Page 30 of Guarded King

Back at my desk, I pick up the phone and call Susan.

“Let me guess,” she says in greeting. “You need me to stay with your dad?”

Grimacing, I rest my elbow on my desk. “I need to put in more hours this evening. If you could help him with dinner and get him settled for the night, I’d really appreciate it. Of course I’ll pay you for the time.”

She sniffs. “Of course.”

I let out a silent sigh. It’s not Susan’s fault. I’m imposing, after all, even if I’m paying her. Even so, it would be nice if she were at least a little gracious about it since she’s happy enough to take the money.

After hanging up I call Dad and explain the situation to him.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I’ll do just fine with Susan’s scintillating company.”

Rolling my lips together, I fight a laugh. “You’ll probably be asleep by the time I get home, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, sweet pea. I love you.”

His use of the nickname he had for me as a child melts my heart. “Love you too. Bye.”

As I hang up, the sound of a throat clearing startles me. When I turn, Roman’s standing in the doorway of his office, attention fixed on me.

“Letting your boyfriend know you’re going to be home late?” There’s a faint edge to his voice I don’t understand.

“My dad, actually.”

His dark brows draw together. “You still live with your dad?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that Dad’s not well, but the hint of a frown on his lips stops me. Instead, I raise my chin and stare him straight in the eye. “Yes.” After all, my private life is none of his business. If he wants to judge me, that’s on him.

He holds my gaze, as if waiting for me to elaborate. If that’s the case, he’ll be waiting a long time. Eventually, he shakes his head. “Before tonight, please compile a list of potential tax credits that could offset our initial expenditures on the InnovaCore project if we go ahead with the updates.”

“No problem, Mr. King. While you’re here, do you have an idea of what you’d like for dinner. I’ll order now for delivery later.”

He shrugs. “Order whatever you want. I’m not fussy.”

“That’s hard to believe.” The words are out before I can stop them. Shit. I do my best not to cringe. I was doing so well remaining professional around him too.

Eyes narrowed, Roman crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the door frame. “And why exactly is that hard to believe?” he drawls.

The smart thing to do here would be to apologize and change the subject, but the challenge in his tone and posture sends electricity surging through my body, making my pulse race. I can’t resist rising to that challenge.

Tilting my head to the side, I smile. “Because you’re a billionaire who wears thousand-dollar suits, rides around in a chauffeur-driven car, only dates women who look likesupermodels, and probably has a home chef to whip up food worthy of a Michelin starred restaurant.”

He brings one big hand up and rubs his chin, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who reads gossip magazines, but you must, if you think you know what the women I date look like.”

Heat washes over me.Smooth, Chloe. My need to push this man makes me irrational, and now I’ve just told him that I’ve been doing a little internet stalking lately. He hasn’t been photographed with a woman on his arm often, but when he has, each one has been nothing short of gorgeous.

Swallowing back the embarrassment creeping up my throat, I lift my chin, praying he can’t see my blush from where he’s standing. “It’s just an assumption.”

“Believe it or not, Miss Callahan, sometimes I enjoy being surprised. With food and…” his focus dips to my mouth in a way that steals the air from my lungs, “other things.”

For the briefest of moments, I swear that cool gaze of his turns hot. Tension coils tight in the space between us, but it’s gone a second later, when he abruptly straightens away from the door frame. “How about we get some work done first and then see what we feel like?”

“Okay.” The breathiness to my voice doesn’t sound professional at all.

He regards me for a moment longer, his expression shuttered. Then he pivots. “Don’t forget the tax credits.” With that, he retreats into his office and closes the door behind him.

I huff out a breath. Clearly, I was mistaken about there being heat in his gaze. Ridiculously, disappointment lands like a rock in my stomach. After Geoff, I should be glad I have a boss who isn’t the least bit interested in a more than professional relationship. I should be thankful he doesn’t stand too close, oraccidentally brush against me, even when there’s plenty of room to pass by.

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