Page 12 of My Forbidden Boss

That’s bullshit. I don’t care how tired my employees are, I still expect them to do their job. They’re adults and know the score.

I order my coat from the foyer, notice her shiver when we’re outside and the crisp air makes goosebumps break out on her smooth pale skin and plop my coat on her shoulders. She looks up at me, mouth falling open looking uncomfortable. “You don’t have to. I’m fine.”

She goes to take it off and hand it back, as though it’s an offense to be warm. “What part of ‘I don’t want my employee sick’, didn’t you understand? Give the coat back to me tomorrow.”

I’m mad at Bourke and I’m taking it out on her. Mad at him for looking at her like he did, which is all kinds of fucked up. Besides, the primitive part of me likes her in my coat. I’ve succumbed to the basic needs of pissing on my territory. I’d be delighted if she slept in it.

“I…well…” she looks around, a little lost. She offers me a shaky smile. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr Chandler.”

“Call me David,” I say. That’s plain stupid. I expect all of my employees to be formal with me and when she calls me David tomorrow it’ll be obvious. I’ll think of an excuse later. I like my name on her lips. I’m the damn boss and I can do whatever I want.

Except when it comes to naive, young employees.

My teeth clench so hard a headache throbs behind my eyes.

“O…okay. I’ll see you tomorrow…David,” she says. She starts to walk away in the opposite direction to the cab rank.

She’s not catching a cab? In this weather? “Where are you going?”

She half turns, looking over her shoulder. Even frowning, she’s stunning. “I’m going home?” She says it like a question, probably doesn’t understand what to do given my insane possessive alphahole routine.

She didn’t want a drink because she couldn’t afford it. She hasn’t got a coat despite it hitting freezing point. She’s probably not catching a cab because I only gave her one cab pass and she used that to get here.

She’s so woefully under prepared for this city, it’s not funny.

And how is that my business?

Why did I only give her one cab pass?

“I’ll take you home,” I say and call for my car. An attendant races off.

“I don’t want to put you out. I’ll be fine. I live close to a train station,” she says and I wince. Catching a train. In New York. At night.

My Mercedes S-Class pulls to the curb and the attendant gets out. I gather her elbow once more, direct her to the car and help her inside. The hem of her dress rises up her leg, revealing smooth muscle and supple skin. I pretend I don’t see as she tugs her skirt down when all I can do is stare. I heave my gaze to her face, pretending to be unaffected. “It’s no bother, Miss Rayner.”

She stops the door as I close it. “If you insist on letting me call you David, please call me Adeline.”

This woman is going to kill me. My lips curve of their own volition. “It’s no bother, Adeline.”

I close the door and it snaps closed with a quiet tap. I tip the attendant before I get in. Her stomach growls louder than the motor as I pull into traffic. She puts her hand over her middle, wincing and smiling when she notices me staring at her.

“Sorry,” she says, as though hunger is something to apologize for.

“When was the last time you ate?” I said, thinking she was hungry when she walked into my office all drowned rat and nervous tension this morning and how much it bothers me that she’s still hungry. I didn’t catch her eating lunch. I would know because I stared at her all day and I’ve taken her away from an assured dinner.

“I…have noodles at home.” Fucking noodles? She didn’t answer my question, which is an answer in itself. Too long. She’s been hungry and cold and I’ve been ogling her like a degenerate.

I angle the car downtown and park in front of my go-to restaurant, Gino’s, where the food is filled with home and garlic and I wonder why I’m bringing her when I bring no one here. This is my restaurant. My secret place that’s not Blue Sky or clients or anything business-related.

I never brought Samantha here.

I’m crossing a line, but it’s blurred.

I usher Adeline in, noting the way she looks around her, curious and taking everything in. The way I like my coat hanging off her delicate frame. The way my stomach is stone-free with her being here. I put my hand on her lower back and guide her to my favorite table and settle her in a chair and pretend this is a real date.

She’s small-town young innocence unlike the worn-down rabble I left behind at the gala. All hooks and claws and judgment and schemes. Max Bourke can’t reach her here.

Then I put it all together. Small town. Max Bourke. My reason for attending the gala. The proposal I want to secure for Blue Sky.

---