Page 5 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

“Great.” I nod, bringing the engine back to life. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to stay fully dressed this time.”

As we drive, I can’t stop myself from glancing at her. Her hair is a mess, and her clothes are still covered in dust from the chaos. Yet, despite everything, there’s something about her. Something that makes me feel alive. Even now, when I should be thinking about Ezra.

God, Ez. I hope you’re safe.

When we finally pull up in front of my bungalow, Leah’s eyes widen. She’s clearly not expecting a place like this. I can’t blame her. The house is beautiful—sprawling with an understated elegance that fits the quiet town of Bracciano—the lake shimmers in the distance, framed by the rolling hills of the countryside.

“You have a place like this? And you’re staying in a hotel?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief as we exited the car.

“I wanted to be closer to the city. Closer to Ezra.” My voice tightens at the mention of my brother, but I shake it off and lead her inside. The living room is spacious, with soft leather furniture and unused wood in the fireplace. There’s an airbed in front of the fireplace from the last time I stayed here.

I light a fire in no time. The glow from the flames cast long shadows on the walls, making the room feel cozier than I intended.

She stares around, taking it all in, her eyes softening. “It’s beautiful,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, it’s nice. Rarely use it, though,” I say.

“I can tell.” Leah looks around. “But you have someone clean it, don’t you? There’s no dust or whatever.”

I nod. “Take any room you want.” I gesture towards the hallway. “There’s running water. But I, uh, don’t have any female clothes, so you may have to make do with some of mine. You can pop your clothes in the washer.”

Leah nods as she turns away and disappears behind the bathroom door. I try not to look at her as she walks away. In the meantime, I dial the number of the cop I got earlier after the earthquake, my mind jumping back to Ez. The call connects; we speak as I try to get some answers. But still, nothing. Just promises.

I hang up the phone, frustration clawing at me. My chest feels tight, and the helplessness is starting to gnaw at me.

Then, I hear soft footsteps behind me. And when I turn, Leah is standing there, freshly washed, wearing one of the brown bathrobes I keep in the guest bathroom. It matches her wet hair and eyes. Her cheeks are flushed as her curls tickle her face.

She looks . . . different. Younger, somehow. I wonder how old she is. Twenty? Twenty-one? Her eyes are searching my face.

“He’ll turn up, Silas. I’m sure of it.” Her voice is steady, calm, like she believes it with every fiber of her being.

I wish I could believe it, too.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I hope so.”

She walks over to the fireplace, settles on the couch, and pats the space beside her. “Come, sit. You need to relax.”

I hesitate for a moment. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower,” I mutter, pointing toward the hallway with my thumb. “I’ll be back soon.”

I disappear for a few minutes, and when I come back in shorts and a new white shirt, the air feels heavier. Like something unspoken has filled the air in my absence. She’s sitting on the airbed in front of the fire, her legs tucked under her.

My heart clenches at the sight of her, and I don’t know why. She looks back at me and offers me a small smile. I return it as I join her on the airbed. We sit in silence for a moment, just listening to the flame crackle, and I can’t shake the feeling that this is too intimate, too close.

“You hungry?” I ask. “I could fix something for—”

“No, no,” she interrupts, pulling her robe tighter around her. “I’ll probably throw up if I eat anything.” She chuckles.

“I get what you mean.” I stare into the fire.

“You do?”

“You had an NDE. It’s completely normal to feel like this.”

“An NDE?”

“Near-death experience.”

She doesn’t reply. I’m still tense despite the fire attempting to comfort me with its warmth. Leah leans back, resting on her hands, and I can’t help but steal another glance at her. There’s something about the way the firelight flickers against her skin, the way her wet hair clings to her neck, her lips soft and pink from the shower's steam.

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