Page 41 of The Wrong Boss

Her shrug was casual, and it felt like a dagger in the chest. “I’m just telling you where I stand.”

“We’re gettingmarried, Alba. That means something to me.”

For the first time since she’d broached the subject, the cold facade cracked, and she gave me a sad smile. “It means something to me too. Which is exactly why I wanted to have this conversation.”

“What, it means keeping your image intact?” I snapped.

“Among other things.”

“What about commitment? What about loyalty?”

“I’ll be as loyal to you as you are to me, Cole.”

“This isn’t—” I cut myself off, because I didn’t know what I wanted to say. I didn’t even know why this conversation filled me with such revulsion and anger.

I wasn’t a sentimental guy, but I wasn’t a piece of shit who’d stray on his wife, either. I didn’t believe in true love, but that didn’t mean my wedding vows would be empty words.

I took a deep breath and faced my wife-to-be. “I’m not going to cheat on you, Alba. With Carrie or anyone else.”

She held my gaze for a long moment. I was telling her the truth. No matter what memories Carrie had awoken within me, it didn’t change who I was. I was a man of my word. Always.

Had I been thrown by Carrie’s reappearance in my life? Yes. It would be a lie to say anything else. But did that mean I’d toss everything away to indulge my attraction from seven years ago?

Absolutely fucking not.

Alba let out a long breath and dipped her chin. “Good,” she said, then set her glass of bourbon aside. “In that case, we had an agreement.”

She stood up, stepped toward me, and in a sensuous movement, got down on her knees between my legs. The orange fabric of her pants puddled on the rug like a rust stain. Her hands slid up my thighs and reached for my belt buckle, but I put my palms over hers to still the movement.

“Stop, Alba. I don’t—” I shook my head. “I don’t want this.”

She sat back on her heels, looking possibly more offended at the thought of me rejecting her advances than she did when shewas so casually discussing me breaking the wedding vows we were planning on saying to each other.

And that pissed me right off.

“You don’t need to reward me for completing a task like I’m some sort of dog, Alba,” I snapped. “I don’t want this unless you want to do it.”

Unless it felt the way it had in that hotel room, when Carrie?—

No. I wouldn’t compare them. How could a few hours with a woman I didn’t know even come close to a two-year relationship?

Closing my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Alba huffed, and a soft rustle of fabric told me she’d gotten to her feet. “Fine. I’ll be out tonight, so don’t wait up for me.”

“I’m leaving for LA in the morning,” I told her. “Depending on how the meeting goes, I might have to stay the night.”

“And I’m heading to my mother’s tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be back on Sunday night. Have a good rest of the week.”

I nodded and opened my eyes in time to see her striding out of the room. That was it. After that disaster of a conversation, we wouldn’t see each other for days.

Bitterness coated the back of my throat as she turned the corner. Bitterness—and shame.

Because the thought of having the rest of the week to myself filled me with relief.

Not for the first time, I wondered if I was making a mistake in marrying her. Not because she was a bad person, or because we didn’t have some compatibilities—but because I wondered if I’d underestimated what a marriage could be.

It wasn’t a business partnership. It wasn’t the transactional exchange of favors. It was something more.

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