  inherited from her American father.

Dallas knew all about Amanda's family, had made it a point to get to  know everything he could about her. To say he was slightly obsessed with  her was an understatement, but he'd managed to keep himself under  control around her. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off by  coming on too hard. So he kept his flirting playful, letting her think  that he was just messing with her, but fucking hell he wanted those long  legs wrapped around his waist in the worst way.

After tossing his T-shirt onto the sofa he heard her sigh. Not realizing  the tape had audio as well he turned the speakers up. Amanda set the  folders on his desk then moved around to sit in his chair. She opened  his file drawer and began to mutter something that was no doubt not a  compliment on his filing abilities. He tended to just dump shit in his  drawers, which never failed to piss Amanda off. She said trying to  organize his life was like trying to herd a six-year-old hyped up on  Pixy Stix.

She opened the top left drawer then began to pull out piles of paper and  he felt a momentary pang of guilt at the fact that he was such a slob.  Then she paused and he could hear her softly say, "Holy shit."

Richie cleared his throat. "Remember, I didn't know what was going to happen."

"Shut the fuck up," Dallas murmured as he watched Amanda take the nipple clamps out.

They were actually quite beautiful, made by a jeweler who specialized in  BDSM gear. Dallas had been a sexual Dominant for most of his adult life  and enjoyed buying his submissives nice things. The nipple clamps were a  thumbscrew design, a solid gold chain connecting them, with small  diamonds embedded into the clamps themselves. They sparkled as Amanda  held them up to the light. His heart raced as he wondered if he was  about to see the woman he was pretty sure he loved steal from him.

If he'd lived to be a million years old he'd never have guessed what she did next.

Instead of slipping them into the pocket of her conservative black suit  jacket, she ran her fingers along the length and gave a soft, definitely  sexual moaning sound that made his cock instantly rock hard.

Then she whispered, "Oh, Dallas, you are a bad boy."