Page 28 of The Wrong Boss

She swung her legs over the side of the couch and sat up. Her hair was mussed, her skin pale. I watched her, and I realized there’d never been a pedestal. She really was as beautiful as the image I’d had in my mind. Except she was better, because she was warm and soft and real. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was the smallest bit scratchy. “Just—give me a minute.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed to the bar cart, and Kaia read my mind, as she always did. She came back with a few snacks—mixed nuts and a small chocolate bar—and handed them to Carrie.

Carrie gulped down more water and nodded at Kaia in thanks. “I’m good,” she said. “I’m fine. Really. I just…want to get back to work.” Her gray eyes darted to mine again, the same questions written there, edged with something like panic.

Do you remember me? What do we do? Do we pretend it never happened? Did that night mean anything to you?

Maybe those were just the questions rattling around my own mind, and I was projecting them onto her. Maybe she didn’t give a shit about me, and she was simply wondering if she’d still have a job by day’s end.

A tense silence stretched, and Kaia broke it by saying, “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off, Carrie.”

“No,” both Carrie and I snapped at the same time.

I jerked back, then tried to hide my reaction by turning and striding to my desk.

She washere. The woman I’d tried to forget for seven years was in my office, eating my trail mix, drinking my water.

She’d made me feel like there was someone out there, in the wide world, who could look at me andseeme. Understand me. She’d done it without knowing a thing about me. She’d given me the courage to seek out my birth family.

I’d fantasized about this moment, about telling her that I’d finally followed through with it. I’d wondered if she’d reward me with one of those bright smiles, or if she’d tease me, or if she’d throw her arms around my neck and kiss me.

I’d fantasized about a lot more than that. It had taken a long, long time for me to force myself to stop replaying the events of that hotel room in my mind every time I needed release.

But the woman I’d imagined wasn’t real—the woman I’d created based on a few hours of conversation and sex.

The Carrie sitting in my office right now wasn’t the same. She couldn’t be.

My phone rang; Alba’s name flashed on the screen. Isilenced the call with a quick press of a button, clenching my jaw. Guilt slammed into me. Closing my eyes, I stuffed all the shock and delight and horror down somewhere deep and slammed an iron lid on my emotions.

I was engaged to be married, and I would never be a man who strayed. Besides, Alba was perfect for me. A little voice whispered:Perfect for me on paper. Ignoring the voice, I reminded myself that I couldn’t afford to break up with her. Not when she was my father’s business partner’s daughter. Not when we’d invested so much in the wedding already. Not when my father looked at the two of us with that indulgent, happy smile on his face.

Seven years, I’d worked on building a relationship with him. The only family I had left. He’d never forgive me if I hurt Alba.

I couldn’t toss aside my relationship with Alba or my father for a woman who meant nothing to me.

And shedidmean nothing to me. How could she, when we were strangers to each other?

The woman in question finished her trail mix and lifted her gaze to meet mine. She cleared her throat and stood, then nodded at Kaia. “I’m okay. I’m ready to work.”

A flush of begrudging respect went through me. I remembered that stubborn set of her jaw, the way her eyes begged anyone around to challenge her. It was the same expression I’d seen when I’d laid eyes on her the very first time, when she was about to rush headlong into danger and get herself slashed to ribbons by some desperate, drug-addicted thief.

I’d liked that expression then, and I liked it now.

Kaia studied her for a moment, then tilted her head inacceptance. She turned to me. “In that case, why don’t we get Carrie to handle the wedding invitations?”

Carrie flinched at the word “wedding.” My eyes darted to her, and she blinked away from meeting my gaze. I watched her straighten her spine and turn to stare at the side of Kaia’s head. My hands clenched into fists. I wanted her to look at me. After all this time, I wanted her to seeme.

A refusal was on the tip of my tongue—but why would I refuse to assign Carrie the wedding invites? If Carrie could manage to fix the flight fiasco within a couple of hours, she could surely get a few hundred wedding invitations printed by the end of the day in the right shade of gold lettering. But I could still feel the soft weight of Carrie’s body in my arms, and I wanted to tell them both to forget about the stupid invitations. Forget about the whole fucking wedding.

What the hell was wrong with me? The Carrie in my head was a figment of my overactive imagination, created to fill a hollow void inside me. The woman currently avoiding my gaze was a stranger.

I wasn’t going to blow up my life for a woman I’d known for a few hours nearly a decade ago. So all I said was, “Good idea.”

“We’ll get out of your hair,” Kaia said, motioning for Carrie to follow her out of my office.

Carrie’s throat moved as she swallowed, and as Kaia stepped through the door and out of my space, the ghost from my past glanced over her shoulder and met my gaze.

Soft lips parted on unsaid words, and I remembered how it had felt to have her cry my name as she ran her fingernailsacross my back. I remember the ache of those scratches, and how I’d missed them when they’d healed.

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