Page 37 of Rich and Bossy

“I really am.”

“Okay good, I just had to be sure.”

It’s the simplest decision I’ve ever made in my life. I don’t care how many interviews I have to give. How many hands I need to shake. I don’t even care that they might paint me as an absolutely horrible person. This is bigger than me and it always has been—and this sort of opportunity doesn’t come around more than once. “Thank you. For helping me.”

“Thank you for reaching out. We’ll get to work, soon.”

CHAPTER 9

Paxton

It’s official.I’ve become a stalker.

I’m using my precious time on a Sunday, the one day a week I do nothing but watch football—at least during the season—and the day I play with my nephews, to track down Hazel during her shift.

That’s right. I went so far as to look at her schedule because that’s how obsessed I’ve become. I couldn’t even believe it. I thought she usually watches the games with her old man. That’s what she said. But I guess sometimes she has to work during the games.

What the hell am I doing here?

She’s haunting me. My every thought, always hovering in the back of my mind. Distracting me at the worst possible times. I can’t fucking focus. I can’t sleep. I’ve barely made it through all my conference calls this week.

I don’t know much about addiction, nobody I know has really suffered from it, but there’s one thing I know about me: tell me I can’t do something, and that’s all I want to do. That’s what Hazel is. Forbidden. There is no way in hell I should be driving to ourwarehouse, trying to manufacture an excuse to be there, just so I can see her.

I wish Rapid could afford to give all employees Sundays off, but the business couldn’t function. It just wouldn’t be possible. There are always packages to be loaded, shipments to be fulfilled. Twenty-four seven, it never stops. There are still days when I have to remind myself this is real, that John and I built all of this from nothing.

No matter what Hazel or anybody else says, I still believe we did a good thing. Not to mention the fact that we employ hundreds of thousands of people now. Yes, over a hundred thousand. We have also made it possible for tens of thousands of small businesses to flourish on our platform. We don’t discriminate against our suppliers. Anyone can sell on there. We did that. We made that happen. How many millionaires are millionaires now because of us? We take a small percentage of each transaction, but way less than they’d get squeezed by the big box stores. We changed the game, and since then we’ve raised the bar for other retailers. It’s a win-win all the way around. Who wouldn’t be proud?

People can buy stuff cheaper and faster because of us.

I’m not too happy about having to drive this BMW around, but the Charger draws too much attention. It’s kind of loud, and I didn’t want her to see or hear my car and go into hiding.

My stomach knots up when I flash my security badge and pull into the lot. Hazel’s shift starts in ten minutes. I remember her car from the parking lot at the office store—it’s not here yet, telling me I have time to kill before she arrives.

I’d think a model good worker like her, would show up fifteen minutes early to get a start on her day. No, no, she’s defiant. She won’t give this place one extra minute of her time. Not without a good reason anyway.

I sit back, grinning while I wait for her to pull in. Things ended well between us last week. Honestly, I didn’t want them to end at all. I wanted to take her home with me.

My fingers are still itching, every second of the day, at how close I was to kissing her. Then, when the second guy knocked her into my arms. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to just hold her there, against me. She’s so petite, and soft, but still firm.

It felt right, her wrapped up in my arms. I have no idea why. I’m being reckless and stupid, I know that, but I can’t stop myself.

My heart shouldn’t leap into my throat at the sight of her beat-up little Volvo, even though it does.

Even dressed in warehouse gear, complete with that bright vest and the work gloves she has to wear to protect her hands, helmet on, she still looks like she could be a runway model. The best part is, I don’t think she has the first idea how gorgeous she is.

Everything about her intrigues me. Her fire, her spirit, her looks.

Most women who talk to me are so vapid. It’s completely obvious they’d like to find some way to get me to marry them, so they can automatically secure themselves a small fortune.

Not Hazel, though. She’s not like that. She doesn’t care about that kind of shit.

I made sure to position my car where she’d walk right in front of it, without noticing me.

You shouldn’t do this.

You can still leave.

This is a horrible idea.

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