Page 21 of Borden 3

I thought for sure I would find sleep here, in the safety of my husband.

I didn’t, and I was glad.

I didn’t want to be buried all over again.

Chapter Eight

Emma

“Did someone stick a sign on my fucking forehead?” Borden asked in that impossible to read tone.

I blinked hard. “No one stuck anything on your forehead.”

“Then why do you keep staring at me like a little hussy?”

“I asked you a question and you didn’t answer.”

Borden looked away from the paperwork in front of him. His face was creased with stress lines as he turned and finally paid me notice. “What’s going on?”

“It’s payroll and Linda wants a raise,” I said for the tenth time.

“Didn’t she already get one?”

I stifled a sigh. “A year ago.”

“How much does she want?”

“At least 3 percent more.”

“At least?”

I nodded, smiling sardonically. “She specified ‘at least’ 3 percent more to cover the therapy she’s going to have to pay for dealing with all your misogynistic business contacts that have been frequenting the club.”

“If this is about the bikers—”

“Borden, the guys you deal with are real pricks.”

“You’re my bookkeeper. You don’t deal with them.”

“Linda does,” I pressed pointedly.

“Since when are you defending her?”

“She’s the manager. No one can do what she does.” I relaxed back in my chair, levelling him with a no-bullshit stare. “Remember you said that your employees were your assets.”

His voice was dry. “I was speaking to a pervy doctor at the time.”

“She constantly has to speak to your pervy business contacts. Frankly, she chose 3 percent because she's hinting you're a cheapskate.”

Borden returned to his paperwork. I knew he was looking at proposals from acquaintances he’d made recently on his trips. He didn’t like me looking at them. With a bored voice, he said, “She’s being dramatic.”

I looked back at my screen. “I’ll give her a five percent pay raise.”

“Now you’re being dramatic.”

I didn’t respond as I plugged in the numbers.

“Emma,” he murmured.

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