Page 13 of Dear Grumpy Boss

“It won’t be, because it will be on mine. It’s my responsibility to look after you.”

“It’s not,” she says in a sudden burst. She laces her fingers together, unlaces them, then wraps her arms around her midriff. “There’s only so much you can enforce on a group of adults, Zayn.”

“What did they do?”

She won’t even look at me now.

“Look at it this way, Mouse. You’re efficient, disciplined, on time, and you’re one of the kindest people I know. If they can hurt you, even knowing that you and I are close…” Her eyes liftto mine, searching greedily. “They might target that watchman Ibrahim with the lisp or Natasha in marketing for her poor English skills, or even your friend Mariska when she delivers breakfast every Friday.”

A rough breath shudders out of her. I know my girl and I hate that I’m causing her this pain. But she will do things for the people she cares about. “They call me Ugly Shetty. Behind my back,” she adds after a beat. As if that makes it okay.

Fury licks flames through me and I shoot out of my seat. Hands fisted, I walk around the coffee table and I want to smash something. Or someone.

“Zayn…”

I’m so angry that my heart thumps dangerously in my chest. “You should’ve told me.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not worth it. And I got over it after a while. I’ll never be thin enough or tall enough or fashionable enough for some crowds and that’s okay.”

She was sixteen when she started working in this office part-time while I traveled full-time. Young and naive, with a kind of artless innocence that nearly gave me whiplash, even years after I first met her. She shouldn’t have had to put up with that kind of bullying at all. Not under my roof.

Why did I not see it? Why didn’t she tell me?

My legs act for me, and I kneel in front of her.

When I take a deep breath—because I want to say the right thing—I’m hit by her strawberry and vanilla scent. It calms me as much as it excites me. I want to tuck my face into all the contours and corners of her body to find a deeper thread of that scent, warmed by her skin.

This close, I can see the rich brown of her eyes, accented by the thick fringe of her lashes and the bow shape of her pink upper lip. Her nose has this cute little bump at the end, and messy tendrils escape her braid, framing her face.

Everything about her is so…real and sexy in a way I don’t have words for. I want to worship her with my mouth, my fingers, my entire body. And I will.Soon.

“Honestly,” she says, shying her gaze from mine. “I don’t even care anymore that I’m not all those things. And that’s the part that sticks in their craw. My contentment makes them resentful.”

And that’s the magic of this girl—her simple joy in life. I want that quality in mine as much as I want to bury myself in her lushness. It was foolish to think all I wanted from her was her pussy. But then, I’ve never been good at parsing any of this emotional stuff.

I cup her knees and feel the warm puff of her breath on my mouth.

“I’m sorry they made you feel unsafe here. I should have protected you better—”

She presses a finger to my lips. The contact sends instant tingles through me. I want to open my mouth and lick her up, but this isn’t the moment for that. She needs to know that she’s safe with me. Always.

“Believe it or not, it has made me stronger. And wiser, eventually. It made me realize reality can never stand up to my books.”

“You’ll still give me the names.” Now I’m the one cutting off her protest with a finger against her lips. They are soft and I absently run my fingertip over the upper one. She bows into the touch slightly and the feeling is better than when I made my first million. “Come, Mouse. You know how much I hate bullies.” It’s a miracle that I manage to keep the bitterness that has hardened my heart out of my voice. “This can’t be allowed to go on, especially now that I know of it.”

She taps my finger away. “You can’t mean to—”

I shoot to my feet. “Fire them? Absolutely.”

Her fingers around my wrist arrest me. “Zayn, please don’t—”

I lean down and run a finger over the corner of her mouth. Her surprised gasp is sweet. “You’re beautiful, Mouse. Like those deep, thick-petaled roses Nathan’s nanny grows. At first glance, they look wild and common. Not everyone has the eyes to see that beauty.”

Her gaze holds mine as if searching for mockery. Still holding my hand, she comes to her feet. Goes up on her toes and presses a kiss on my jaw.

It goes straight to my heart, splintering the hard shell around. Her tits rub against my biceps, her scent envelops me, and I let the warmth from different sources drizzle through me.

She isn’t just beautiful.

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