Page 60 of Her Boss

For you at least. I doubt he cares one way or another. How do you know he sees you as anything much more than a hot piece of ass?

And that was the biggest single issue—I still didn’t have a clue as to his true motivations, what he was really after in getting involved with me. Even if he was just looking to get his dick wet, some casual fucking… I might even be okay with that too.

But I needed to be sure we were both looking for the same thing.

“I can’t just go with you anytime you like… I do have a life. Other things I need to take care of.”

“Do you though?” He dropped to a knee, looming over me, his fingers grasping me by the chin. I opened my mouth to tell him to let me go, but his lips claimed mine before I could speak a word.

I tried to pull away, but he held me fast, a grumble of warning a subtle admonishment that I was to let him do what he wanted with me. His tongue slipped between my lips for just a moment, as if to make a point that it was territory he’d already claimed, that he merely sought to remind me of that reality.

He pulled back, glaring at me. “You need to get that shit straight in your head, girl. You are mine now.” His hand plunged between my thighs, palming my already heating sex. “You seem to get that here already.” Then he tapped a knuckle against my forehead. “It’s here where you still have things confused.”

He rose to his feet once again. “I’ll be out in the car. You have four minutes. If you take longer than that then you’re going to be getting a more painful tour of my house than I’d originally planned.”

Then he was gone, the hinges creaking slightly as the shabby office door slammed shut behind him.

CHAPTER 29

Geneva

Rick turned the wheel, the engine of his Audi taking on a satisfactory note roaring to life as he brought the car up to speed. Heading out from the city center, and into the suburban areas that formed the outlying part of the metro area, the finely manicured lawns and pristine homes began to slip away behind us, until the surrounding countryside hurtling by was almost entirely rural.

The wind whistled past us, the leaves of the trees reduced to a verdant blur rushing by outside as we sped along the two-lane highway. There was a strange tension about Rick’s frame, his grip on the steering wheel tight and determined, but I decided discretion was the better part of valor and didn’t ask about it. Something more innocent was called for.

“Where are we headed?” I asked, my voice betraying an unease that had been slowly growing inside of me since he’d first told me what he intended.

Rick didn’t answer at first, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “My place,” he finally muttered, his voice almost too low to be heard over the purr of the engine.

“I know that. What I mean is, where is that?”

But he didn’t answer me, so I gave it up for the time being. I’d learned already when he wasn’t in the mood for questions.

I watched as we drove along winding country roads, eventually entering an increasingly dense and seemingly endless stretch of forest.

When we reached Rick’s secluded home in its exclusive gated community, he drove up a long driveway that wound around in front of what I could only term a large manor house. The place was stunning, a marvel of intricate stonework and striking architecture on the one hand, yet still evoking an appealing modern look on the other.

Rick killed the ignition, hopping out, motioning for me to follow him inside. I hesitated for just a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping out.

“You live here?” I said, half to myself.

Rick nodded. “On occasion. Come on.”

It seemed so impossible that someone like him—someone so stoic and serious—would let someone like me inside his world.

But he was doing exactly that.

As he opened the door to his home for me, excitement built inside me. Despite our age difference, our contrasting life experiences, whatever it was between us was something I desperately wanted to work—even though I couldn’t quite put into words what it was I sought from a relationship with the mysterious, taciturn man.

You’re just his toy, remember?

But what did it say about me that the thought of being Rick Trafford’s toy no longer seemed so bad after all?

What it says is that you’re out of your mind!

Inside his home, I found an incredible interior, richly decorated walls in warm tones contrasting with large windows letting in plenty of light. Though the house was mostly empty it still felt lived in, comfortable, supremely inviting.

Rick walked ahead of me, his steps echoing through the halls as he took me on a brief tour throughout the immense place, until we reached what I assumed was some sort of study at the far end of house.

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