Page 16 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

“He’s a CEO now, but we know that already. His net worth . . . 104 billion. Whew! Big time. And,” her eyes narrow as she scrolls, “he has a thirteen-year-old son. Caleb.”

My stomach twists at the mention of a son. I knew nothing about his life. After that night, I’d purposefully avoided looking him up. “A son? I didn’t see a ring on his finger.”

Penny looks up at me, her eyes twinkling. “You were checking him out to see if he was wearing a ring?”

“Uh, not like I was, uh—” I stutter, and Penny burst into laughter. “Shut up, Penny!”

“Okay, okay.” She raises her hands in mock surrender and looks back at the laptop. “But there’s no mention of the mom. He’s a total mystery man.”

I swallow, trying to digest the information. A kid. I shouldn’t care. It’s been five years. But the thought of him moving on, having a family? It stings more than I want to admit.

Penny glances at me, concern softening her features. “So, what are you going to do? I mean, are yousureyou’re over him?”

I force a laugh. “I’m definitely over him. I mean, come on. It was just sex. And besides, he made it pretty clear that night meant nothing to him.”

Penny arches a brow. “Right. Well, good luck with that.” She looks over at the kitchen. “There’s some leftover pizza on the counter. I can hear your stomach growling.”

I force myself off the couch. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“So when do you start?”

“Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, I will start working with Silas Waverly. I shudder as I eat the corner of a pizza slice. My pulse is hastening, but I can’t tell if it’s from excitement or dread.

***

The next morning, I’m standing in front of the sleek glass doors of Silas’s office building, and I swear I can feel my heart trying to escape through my chest. I take a deep breath, reminding myself of the promises I made last night in bed.

I’m a professional. I can handle this.

I step inside, and the familiar scent of polished floors and expensive cologne fills my lungs. Everything here screams money. The kind of money my father has. The kind I’ve always detested. The lobby is all sharp lines and modern art, a far cry from the quaint little apartment Penny and I share.

When I reach his floor, the receptionist greets me and points me towards his office suite. My heart races again. Of course, my office would be right next to his. I approach his door and knock softly before stepping in, expecting to find him seated behind his desk.

What Idon’texpect is to walk in on him halfway undressing.

Silas stands in the middle of the room, shirtless, slipping into a crisp white button-up shirt. The sight hits me like a freight train. Those broad shoulders, the hard planes of his hairy chest, the way his muscles flex with every movement. His scent—clean, masculine, and all too familiar—wraps around me like a lasso, pulling me back to that night in Rome.

I remember him licking his way to my navel and taking a nipple in my mouth as he carved his fingers through my hair, making a fist in it. I remember wrapping my fingers around his hardnessas I moan. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks and worse—between my legs.

Great. This isexactlywhat I don’t need right now.

“Leah.” His voice snaps me out of my inappropriate daydream. He’s buttoning his shirt now, completely oblivious to the mess I’ve become. “I didn’t expect you this early.”

“Yeah, uh, wanted to check in,” I manage, hoping my face isn’t as red as it feels. I cross my arms to keep from fidgeting and force myself to focus on something,anything, other than the memory of his hands on my skin.

“I’ve got a meeting with the Caldwells in a few minutes,” he says, smoothing down the collar of his shirt like this is all totally normal.

“That’s the family you want to buy the theatre chain and streaming platform from, yeah?” I rattle off what I read onEntertainment Weeklylast night.

“I see you’ve been reading up on me.” He’s fixing his black tie.

“It’s part of the job.” I frown, taking offense at his tone. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

If he took offense at my words, he doesn’t show it. “I’ll have my schedule sent over to you later today, so you can start getting familiar with it.”

His tone is all business. Cool, detached, like we’ve never been anything more than colleagues. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. After what I told him yesterday about keeping the past in the past, I should be relieved he’s being professional. Instead, all I feel is this gnawing disappointment.

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