Page 2 of Beastly Boss

Once outside, I take a deep breath, letting the warm air fill my lungs.What was that all about?I’ve never had that reaction to a woman before. Plenty of women have thrown themselves at me for power, money, or a fun night with an attractive man. I’m not vain; I simply know how people perceive me. I don’t waste what precious free time I have on one-night stands. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I was with a woman.

I lean against the balcony, resting my elbows on the ornately carved stone ledge. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but I sense someone walking up behind me. As the head of the most prominent and feared mafia family in Vegas, I’m hyper-aware of my surroundings at all times. My enemies are plentiful and relentless.

“You look about as bored as I feel,” a familiar voice says. It can’t be the woman from earlier. Surely, I’m hallucinating. The fresh air clearly didn’t help, so a lobotomy it is, then.

Even though I’m half convinced I made the voice up, I turn around to make sure. There she is, in her gorgeous emerald gown that highlights the green in her eyes. Fuck me, her little smirk has my dick twitching to life for the first time in God knows how long.

“My dad always drags me to these things, so we have an excuse to leave early,” Kimbra continues.

I can’t seem to scrape up a single word in my vocabulary to add to the conversation. This woman has me tongue-tied for the first time in my entire life.

“Do you have kids?”

I choke out a cough at her question, then clear my throat as I try to recover. “No,” I say in a gravelly, scratchy tone. “No kids.” Though, if I did have a kid, they might be her age. That thought should send me running in the opposite direction. She’s too damn young for me. “How old are you?”

The question sounds more like an interrogation. In my defense, I usually talk to thugs and mafia men. I don’t have much experience with this kind of interaction.

“Twenty-two,” Kimbra answers with a smile.

“College?”

Her eyes sparkle as they latch onto mine like she’s pleased she got me to talk to her. Jesus, she’s nearly twenty years younger than me. Too young. Too innocent. Too… vulnerable. What kind of monster would take advantage of that?

“I’m a senior at the University of Southern Nevada, studying botany. I know, I know. Weird major for living in a desert climate.” She gives me a self-deprecating smile.

“Flowers?”

“Among other plants, algae, and fungi,” she confirms. “I’m working on my final project right now, and then I’ll be all done.”

“Final project?”Great job, buddy. Two whole words at the same time.

“I’m cross-pollinating two plants, hoping to grow a new hybrid that’s both durable and beautiful. The thistle plant, orCirsium spinosissimum, has hard, spiky leaves and thorns. Its armor makes it strong and enables it to thrive in dry, rocky environments. I’m hoping to merge those qualities with the dahlia flower. It’s fascinating because dahlias have eight homologous chromosomes.Eight!”

I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm over plant chromosomes, whatever that means. Kimbra’s cheeks flush slightly, and she looks down at the ground.

“Sorry, I geek out about my nerdy plant stuff far too often. I sometimes forget most people have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“Not geeky, passionate,” I correct her. She rewards me with a smile so bright I’m nearly blinded.

We don’t say anything for a few moments, but it’s not awkward—just the opposite. I’m… comfortable around her, even in the silence. It’s a strange feeling, especially with a near stranger. I notice Kimbra picking at a thread in the bodice of her dress. I watch in fascination as she yanks on the green fabric and breaks the thread with a snap. She finds another loose thread and does the same thing, then she lays the two pieces out on the stone balcony.

“Why?” I ask, nodding to the emerald-colored thread. Great, now I’ve reverted to being monosyllabic.

“My mom always did this. Whenever we had a loose thread or scrap fabric for whatever reason, she’d lay it out on our back porch for the birds to use for nest building. It was always fun and magical to see the different colors in the nests around the neighborhood.” She shrugs as if it’s just another memory, but after years of working with her father, I happen to know she lost her mother at a young age. “I guess it was our way of adding beauty to the world.”

“You’ve already added so much beauty to mine.”Where the hell did that come from?

“What?”

Shit. I don’t know how to explain that, so instead, I say the first thing that pops into my head to distract her. “Dance with me,” I suddenly demand.

“Really?” At first, I think she’s shutting me down, which is fair. We’re not even in the ballroom; we’re hanging out on the balcony. “I have to warn you, I don’t have a lot of experience.” I raise an eyebrow at her, unable to contain the smirk on my lips. I have no doubt she’s inexperienced in more ways than one. “I meant with dancing,” she says, playfully hitting me in the chest. I’ve broken men’s arms for doing the same thing, but everything is different with Kimbra.

I hold out my hand as the band starts up another song. From out here, the music is faint, but I don’t mind. Kimbra places her delicate hand in mine for the second time tonight, making my heart momentarily stop once more.

I pull Kimbra’s curvy body against mine, adjusting our position so one hand is on my shoulder and the other is held in my hand, off to the side. I rest my free hand on her hip so I can gently guide her. We sway back and forth, getting used to the rhythm of the music. “Follow my lead,” I whisper into the shell of her ear.

Kimbra’s pulse throbs on the side of her neck, her breathing growing shallow at my words. God, I want to kiss that spot. It’s the same urge I had when I first laid eyes on her.

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