Page 8 of Filthy Rich Bosses

I never behave. He should know that by now. We’ve been friends since prep school, after all. Two decades in, and you’d think he’d learn. Warning me off only makes me want something that much more.

“You can meet Zeus tomorrow. I’d rather you settle in and get comfortable first before introducing the two of you. I have to get to the office, but my house staff can show you to your room and help you get settled.”

I watch as Douglas glides into the room, looking dapper in his perfectly pressed, three-piece suit. He gives Ms. Morrow a politenod. "Welcome to the Harrington residence, madam. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Ms. Morrow's eyes narrow slightly, like she's trying to figure out if Douglas is for real. I can't blame her—his posh British accent and impeccable manners can be a bit much at first.

"It was fine," she says curtly, her voice carrying a hint of steel.

I decide it's time to break the ice. "Hey there, beautiful," I say, flashing my most winning smile. "Allow me to give you the grand tour. I promise it'll be way more fun than whatever stuffy welcome Douglas had planned."

Her eyes snap to mine, and damn if they don't sparkle with irritation. "I'm not here for fun," she snaps. "And I don't need a tour guide, especially not one who looks like he just rolled out of a frat party."

I can't help but laugh. "Ouch! Kitten's got claws," I say, holding a hand to my chest in mock pain. But inside, my heart's doing backflips. This girl is something else.

Douglas clears his throat. "Perhaps I should show Ms. Morrow to her room now," he suggests.

"Nah, I've got this," I say, winking at Ms. Morrow. "Come on, Grumpy Cat. Let's get you settled."

“It’s Tessa.”

“Well,kitten, the name you’ll be screaming later is Chase.”

“In exasperation, I’m sure.”

“Oh, no, my sweet. In absolute pleasure.”

As I lead her toward the guest wing, I can't stop stealing glances at her. The way she walks, all confident and no-nonsense, it's doing things to me. I fall hard and fast and move on quickly. It’s the rich boy MO, and I’ve perfected it.

But this time, I’m absolutely smitten. I've never fallen this hard, this fast before. And even though she's pretending to be annoyed, I catch the tiniest quirk of her lips when I crack another joke.

Oh yeah, I think to myself.This is going to be fun.

I shadow her like a puppy all afternoon, watching as she unpacks and settles in. Every time she catches me staring, she rolls those gorgeous eyes.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she asks, exasperation dripping from her voice.

I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Nope. My schedule's wide open, just for you."

She huffs, but I swear I see the hint of a smile. "Lucky me," she mutters.

As the day wears on, I can feel her walls starting to crack. She laughs at one of my jokes—a real laugh, not just a sarcastic snort—and my heart soars.

When my phone buzzes with a text from Grayson, I grin. "Looks like the boss man's working late," I announce. "You know what that means?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Maybe you’ll join him?"

I clutch my chest dramatically. "You wound me! No, it means we're having a private party. Just you and me, kitten."

"I told you not to call me that," she grumbles, but there's no real heat behind it.

"Come on," I say, holding out my hand. "I promise it'll be fun. Unless you're scared?"

Her eyes narrow at the challenge. "Fine," she says, following me down the hall. "But this better be good."

As I lead her downstairs, my mind's already racing with possibilities. One thing's for sure—this is going to be a night to remember.

I saunter into the kitchen, feeling Tessa's eyes on me as I rummage through the fridge. The chef left us a mouthwatering spread of appetizers—I grab the platter, balancing it carefully.

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