Page 6 of The Boss' Pet

I don’t know who V is, and I will likely never know. This is how we keep one another safe, by cloistering ourselves in an impenetrable blanket of privacy. No personal information is ever requested, or shared.

I fell into Libraryleaks after a bad breakup left me feeling like I didn’t have much purpose anymore. I thought I was going to get married, have kids, the usual fulfilling stuff. But Trent left me feeling far too fucked up and broken to even think about attempting anything like that again.

I log off and spend the rest of the day thinking about how I am going to make this drinks date with Marcus Waterstone count. The idea of seducing him comes to mind, though I don’t know that I have the nerve. I can’t imagine he’d want to fuck someone like me. He probably has a girlfriend in every city block—though I suppose availability of options never stopped Trent from being an unfaithful bastard.

CHAPTER 2

Charlie

I head back up to Marcus’ office just before seven. The office is just as busy as it was earlier in the afternoon. I would put money on the fact that the employees here work close to twenty-four/seven. They might take shifts, but this is a business that never sleeps. It’s too powerful. More powerful than any government you might care to name.

I’m starting to get nervous again. What am I doing? How on earth am I ever going to outplay someone like Marcus Waterstone?

I’m fretting about that question when a large hand comes down on my shoulder.

“Miss Crown,” he says.

I turn around to look up into his eyes. He really is very tall, and very imposing, and there’s something knowledgeable in his dark eyes, as if he possesses information of the kind I’ll never be able to handle. I should be careful when I’m playing with monsters.

It’s safe to say he looks nothing like my ex, but for a brief moment, I get a flash of anxiety. Am I safe? Will I ever be safe again?

“Come,” he says, speaking to me not unlike I am a dog. He turns around and walks toward the elevators. I follow on his heels.

We get into the elevator, just the two of us, and he presses a button. I thought we’d be going down, but instead he presses the button for the highest floor. Interesting. I wonder what’s up there. I wonder if anybody officially knows what’s up there.

“Oh, wow!”

The elevator opens onto a gorgeous rooftop bar. It is empty, without so much as a bartender. I wonder if he asked for it to be private.

This is about the most romantic setting I have ever been in. The city is laid out beneath us in a glimmering grid that speaks to order and chaos at the same time. There’s something about watching dusk turn to proper night and seeing the lights of the city get brighter and brighter that enchants me. I am in the very heart of power right now, at the nexus of so many roads and flows of capital and influence. It is all quite overwhelming.

I realize I’ve wandered off from Marcus. I just had to go to the edge of the building and look over. There’s something about a city view that always awes me. You only get it from really tall buildings like this one.

Marcus appears beside me with a glass of white wine in his hand. He gives it to me, not asking if it is what I want. I could be offended by his assumption, but I’m not in the mood for arguing right now.

“So this is your world. Everything and everyone at your feet. Like an emperor, only better, really.”

“It is a good life,” he says, in what must be an incredible understatement.

“It’s a life almost nobody will ever live,” I muse. “A life so exclusive, there’s probably only a handful of people who know enough to understand it. Is it lonely?”

“What a question,” he says. “You do have a talent for blunt inquiries, Charlie.”

“Maybe.” I smile, sipping my wine. It’s delicious. Or maybe it tastes like paint stripper. All wine tastes pretty much the same to me. “Mmm,” I say. “Delicious.”

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying that,” he says, sweeping the glass away from me. “No need to fake pleasure with me.”

Another one of those very hot flushes rushes through me. There is intimacy in every one of his words, and in the way he is looking at me. A light wind ruffles my hair and plays with his dark mane. He really is an incredibly handsome man, and I cannot believe I have him all to myself up here.

“Thank you so much for agreeing to keep talking to me,” I say, instantly awkward. “I know the interview today was a little…”

“I agreed to take you out for a drink,” he says. “I will have to find a beverage that will suit your tastes. What would you prefer? Scotch? Bourbon? Chocolate milk?”

He’s teasing me.

“We’re not going to just sit and drink in silence, are we?” I ask as I follow him back toward the bar. I assume this is usually tended by a third party, but tonight Marcus plays bartender.

“Something sweet for you, I think,” he says, reaching for a bottle of Kahlua. “Are you able to tolerate lactose?”

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