Page 38 of The Wrong Boss

“Thank you,” I said, straightening my skirt. When I looked up, he was frowning at the side of my head. My tissue was covered in blood, so I crumpled it up and tossed it in a nearby trash can before grabbing another from my purse. It came away with only a few spots of blood as I dabbed it to the side of my head. The wound wasn’t so bad.

“My place isn’t far from here,” Cole said, and I realized he’d shadowed me as I’d walked to the trash can. “At least let me take you there so you can get cleaned up. I’ll call my private physician to get you checked out. This happened while you were working for me, Carrie. It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re okay.”

Staring into his eyes was dangerous, but I did it anyway. And sure enough, my resolve weakened, and I found myself dipping my chin in agreement. “Fine,” I replied, defeated. “Letme grab the wedding invitations from the back seat. I might as well finish the job I was tasked with.”

He nodded his agreement, then went to talk to his driver while I gathered the invitations, labels, and envelopes from the back seat. By the time I’d collected everything, Cole was hailing another cab.

Not knowing what else to do—and not having the energy to fight him—I walked over on wobbling legs and entered the back of the cab as he held the door open for me.

So far, Day One of working for Cole Christianson had been an unmitigated disaster. And it wasn’t even over.

FOURTEEN

COLE

Carrie said thankyou to the doorman who let us into my building, then allowed me to guide her to the elevators. My heart was still thumping irregularly, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the shock of the accident, the blood drying on the side of her head, or the fact that Carrie was actually here, in my building, at my side.

So, actually, I knew exactly why my heart was acting all weird. It’s because I was furious.

Furious that she was finally here, but I couldn’t have her. Furious that my driver had gotten us into that situation. That Carrie had been hurt.

Furious at how powerless I was to change any of it.

Mashing the elevator button, I lashed myself for my thoughts.

I didn’twanther. The person I’d met seven years ago was afigment of my imagination, and I was engaged to another woman. A beautiful woman who was exactly my type.

A beautiful woman who treated sex like it was transactional, who made me feel less at home in her arms than I did alone in my office.

Gritting my teeth against the intrusive thoughts, I pressed the button for my floor. My apartment took up the entire twenty-second floor. I’d bought it only recently, when Alba and I got engaged. Along with wedding preparations, she’d remodeled the whole place—and she’d done a great job.

Another reason I should be appreciative of her.

We exited the elevator directly into an interior foyer. I guided Carrie around a small table bearing a large bouquet of fresh flowers that seemed to get refreshed by magic every couple of days—Alba’s influence, again—and led her to the small living room on the south side of the residence that I preferred.

“Take a seat,” I told her. “Doc should be here within half an hour.” I’d called my physician on the way here, which meant that now I didn’t know what to do with myself.

“Do you mind if I go clean up in the washroom?” Carrie asked, gesturing to her head.

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” I said. She set the bundles of wedding stationery down on a side table and followed my directions. After watching her turn the corner, I let out a deep breath and crossed the space to the mini bar.

Once I had a drink in my hand, I called Kaia. She answered saying, “I heard about the accident. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. That’s the second time Paulie’s been reckless while driving me.” The first time had been a fender bender outside theoffice building, when he’d pulled into traffic and bashed the nose of the car into a passing cab.

Kaia inhaled. “Do you—do you want me to get him into a defensive driving course?”

I took a sip of my drink and exhaled. I was clearly still under the influence of my own wonky emotions—or maybe the influence of Carrie’s presence—because instead of demanding that Paulie be let go, I said, “Get it done,” and hung up the phone.

“You’re home early,” my fiancée said behind me.

I turned to see her stepping into the room. She wore a crisp white button-down that had a faint sheen. It opened at the throat to reveal two stacked gold necklaces and the fine line of her throat. She’d tucked the shirt into wide-leg pants of a deep orange color, and her heels clacked on the imported Japanese hardwood floors for a few steps until she glided onto the rug that dominated the room.

She moved like water, graceful and sensual. I was lucky to have her, even if the look she gave me was a touch suspicious.

“Got in a minor car accident,” I said. “One of my employees was hurt, so we’re waiting for Dr. Harnell.”

Alba’s brows jumped slightly. “You brought one of your employees here?”

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