Page 19 of My Bossy Billionaire Attorney

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because you had a peculiar and somewhat disturbing attachment to it?”

Her jaw tilts to the familiar stubborn angle, and seeing her in the mirror, I almost give in to the smile tugging on my lips.

“I didn’t want to give it up because I deserved it. And he was an asshole. I don’t think that counts as a stubborn attachment, Mr. Stone. And you should know—,” she bites her lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But you’re right. The ring was the reason I barged into your office. If I had returned it, that would have never happened.”

Why does hearing her agree with me make me a little disappointed?

“I don’t know,” I rub my chin, “you did say it gave you an insight into the kind of person I am. The hypocritical boss whoacts kind and charismatic on the outside but is mean and terrible behind closed doors.”

“My bad,” she says. “I read too much into what I thought was right. But it wasn’t. I apologize again.”

I should let it go now, seeing as we’ve reverted to the employer-employee relationship where I have the respect I deserve, but for some reason, I don’t want that.

“I met with your brother. Stepbrother. I congratulated him on making partner. Did you know,” I see the look of anger that flashes on her face, but it doesn’t deter me, “that he is one of the youngest partners at the firm?”

“But I always knew he would reach this stage earlier than most. When we met in college, he was among the brightest in his class. When he went to law school he was top three in his class,” I continue.

“Why didn’t you,” I turn to her, “go to law school?”

Savannah’s jaw is visibly clenched, and her face is red, telling me she’s livid and close to losing it.

Good. A little payback is what she needs right now. Maybe she will know that I mean business.

“I don’t think we should talk about Peter, sir.”

The doors of the elevator open, and she steps out. Without thinking, I get off, too.

“Why—this isn’t your floor,” she says, turning around.

I shrug. “I can go anywhere I want, Miss Richmond. It’s you, who was on the floor. Do I need to ask what you were doing there?” I scold her.

“Did you come to spy on me again? Were you disappointed when you saw Brenda at her desk?”

My eyebrows dip when she doesn’t answer.

“Miss Richmond?” I press her.

“Sir.”

“Did you try to get into my office?”

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“Who knows, I’m not sure why you do anything you do. You’ve made accusations, snuck into a private office, and declared that an attorney is unfit for a promotion. Who knows what you will do next,” I tell her.

She shakes her head.

“I wouldn’t. I didn’t. I promise not to come within ten feet of you again. I value my job very much.”

Does she? I ponder as she walks away, finally letting her go. Why has her attitudechanged?

It is suspicious, but I’ve gone too far, indulging myself with this charade. Savannah Richmond is an irresistible force of delightful chaos, a captivating whirlwind I seem to keep getting caught up in.

With a chuckle, I turn around and head in the opposite direction. When I get into the elevator, my phone rings.

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