Page 9 of One Wicked Night with the Boss

Outrage scalded me. At the same time, my nipples tightened. Because my body was clearly operating independently from my brain. I lifted my chin and met his gaze head-on. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re spying.”

“I’m not—”

“Give me the phone. Now.”

I twisted away from him. “I’m not giving you my—”

In a blink, he reached around my waist and plucked the phone from my grasp. At the same time, he released me and stepped back.

“Hey!” I made a grab for my cell.

He sidestepped me easily, his gaze on the screen. He tapped it a few times, clearly deleting the photos while I stood fuming and helpless. When he seemed satisfied, he looked up and met my gaze with a cold stare. He held out the phone. “You’re fired.”

The lights flickered.

I barely noticed. My hand shook as I snatched the phone back. “I quit.”

“Get your things and go.”

Half a dozen insults crowded my throat, but I swallowed them all. The sooner I got the hell out of there, the better. I slung my bag over my shoulder and grabbed my portfolio. Without a single look in his direction, I marched to the library doors and flung them open.

His footsteps sounded behind me. Was he going to follow me all the way to the elevator?

Whatever.

Indignation seared my veins like gasoline as I left his office. He was hot on my heels, but I ignored him, instead focusing all my energy on exiting the mansion before I did something stupid like break down crying. Sure, it was wrong to take photos of his work without permission, but I meant no harm. He didn’t even let me explain! He was influential in architecture circles around the country. One word from him could trash my reputation forever.

I reached the elevator and punched the button. Its gears were loud in the cavernous, empty space, and the car seemed to take forever to reach the third floor. At last, it shuddered to a stop.

Shit.I had no idea how to operate an antique elevator. I stared at the grate, my throat growing thick and my eyelids prickling.

Without saying a word, Jonathan stepped around me and slid the grate open.

I pressed my lips together and got inside, tucking myself in the farthest corner. He followed, then fiddled with the controls. The elevator lurched. Even though I was prepared for it, I still jumped and clutched my bag. A heavy silence filled the small space as we descended.

Just get through it.I only needed to keep it together another ten seconds or so. After that, I never had to see Jonathan Barnes again.

The lights flickered.

Again.

Again.

And went out, plunging the car into darkness.

I gasped.

Jonathan cursed.

The elevator jolted to a sudden stop, throwing me off balance. I flung out an arm, my bag swinging wildly, and braced myself against the paneling. Before I could celebrate not falling on my ass, the car shuddered and rose slowly into the air.

Jonathan swore again. As my eyes adjusted, he was a dark silhouette in a gleaming white shirt.

“What’s happening?” I demanded. “Why are we going up?”

Suddenly, he was beside me, his hands on my arms, the heat from his palms warming me through my shirt. “Hold tight. It’ll be a rough stop when we get to the top.”

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