Page 12 of Broken Boss

His eyes narrow. “How do you get here every day? How do you get home?”

“The subway.”

He looks briefly surprised. But surely he must realize that not all of his employees can afford a car and parking in New York?

After a pause, he licks his lips and repeats, “Just tonight. Let me drive you home. It’s cold out.”

I look out the window, which isn’t helpful. We’re above the tops of the trees lining the street. I know he’s right, though, because fall has really settled in and cold wind rattles through the streets. If I take the subway, I’ll be running two blocks in heels, in the dark. What would Orla say?

What if this is your in?

It’s like she’s standing right next to me, only this time, it doesn’t seem like such a ludicrous idea…not with the way Chris’s dark eyes are watching me.

His hands, closed into fists, flex. The tendons standing out do something to me, send a rush of a warm twist to my core.

“Okay. Just tonight.”

Is this a dream or a nightmare? Chris nods and gestures for me to lead the way to the elevators. I can feel him close behind me, hyperaware of his body as he follows me into the small space.

The scent of his expensive cologne has me breathing deeply, wanting more of it.

“Here,” he says, reaching out. “Let me.” His hand wraps lightly around my forearm, caresses down, over my wrist and hand…and then he carefully plucks my purse away.

My pulse pounds in my ears, warnings going off. I blink rapidly and try to stick with logic. Chris wouldn’t try anything, not here. He wouldn’t hurt me. That’s an old fear that’s on me; Sharpe might be a billionaire asshole, and my boss, but he’d never physically hurt me.

The doors open and we both step out into the main lobby, Chris leading the way to the doors that go to a small parking garage. Just another example of how endlessly wealthy he is—the firm has its own garage, a luxury in the city.

“This way.”

I follow his broad shoulders, the overhead lights dim and dragging shadows over his body. An excited shiver goes through me at the thought of a fast car ride home with him, but I push it away.

If I’m going to do this, I need to have control.

We stop next to a forest green Rivian SUV. Who knew Chris Sharpe, big shot city lawyer, was environmentally conscious? He opens the passenger side door for me and I slip in, all too aware of how high the skirt rides up on my legs.

He bends to put the bag at my feet, looking up with those dark eyes. My breath catches. Part of me longs for his hand to drag up my calf, delve under my skirt…

Control. Be in control.

Chris pulls back, a smug look flitting across his face before he closes the door firmly and goes around to the other side.

Once he’s in, he’s all business. Seat belt fastened, car on, lights on, pulling smoothly out of the spot reserved just for him. I start to relax back into my seat. It’s definitely warmer in here…or is that just the anticipation of what I plan on doing before the night is over?

There’s just one problem. I don’t live too far away from the firm. Less than a ten-minute drive, at least, so I direct him in the general direction and then?—

”Here. Turn in here.”

He looks at me sharply. Because I’m indicating a small, dark park with a cramped parking area.

“You don’t…?”

He wants to know if I live in the trashy brick apartments bordering each side of the park. I shake my head.

Then I reach over and slide a hand onto his thigh.

Through the fabric of his trousers, muscles tense.

“Autumn.”

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