Page 54 of Playboy Boss

Spinning around just before she reached the front door, she held her hands up, making contact with this chest. “Stop it! Stop being sweet, Konrad. That makes it harder to not like you, to not want you.”

“You don’t have to go. You don’t have to make a decision about me this very moment.”

Their eyes met, lingered. Would she stay? He had no idea. He knew absolutely nothing about what she would do or say.

“I work for you.”

“You work for A-Plus Temporaries.” The need to take her in his arms was intense, but he didn’t dare touch her, not after she dropped her hands from his chest.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned it.”

“I don’t feel the same as before.” Words flew from his mouth, words he should have kept inside. “I don’t want to be who you think I am.”

“But you are.” Her voice was soft.

When she turned, he felt the biggest hole in his chest emerge. Complete emptiness inside. And just like that, she was on the other side of the door. His forehead fell against it after it closed.

In a whisper, he said, “You’ll see. I’m not.”

****

In the morning, Konrad opened his eyes, despite the brutal sun slicing in through the opened blinds in his bedroom. He reached for his phone, checking for Scottie’s response to the text he’d sent her after she’d left him.

Me: Please let me know you’re safe.

Nothing. She’d not responded. She might regret giving him her number, because he intended to contact her whether she wanted him to or not. He put his fingers on the screen, typing another message, then rereading it twice but not pressing send.

Instead, he deleted his overly emotional message. God, this was not like him. And, fucking hell, it was such torture to feel the way he did—out of control, desperate, needy, yearning. It all sucked.

He typed a message to Dallas instead.

Me: I need a cocktail. Brunch?

He glanced at the clock. It was after ten in the morning. He normally didn’t sleep that late. Usually, he’d been to the gym by then.

Dallas: I’m down. Mariposa? I need to talk hotel stuff with you.

Me: An hour.

Dallas: Cool.

An hour later, Konrad sat at the Halman Hotel bar. Dallas had already arrived and was typing on his computer into a maps and navigation application.

“Running comps?” Konrad sat next to him at the bar where they’d met so many times before. He nodded to the bartender, Bea.

“Bloody Mary?” she asked from across the bar.

“Yes, love.” Konrad slapped Dallas on the back. He’d hoped the short drive to the Museum District would calm him. It had done the opposite. He wanted to expel everything that happened. “How’s it going, mate?”

“Not bad, my friend.” Dallas looked up from the laptop, the sun rays catching his brown eyes. “I think I got us a better location. It’s not on the market yet. I got a tip.”

“Tips are good.”

“Indeed.” Dallas turned his laptop toward Konrad. “You know the Le Petite Moreau?”

“Of course. It’s a world-renowned posh boutique hotel. Why?”

The Bloody Marys arrived, set on thick monogramed coasters. Dallas lifted his glass to Bea. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

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