Page 8 of A Bossy Proposal

“Call me as soon as you get into your room,” Carly tells me as she slams the door.

I nod as the driver asks for my destination.

I realize I have nowhere to go. The tears I’ve been holding back fall, hot and heavy, down my cheeks.

“Just...drive,” I choke out.

But as the cab pulls away from the curb, a familiar face exits the club. My boss, Westley Davenport, of all people.

I stare out of the window. Our eyes meet briefly before the cab whisks me away into the night.

My phone buzzes in my purse, and with shaky hands, I pull it out and read the message.

Mr. Davenport: We’ll talk on Monday morning, 8 am sharp.

Chapter 4

West

It’s 7.45 am and I clutch the coffee holder, bearing two steaming coffees. One with extra milk and sugar. The other is a skinny latte that my executive assistant, Amelia, prefers.

The elevator doors open. I glance ahead for a moment before I make my way down the corridor.

Seeing Amelia dancing at Club Elysium on Friday night is still a shock. And I should never have followed her out of the club. I should’ve remained hidden, watching her. But the moment she felt my eyes on her, I knew she felt me too.

After all, hundreds of people were in the club on Friday night. Hundreds of people could have been looking at her. But I know she felt my gaze on her body.

But did she catch Felix cheating on her?

I take a deep breath as I saunter into the office, coffee holder in my hand.

“Good morning, Mr. Davenport,” Amelia says as I slide her large coffee across the desk to her. As I do every morning.

“Good morning, Miss. Ross. You look…” Tired is what I want to say, but I don’t want her to think she looks bad. “Busy…” I glance at a list of apartments on her desk that I assume she’s just printed off.

“Oh…mmm…I’ll look at these on my break.”

“Problem?”

I wait for her to tell me about Felix. The same Felix Featherstone I hate. He is an arrogant Wall Street financier who earns a mid-six-figure income. He is also the man I hope is now her ex-boyfriend.

“No. Everything is perfect,” she says, giving me a fake smile.

I try not to grind my teeth when I say, “Good.”

“Do you still want a meeting at eight?” I expect she is wondering where the conversation will lead us. But I need her to know that whatever she thinks she saw must stay between us or forgotten about altogether.

I’m also wondering what happened between her and Felix.

Yet, the one thing I can’t forget is her body as she moved to the music.

I clear my throat, and all those thoughts from entering my head.Get a grip, West.“Yes. I need to make a few calls first.”

I settle into my office chair, pretending to focus on the stack of papers in front of me. But my eyes keep drifting to Amelia through the glass partition. Her pink lips purse as she sips her coffee, leaving a faint lipstick mark on the rim.

I shake my head, trying to clear the image of her dancing from my mind. It’s unprofessional. Inappropriate. And yet the visions I have of her are nothing new.

My finger hovers over the intercom button. I hesitate, then press it.

---