“We are beyond late.” Trevan states flatly as the limo steadfastly doesn’t budge in the New York traffic.

His assistant Tristan squirms in the seat running the long side of the limo. “I’m sorry, sir, it seems a pipeline busted not to long ago.”

“It’s not your fault. Although I can think of some things we can do to pass the time.”

“Sir? In the limo?” Tristan’s low whispering voice is comical considering it’s absolutely unnecessary.

His answer is really rather simply.

Leaning forward he snatches the lapels of Tristan’s suite pulling his assistant and fiancee to straddle his lap.