Page 16 of Secret Bump

“Mine,” he admits readily. “But I needed to give you space. If I’d stayed, you wouldn’t have been able to focus on your job.”

“I wouldn’t have?” I arch my eyebrows. I don’t care that he’s my boss. I don’t care that he’s the CEO of the company, that he pays my pay checks, that he’s two decades older than me and more experienced in every way.

Today is the first day past my probationary period. I’ve made sure that I’m protected, that my contract means he can’t fire me unless I don’t do my job, and I do my job so, so well.

I have from the very first day, and I would have continued to do it well even if we’d explored the connection I thought we had.

But then he ran away.

I lift my chin. “I didn’t know you thought so little of my ability to multitask, Mr. Emerson.”

“Call me Mack,” he says under his breath. “Please, Isabelle.”

“No, thank you,” I say primly. “You are my boss, and nothing else. I would prefer to remember that going forward.”

He stands, and for the first time, I notice that he’s thinner than he was when I met him. And he’s got dark circles under his eyes.

I don’t care.

I mean…I do. Of course I do. My heart wants to tear itself out of my chest and feed him something. He’s been working too hard and not resting enough, clearly.

Oh, how I would love to curl up in bed with him and take a long nap. We both need it.

But Mack made his choice. In his eyes, it is either work or love, and he chose work.

So he’s not Mack.

I can’t care if he’s tired.

He’s Mr. Emerson, and the only thing I need from him is my next assignment.

Chapter 10

Mack

There’ssomething profoundly different about Isabelle. She’s fearless, yes, that’s part of it. But there’s something else that I could probably put my finger on if I wasn’t so fucking exhausted.

I haven’t slept properly in months. Not since I left for an extended tour of my manufacturing facilities and international operations.

Within days of leaving, I knew I had to come back. I thought about it morning, noon, and night. I stayed away because I thought that was what she needed.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

“We should talk in my office,” I say gruffly. “It’s more private.”

“What… Why does our conversation need to be private?” Her voice wavers, but she doesn’t stop glaring at me.

I lower my voice. “I came back for you.”

She shakes her head. “You came back for yourself.”

“I came back foryou,” I roar. Already out of patience, a terrible sign. “Enough. It doesn’t matter. You need to come with me.”

“No.” She swallows visibly. “I can’t. I have work to do.”

“You work for me, and I need you to come with me.”

“Where?”

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