Chapter 12: The Wrong Boss: Chapter 12

There were a million things more worthy of my time than tagging along to go to some print shop that hadn’t managed to get a couple hundred wedding invitations right the first time around. A million things that would keep the company running, that would help me run the business that had been entrusted to me by my only remaining family member.

A million things that I’d ignore time and time again, because the minute Carrie had walked out of my office, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.

Her skirt hugged the generous sweep of her hips as she entered the elevator, and I remembered how it had felt to sink my fingers into those curves, to run my thumbs over her hipbones, to spread her wide so I could taste her. For the first time in—God, how long had it been since I’d been this turned on? How long had it been since raw need had consumed me, forced me to turn away from all the things I told myself really mattered?

Long enough that the brush of her sleeve against mine sent my heart racing.

She smelled sweet and delicate, but when I looked at her, her face was pale with splotches of red. Frowning, I studied the glassy look in her eyes and worried that I’d given in too easily about calling an ambulance.

“How are you feeling?” I repeated.

She blinked back to herself, as if her mind had been far away, and met my gaze. “Great.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Carrie.”

Her lips rolled inward, but her eyes flashed. A jolt of…something…went through me. It wasn’t lust, exactly. It was the weight of seven years pressing down on me.

But it wasn’t seven years. It was one night. Not even one night. A handful of hours we’d spent together. How could this woman have such an effect on me now?

And it wasn’t not lust. In that skirt, with her preppy little blouse and her pinned-back hair. I knew what she looked like mussed and boneless on a bed beside me. I knew how good it would feel to strip off those clothes and get her there again. That knowledge burned through me like embers that just wouldn’t die.

“When’s the wedding?” she asked.

I jerked and tore my gaze away from her. “Next spring.”

“Oh, beautiful. I love a spring wedding.”

I hummed. Guilt churned inside me, because what the hell was I doing, lusting after someone who wasn’t my fiancée? That wasn’t the kind of man I was. I didn’t stray. Loyalty was one of the only things that truly mattered to me. That’s why no matter what reputation I had about being hard on employees, I was still able to grow this company to new heights every quarter—because once they proved themselves, I’d walk through fire for them. I was loyal to the people who were loyal to me.

And that included the woman I’d promised to tie myself to for life. I wasn’t a cheater. Never would be.

“You?” I asked, my voice rough.

“Hmm?”

I nodded to Carrie’s hands. “Are you married?”

“Oh.” She laughed. “No.”

“Something funny about that question?”

Tilting her head from side to side, Carrie gave me a rueful smile. “Let’s just say I’ve accepted the fact that I might die alone.”

“I don’t remember you being this grim when we first met.”

She twitched, as if any reminder of our previous encounter was a sore spot. I scowled, not liking that. Not liking it at all. But Carrie straightened and shot me one of her smirks and sideways glances. “Are we going there, then?”

Before I could answer, the elevator doors opened, and my hand found its way to her back again. I could feel the strap of her bra beneath the thin fabric of her blouse, and I cursed myself for noticing. As soon as we were out of the elevator, I dropped my hand.

Carrie was attractive. I could admit that to myself without betraying the promises I’d made to Alba, couldn’t I? I could notice the way her smile lit her eyes, could watch the way her hips swayed with every step. I was a man, after all, and I wasn’t blind.

“This way,” I said, leading her out the lobby doors and into the waiting car. My regular driver nodded as we entered the vehicle, closed the door once we were inside, then circled around to the driver’s side. The privacy screen was up, and the back of the car felt close and intimate with Carrie so near. I could smell the sweet scent of her, mingled with the leather of the seats.

She clipped herself in and folded her hands on her lap, as prim and proper as I knew she wasn’t. Her gaze was glued to the tinted window beside her, and I caught myself staring at the line of her neck, the delicate golden chain dangling between her collarbones, the way a tendril of hair had escaped her bun.

I couldn’t work with her. The realization hit me like a truck. I couldn’t spend my days in my office above her and not find myself standing at her desk just to catch a glimpse of the light in her eyes. It would be unbearable to be in the same building as her and know that I couldn’t have her.

I felt like a desperate, hungry animal who’d just caught the scent of the hunt. It was a wild song in my blood, a calling that drew my gaze to her, made my fingers itch with the need to touch and claim her.

And I hated myself for it.

She wasn’t mine. I’d already made my choice, and I wasn’t a man who betrayed his promises. I’d already been betrayed and lied to too many times in my life, and I’d never be someone who did that to others. I wouldn’t do it to Alba, or my father, or anyone else.

That meant Carrie couldn’t work for me—it was a simple calculus with a clear answer. So why did it make me feel sick at the thought of saying it out loud? I didn’t even know her.

The car started moving, slipping smoothly into the flow of traffic, and Carrie inhaled, braced herself, and turned to face me. “Should we talk about it?”

“‘It?’” I repeated.

