Page 2 of Her Boss

I almost laughed at the false bravado, sadly all too common with women of her age cohort. At least her spirit was lively.

“Do you always come when a strong man commands you?”

Her mouth actually fell open at my blunt words, her lashes fluttering, and it was only through sheer willpower that I didn’t smile in amusement.

“What, um… what’s that supposed to mean?” She looked back at her friends, and they burst into excited tittering I couldn’t quite hear over the driving four-on-the-floor rhythm of the music.

I looked her up and down, noting the lack of tattoos, the dark shock of long, lush hair pulled up in a messy bun rather than teased to the stratosphere, and saturated with the ubiquitous, hideous glitter. Her eyes though, they truly drew me, the haunted, almost melancholy light in them something that she could never hope to hide.

Especially from those of us who were quite comfortable swimming in those very same dark, troubled waters.

For the first time all night, I finally found someone that was genuinely interesting.

For now.

CHAPTER 2

Geneva

I didn’t know what it was I expected when I went to the club that night, but it sure wasn’t to meet a man who did two things exceedingly well—intrigue me and scare me.

I tried not to be a cliché, the dumb little girl, the slut, the jaded vixen with Daddy issues, the prima donna, or the sullen malcontent. I thought of myself as just a regular girl, someone who, like all my other friends, was looking for that indefinable something that we couldn’t quite put our finger on… but that we knew was missing from our lives, nonetheless.

I think if I’d realized what that man truly was to me when I’d seen him across that smoky dance floor, the lasers dazzling my eyes so much that he looked almost like a shimmering ghost, I think I’d have walked right out of that club that night. After all, when one encounters a person who is the embodiment of their nemesis, the personification of that moth-to-a-flame metaphor, one is always better off going in the opposite direction. Aren’t they?

Unfortunately, I wasn’t known for making the best decisions when it came to myself. How many twenty-one-year-olds were?

Still, when I laid my eyes on him, interested was a massive understatement. He was tall and lean, but not so much so that it appeared he spent too much time in the gym. Instead, it was as if he were a thing of pure nature, his mouthwatering form cut from something hard and unyielding—and mean.

Like steel—or bad intentions.

In his case it was probably both. In any other situation seeing a man crook his finger at me as if I was some stupid little girl would have had me either flipping him off, or going over and letting him know in no uncertain terms that whatever it was he thought he was doing, it was a very bad idea indeed.

But instead, I’d just… done as I was told. What did that mean? What did that say about me that a man I had never met before—hell, a man I’d never even seen before, was ordering me around as if he… controlled me?

Owned me.

Doesn’t say anything good about you, that’s for sure.

Even with that knowledge, I thrilled at watching him watch me, my legs seeming to take me toward him of their own volition, whether or not my head or my heart had any objection to such an outlandish thing.

And I found myself standing right next to him, silent, waiting for him to say something, anything, to break the tension that had ratcheted higher and higher with each step that brought me closer to him.

“What’s your name, girl?” I should have been irritated at his use of the diminution ‘girl,’ but I recognized it for what it was, a subtle gauge of my attitude. I’d seen it before.

He glanced away, but it wasn’t at all out of nervousness or timidity. Instead, it was loud and clear I-don’t-give-a-shit energy. And yet, that he was focused intently on me was something I knew. I didn’t quite know how, but instinctively, I was certain of it.

“You first,” I said, letting a bored drawl slip into my tone.

“Rick. Now, answer my question—and don’t answer mine with another question.”

I grunted, feigning irritation, but watching closely for his reaction. “Geneva.”

“Like the city?”

“Maybe.” I considered whether it was a good idea to tell him, as I still hadn’t nailed down the control freak vs. psycho assessment of the man. “I usually just go by Genie though.”

“Why?”

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