Page 69 of The Boss

I could try explaining it to her—how I sense Julianna’s feelings for me growing, even if I know she’s not the type to fall for someone easily, if at all. I mean, I’ve met her family a few times now. Her mother is icy, almost witchlike, and her father? He’s off in his world. If his kids happen to share his interests, great—they get a relationship. (Spoiler: Julianna hates golf. Guess whatMr. Marcon is obsessed with?) Her brother, on the other hand, is more of a rival than a sibling, living on a completely different wavelength she can’t connect with.

For Julianna, the idea of falling in love doesn’t come naturally. If she ever gets around to confessing her feelings—or even admitting to them—it’s not happening overnight. A few years, probably. Maybe more.

I won’t explain it to Ms. Bradford. How could she understand? I’m reaching the point where I am the person who understands Julianna the most. A title that used to belong to this woman sitting across from me.

Perhaps she still understands her on a professional level. But I’m turning into Julianna’s most trusted confidant, whether Ms. Bradford likes it or not.

That’s gotta be weird.

“I see where you’re coming from.” That’s what I say instead of anything else. “You’re worried that Julianna is losing herself in me instead of focusing on your business like she’s supposed to. I get it. I do. But I can’t say that I feel bad about all the attention she’s been paying to me. It makes her happy if you haven’t noticed.”

“I assure you that I’ve noticed her change in mood since you appeared, Ms. Penrose.”

Is she mocking me? I honestly can’t tell anymore. “But I’m willing to work with you since I understand you so much, Ms. Bradford. If I notice Julianna slacking off on her work to be with me, I’ll make sure it’s corrected. I am, after all, one of her assistants and tasked with making sure she, uh, stays on task.” That sounded a lot better in my head.

“I appreciate it.” Yeah, I don’t think she believes me when I say that. Yet what can she do? It’s not in Ms. Bradford’s nature to chew me out or make me feel like an idiot. She’s a keep the peacekind of woman. She probably sat on her hands for a long time before deciding to talk to me about her concerns.

We shake on it. Strange, isn’t it? I’m conspiring with my girlfriend’s business partner to take care of this. It’s like going behind her back to make sure she’s babysat properly. Because clearly, Vern isn’t doing a good enough job!

Hell. Vern’s too busy trying to work for three people right now. I think I added to his workload instead of making it easier for him to get it done. Do you know how much oversight he has to perform over me?

When I return to the office, it’s to Lizzie rolling her eyes, like Cher used to do. Yeah, I know, I’m a terrible help around here. If I got shit done, I’d… well, I’d be worth the paycheck I’m now getting. Trust me when I say I see this from everyone’s perspectives. I only have this job because Ms. Marcon is fucking me. And likes it.

Usually, I don’t feel bad about it. Right now, though? I think Julianna and I must have a chat tonight when we get back to her place.

Speaking of…

That’s her lighting up my phone. As soon as I’m finished with this task, I am to report to her for a teleconference. Vern is busy doing other things, and she needs me to take notes.

Simply another day at Bradford & Marcon.

Chapter 32

Julianna

I’ve never felt this happy before, and I couldn’t tell you why. Maybe it’s the winter giving way to endless sunshine. Living in the Northwest has its charms, but the constant rain weighs a woman down. Summer, though—that’s my time. The warmth of the sun, the bright skies, and, let’s be honest, getting to see my girlfriends strut around in next to nothing? Bliss.

Ah, I should buy more skimpy dresses for Alessa. She has a body born for them.

If you could see what I do, you would agree. All I do is step out from my bedroom to find her perched on the alcove in my living room, gazing across the Willamette River with one bare foot dangling down. She cocks her arm against her knee and gazes pensively toward the sunset, her chestnut hair glowing in the golden light. On top of that, she’s wearing what we agree is the best of all the negligees she keeps in my penthouse. Sheer. Milky white. A silk robe that falls off her shoulders and grazes the floor.If you took a picture of her and printed it in a magazine, it would sell out.

But I don’t want her image printed in magazines. Not like this. It’s one thing for carefully posed photos of us to appear on the society pages when we attend parties. It’s quite another for the world to see this intimate, sexual side of her that I do. That’s for me alone.

Mine. All mine.

She tilts her head enough to see me out of the corner of her eye. “Hello, beautiful,” she says with a confident smile.

Me in my slacks, shirt, and slippers? “That’s my line, lovely.”

“Don’t care. Sometimes I get to throw your lines back at you, madam.”

Have I mentioned what a natural this woman is in my life? I could not have ever asked for a better girlfriend. Patient. Beautiful. Smart. Gorgeous. Instinctive. Elegant.

I like how she looks, all right?

Most of all, however, she knows exactly how to fit into my life. We work together at the office and play outside of it. We’re to the point where all I have to do is glance at her and she’s making love to me, using everything I’ve taught her to bring me to my knees. I can’t pay for this kind of intimacy. I don’t care what Presley tells anyone.

When I first seduced Alessa, I never counted on her becoming the foil to my dominant tendencies. I’m not saying she’s fragile. I’m saying she knows how to support me and forge her path with me by her side. What else could I possibly ask for?

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