Page 43 of Forbidden Boss (Manhattan Billionaires)

“Um. To…live?” I laughed. “An apartment. I have to move out of mine by the end of the month.”

“How come?”

“The owners are moving back in. It’s a real shame because it was a rent-controlled place, and my living costs are going to skyrocket now.” I grimaced. “Not that that’s your problem.”

“I’ll talk to Clara. She’ll sort something out.”

Warmth spread through me, but still, this job had fallen into my lap. I didn’t want to tie my living situation to it as well. Then if things went wrong, I’d be inreallybad shape. “No, that’s okay?—”

“It was inconvenient for us to pick you up in Brooklyn. We’ll get somewhere on this side of the bridge so we don’t have to drive so much.” He stood and stalked to the office door then poked his head out. “Clara. Find somewhere for Jordan to live. Somewhere we don’t have to cross half the city to get her to an event on time.”

I scowled at his back. He sure had a way of making a favor from him sound like it was my problem.

When Clara called out an answer, he crossed back to the couch in front of me. “Next weekend is the anniversary party at Garcia’s place in the Hamptons. We’re going to have to address the perfume bottle incident.”

“Right,” I said, trying to follow the subject change. We were done talking about personal issues, it seemed. Back to work. “I’m guessing he was angry about the damage?”

“We’ve been working on a CGI version of the commercial, but the man is obsessed with authenticity. We need to wait for a new bottle, and I know he’s getting antsy. He’ll have to delay his launch because of the mistake.”

Because of my mistake, he meant. Guilt squirmed through me, and I shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was an accident.”

I straightened. “You mean that?”

His gaze settled on mine, and he arched a brow. “Off the record, I do.”

A smile twitched at the corners of my lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I won’t say it in your lawyer’s presence.”

My smile widened. “You think he’s that much of a shark?”

“I think I’m done being squeezed for all I’m worth by opportunistic women in red lipstick.”

“Opportunistic!” I protested, even though it was true.

“Don’t play the innocent doe. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I think you’re mad you didn’t intimidate me.”

He scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I wasn’t trying to squeeze you for all you were worth?”

The flat look he gave me was answer enough. I shrugged, not wanting to protest too much. If he wanted to think the worst of me, that was his problem. Wanting to escape his incisive gaze, I rooted through my purse and pulled out a little plastic packet containing two chocolate chip cookies.

“What are those?” Rome asked, frowning.

I lifted the packet. “These are my emergency cookies.”

He blinked. “Emergency cookies?”

I nodded. They were the hard kind you got at the grocery store with the chocolate chips that tasted kind of bland and waxy, so not ideal, but that was why they were emergency cookies. “For when I need a snack,” I explained. Or something to do with my hands when faced with a large predator sitting on the other sofa. A predator who was shifting and leaning forward.

Before I could open it, the package was plucked from my fingers. “What the hell is this?”

“Hey! Give those back!”

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