Carlos's POV
While Grace sat somewhere, wrestling with confusion and heartbreak before finding her resolve, Amara and I stepped into my office.
I shut the door behind us and gestured toward the guest chair across from my desk. "Take a seat there."
Amara glanced at the chair, her lips forming a bratty pout as she shook her head. "I don't want that chair, Mr. Benjamin. The cushion feels awful."
"Awful?" I already sensed where this was heading. This woman couldn't contain herself for five minutes. Being in the same space as her made my stomach turn. "Fine. Use the sofa then."
"That one's no good either."
"Where exactly do you want to sit?" I asked, moving away from her and settling behind my desk.
A wicked smile spread across Amara's face as her gaze dropped shamelessly to my thighs. My tailored pants hugged every contour, the fabric molding perfectly around my legs and... other areas.
