Page 70 of Broken Boss

Pushing myself up off the sofa, I stride into the kitchen and grab my cell.

“What are you doing?”

Autumn follows, arms wrapped around her curvy waist, head tilted curiously. I can’t get over how much I love the juxtaposition of her as a lawyer and her at home.

I’d love to be the one she comes home to. To be the one who peels her out of those office clothes, down to her sexy lingerie, get her in a hot bubble bath at the end of the night.

Then naked, preferably in my bed.

“I’m texting Rupert. He has access at home and can send the files over tonight.”

“What? No, Chris, it’s Saturday?—”

“And a good time to start. Monday I’ll have to focus on my other cases for most of the day. Why not start digging in now?”

She looks at me, biting her lip in a way that makes my heart ache.

“Why are you doing this?”

The answer comes easily.

“Because I’d do anything for you, Autumn Cooper.”

Her eyes widen just enough that I can tell it hit home.

This time, she believes me.

But will she let me get closer?

Will she let me love her?

Chapter 23

Autumn

Rebecca, a junior associate, is going over her research Wednesday afternoon when my stomach starts to roil.

Not again. Please, not right now.

My body clenches tight against the nausea. Turning back to the screen, Rebecca pulls up an impressive list of stats. She’s dealing with a murder investigation under Ian Reeves, another senior associate close to retirement. Rebecca has been gathering info to support their case that this was a mistaken identity.

I’d be impressed if I wasn’t also about to spew lunch all over the conference table.

Marty, directly across from me, picks at a loose ball of burrata cheese. My mouth waters in protest and I start to stand.

“Excuse me. Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

Ignoring Chris’s eyes on me, I skirt the back of the room, exit, and practically jog to the bathroom. Luckily, I make it to the stall before lunch comes right back up.

The stall door swings open behind me; I hadn’t had time to lock it. Knees braced on the cold tile, heels sticking out oddly, I retch again and almost miss Saskia’s timid voice.

“Autumn? Are you okay?”

There’s no way she doesn’t see me beneath the stalls, so I sigh, one hand holding onto the wall and the other to the toilet roll holder.

“I’m fine, Saskia. Just not feeling well.”

Her flats slap on the floor as she comes farther in. “Are you sure? Do you want me to call anyone, or get someone?”

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