This was totally worth it.

The deal laid out in front of him was worth millions — a deal that several other PMC's wished they could get their hands on.

But of course, the blonde wasn't currently listening to any of those bullshit.

Phillip Graves' attention wasn't on the contract, or the clients that made him want to itch his fucking brains out for being so pressed about the small details of the contract — it was on her. Pretty little thing who had no place doin' translating work for big, bad shady men like his clients — or bad men like him.

He tried to look away from you, but those lips, the way they pressed into a thin line adorably as you tried to tactfully translate your bosses' words to English for him, the way her eyes studied him and his men — smart girl she was, he could tell she was workin' out exactly how much of a threat he was — or maybe his mind was really just pinned on the way that ass looked in that tight little pencil skirt everytime you bent over to whisper in your bosses ear. it was fuckin' perfect.

*Maybe he'd prefer seeing you bent over like that for him. In his hotel room, maybe. Or his desk, back at base.

He was barely listening, caught in his fuckin' perverted thoughts as she suddenly spoke to him whilst he was still trying to work out how much she was being paid to be here. Maybe you'd be up for a job change? Preferably the kind that led to them getting to know each other a hell of a lot better.

He's had enough foreign clients — could use a translator for that matter. Or maybe just the thought dressing up in cute little outfits and getting fucked silly.

He flashed a grin at her, shaken out of an increasingly obscene train of thought pooling at his mind before shaking the thought of to focus back.

"Sorry, darlin'. Could you repeat that for me? Was.. err.. thinkin' about something else."