A flush ruddied her cheeks, and an answering rush of warmth went through my gut. I liked that look on her. Carrie kneaded her hands together and threw me one of the insolent glares I discovered I still enjoyed. “Should we talk about the fact that we’ve met before?” she clarified.

“Did a bit more than meet, don’t you think?”

“You’re dodging the questions.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Nice to see you haven’t changed,” she quipped, arching a brow.

Her words caused a full-bodied reaction inside me that I desperately tried to hide. My cock went hard in an instant, throbbing against the placket of my pants as I shifted in my seat. My pulse began to thump, and my fingers tingled with the rush of my blood. She’d enjoyed that game as much as I had, all those years ago. Enjoyed me teasing her until she begged.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t enjoyed it too. The memory had sustained me for a long, long time. I’d thought of her voice when she gave in to me every time I took myself in hand for years, until it was almost pathological. Until I knew I had to stop or drive myself mad.

Now she was here, and for a million and one reasons, I couldn’t have her.

Clenching my jaw, I looked out the window. “I’m guessing by your reaction in my office that you didn’t know who ran the company when you accepted the job.”

“Actually, fainting when I come face-to-face with my boss is a somewhat regular occurrence.”

Glancing over at her, I caught the impish light in her eyes as she bit her bottom lip. “Is it?” I drawled.

“Yes. No need to feel flattered about my reaction to you.”

I snorted.

After a short, tense pause, where I tried to get my body back under control and ignore the press of her presence beside me, Carrie said, “Is this a problem for you? The fact that we have—history.”

Glancing over, I saw her watching me. She still had that incisive, all-seeing gaze, the one that had me spilling my secrets at a hotel bar within an hour of meeting her. The one that saw through to the core of me and led to me telling her about my adoption, my conflict with finding my birth family. If she hadn’t looked at me then just as she was now, I’m not sure I would’ve had the courage to contact my father. I wouldn’t have met his business partner. Wouldn’t have accepted the position at his company and worked my way to the top. Wouldn’t be engaged to Alba.

I owed Carrie all of that, because she’d seen me and challenged me when I needed it.

Maybe that’s why I said the opposite of what I knew to be the responsible choice. I heard myself respond before my brain caught up. “Our history isn’t a problem,” I said. “You impressed me this morning with the travel arrangements.”

Carrie let out a breath of relief. Her hands relaxed their grip on each other, and she leaned her head against the headrest. “Good. I was worried you were going to fire me like you did poor Alison.”

“Poor Alison?”

“Alison Bronson? The woman I replaced.”

“Oh.” I waved a hand. “She made too many mistakes. Couldn’t keep up.”

“Noted,” Carrie said, voice wry. “I’ll try to keep my fuckups to a minimum.”

“Do that, and your job is safe,” I replied, which wasn’t exactly what I’d intended to promise her when I got in the car. But who was I kidding? I wasn’t going to let her slip through my fingers a second time.

Wait—no. That wasn’t what I meant⁠—

“Okay,” she said. “That’s good. So do we just…keep things professional?”

I blinked slowly, turning my head to meet her gaze. “Did you have something else in mind?”

What the hell was wrong with me? Why did words keep falling out of my mouth?

Her blush was quickly replaced by a beautiful, ferocious scowl. “No,” she said forcefully. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. Kaia was asking if we knew each other.”

“Kaia should mind her own business.”

“I think her questions were fair, considering what happened in your office.”

“Kind of sounds like you’re blaming me for the fact that you fainted.”

“I’m not blaming you,” she insisted, frustration lacing her words. “And besides, I’m not the one that went all he-man protector and carried me over to the couch.”

“He-man protector?”

“You were all over me!”

“You had a medical emergency, Carrie.”

She waved a hand. “I was a little lightheaded.”

“You were a little lights out, is what you were.”

“That doesn’t mean you had to freaking carry me to the couch and cradle me while you fed me sips of water and mixed nuts.”

“I’m not sensing a lot of gratitude for caring for you while you were in distress.” I snapped my fingers. “But that’s not actually surprising, is it? We met because you insisted on trying to get stabbed by a drug addict, and then you had the audacity to get mad at me when I saved your life.”

Outrage made her eyes lift to a brilliant shade of pale gray. “When you saved—” She cut herself off and ground her teeth. Her hands clenched and unclenched on that tight black skirt of hers, and I realized my breaths were coming fast. My pulse pounded in my neck, my thighs, my toes—and I was hard as stone.

I hadn’t been this turned on in years. Seven years, to be exact.

She inhaled slowly through her nose and let the breath out again. Then she licked those pink lips and turned her dangerous eyes on me. “Thank you for your concern,” she enunciated. “I do appreciate the fact that you took the time to make sure I was okay.”

“That sounded painful,” I noted, enjoying myself far too much for this to be healthy.

Carrie’s chest rose and fell with another breath, and I watched her gather herself. “We need some ground rules.”

“Do we?”

“Yes. So we can form a good working relationship.”

