Page 36 of My Forbidden Boss

David sees nothing of that and I reach for that nectar with greedy, grabby hands.

The phone vibrates in my bag. My blood goes arctic when I see the number. I decline the call, surprised my thumb can sweat when my blood is permafrost. Seconds later, a message appears.

SD: Report. Now

I couldn’t save Max’s name on the phone. SD for sperm donor is all he gets. He’s called several times during the week and I’ve ignored him. The usb sits like a red hot coal in my bag, hot enough to sear a way through earth into hell and take my soul with it. I clench my fist to stop my hand from shaking. I can’t dodge him forever. I wish I could, but I’m grown up enough to realize fairy godmothers don’t bother with people like me. Cinderella was a lie.

“Everything all right?” David asks.

He picks up on my nerves, because of course he does. He’s always watching. Always seeing.

I offer a smile that’s more a wince. “Just my friend. She’s worried about her Mom.” Best to mix the lies in with the truth.

“Won’t be long. You can call her straight away when we get there,” David says.

I tingle and my core throbs, anticipation like rocket fuel in my blood. I breathe in his masculine spice and I’m dizzy. Reality mingles with disbelief. That this man who knows the world is interested in me. I have nothing to offer in return, so I’ll take what I can get however I can get it. I’m going to be selfish like that until I’m forced back into the dark pit life carved for me.

SD: Think of your mother

The effervescence drains from my system when my attention pulls back to the cell. Foolish to ignore the reason I’m here. My path was only put in front of David because of Max. Lies built on deception. Guilt raises its ugly claw and plunges into my heart.

Me: I’m working on it

SD: Work on it faster. The deadline is coming up

Me: I’ll find something soon

I wait, air stuck in my lungs, but there’s no reply. Frost crawls from the phone.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” David prompts again.

I shove the phone in my bag. “All good. Where are we?” I take note of the beautiful buildings, the trash-free sidewalk, the doormen standing in the cold opening doors for people.

“My condo,” David says.

We pull up in front of a building with a green cover over the doorway. It’s held up by brass poles. The white lettering says Eleven Fifty Fifth. A valet approaches the car from inside the building. David opens the car door for me before the man can reach us. The cold air slices into the heat of the car as I hear the man say. “Good afternoon Mr Chandler.”

“Good afternoon, Mike.” David gives the man the keys to his car. He looks official in his uniform with a little logo on the chest.

“Do you need your car tonight?” Mike asks.

“No. You can park it securely,” David says. He stretches out his hand, I take it and he helps me from the car. I’m dressed in my second-hand clothes, ready to clean the fireplace, but it’s like I’m wearing the ball gown. Head to the happy end of the book because David’s my crown prince and I’m ready to stick my foot in that glass slipper.

“All good, sir.” Mike steps to the driver’s side and gets into the car.

The doorman opens the door with a welcoming smile. His gaze slides over me. Professional because there’s no hitch or half shuttered blink, and we’re into the elevator and David’s taking me to the eighth floor. The doors open and we’re in a carpeted hallway. My feet sink into the thick wool and my heart thuds as David leads me to a door painted white. It’s all understated paintings on white walls, artisan plaster work and fresh paint in this hallway. Nothing like the gray bricks, fluorescent lights, and concrete floor that makes the lightest step echo down the length of the halls in my building.

David opens the door to his condo and I step into a fantasy. It’s welcoming and warm, with a white a thick cream rug on polished boards, charcoal leather sofas and gleaming occasional furniture. I glimpse a fireplace, a large flat screen television and a green houseplant. Light streams through a window that overlooks the greenery of the park across the road and I’m way out of my depth. But then I don’t think of anything more as David catches me against the wall when the door clicks quietly shut.

The sounds of the traffic are muted below. It’s quiet enough the rush of blood in my ears is a roar. My bag drops to the floor, my fingers unable to hold the strap. I sag against the plaster, glad it’s strong enough to keep me upright because my knees are globs of putty.

David stares at me, eyes liquid with need. The same need that pulses inside me.

“Need you,” David rasps.

I’m tired of being the girl that’s rejected.

I want to be the girl who’s loved.

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