“This isn’t how these conversations typically go when I’m talking to employees in my own company. I’m the one who makes the rules, Carrie.”

I could practically see the rags of her patience disintegrating. Why was I enjoying myself so much? Why couldn’t I stop needling her until she gave me a reaction? And why was I so fucking turned on by every single thing she did?

“Your executive assistant pool is short-staffed,” she finally pointed out, voice calm. I saw a determination in her gaze that I liked far more than I should. She said three words that hit me in the gut: “You need me.”

That was truer than she even knew. “Do I?” I asked.

“Yes. If you fire anyone else, you’ll have all kinds of issues with travel arrangements, meeting scheduling, phone screening, and general office mechanics. Not to mention wedding invitations and couriers.”

“You’re so sure of that after working for me for a handful of hours?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “You need someone who can step in and solve problems, like I did this morning. Someone who’s good at their job. Who will do what’s required and not need to be extensively trained and coddled.”

I sat back, mulling over her words. She was right. We both knew it.

“So,” Carrie continued, “Despite the fact that many years ago, we had a…”

I let the sentence dangle, wanting to know how she’d qualify what had happened between us. I arched a brow and was rewarded with a narrowing of her eyes.

“Despite the fact that we slept together,” she said plainly, and I appreciated that she didn’t dance around the issue. “I think we can come to a mutual agreement. An agreement with ground rules.”

I realized I was smiling and tried to wipe it off my face as I nodded. “Fine.”

“Things are strictly professional from here on out.”

“I agree.”

“Good. If our past becomes fodder for office gossip, it’ll reflect badly on both of us, but mainly me.”

“Worried about your reputation?”

“I’m worried about how my reputation can impact my ability to do my job. Without respect, I can’t build relationships. Without relationships, I can’t solve problems the way I did this morning with your travel arrangements.”

I couldn’t help but admire her for that assessment of the situation. It was the kind of clear-eyed analysis that I did on a daily basis which had allowed me to make quick decisions in business. I realized that in the years we’d spent apart, she’d kept that stubborn streak and molded it into real strength. I liked that.

And she was right. If word of our past got out, it would affect her far more than it would me. I didn’t like the idea of that happening.

“So,” she continued, “the past should stay in the past.”

There was a note in her voice that made me think she didn’t quite believe what she was saying, but her jaw was set and her gaze resolute.

“The past is in the past,” I agreed, even though my ribs constricted as I said it.

But she was right. We’d had one encounter seven years ago, and we’d both moved on. I did need her, and I suspected she needed this job more than she was letting on.

“Good,” she said. “That’s settled.”

Judging by the fact that my mind and body were at war, it was far from settled between us—but there was wisdom in her words, and I couldn’t think of a good reason to contradict her. Besides, a part of me—a not-so-small part of me—felt relieved at the fact that I’d found her. That she’d be close. She wouldn’t disappear from my life for the second time.

Maybe getting to know her would cure me of this attraction. She’d become just another employee. We’d have a steady, professional, respectful working relationship. The desire I felt for her was simply the hard outer shell of calcified memories, and it would break down the more time we spent together. The image I’d built of her in my mind would disintegrate, because I’d see her flaws, her imperfections. The pedestal would shatter, and my life would go back to normal.

Right?

Silence settled over us as the flow of Manhattan traffic brought us to the print shop. Carrie jumped out while my driver opened my door, and we made our way inside together. I watched her take charge of the situation, already aware of the changes that Alba wanted to the invitations and ready to check over the new invitations that were in the process of being printed.

She bent over the counter, checking every word and floral detail, a wrinkle between her brows as she concentrated. Then she passed it over to me, and I cast a quick look over the card.

“Looks fine,” I told her and the clerk.

“The color of the gold is right?” Carrie asked.

I glanced at the invitation again. It looked fucking gold to me. “Yeah.”

“Last few are coming out of the printer,” the clerk said with a sigh of clear relief. “I’ll pack everything up for you.”

Ten minutes later, Carrie had a bundle of invitations, envelopes, and labels tucked under her arm. When we got to the car, she tried to hand them over to me.

I blinked at the package.

“Don’t you want to take these home?” she asked, frowning. “I can jump on the subway and head back to the office.”

Oh. Right. I’d forgotten why I came on this little field trip, probably because there was no real reason to be here other than the fact that I’d needed to be close to her.

I took the parcel. “I’ll take them home tonight. We can head back to the office together.”

She nodded, curt and businesslike. “Works for me.”

This was the shape of our new relationship. It was coldly professional and utterly appropriate. It was exactly the right thing to do, and it made me feel like shit. As we drove back to my office building, I watched pedestrians on the street, bike messengers, and the never-ending flow of traffic, but I saw nothing—not even the car speeding down the cross-street on Carrie’s side of the car.

Not until our driver tried to swerve out of the way, jerking me back to the present. A moment later, the crunch of metal and rubber and fiberglass rent the air.