Page 11 of Bigfoot Boss
“It’s not a gift, it’s a necessity. I need to be able to contact my assistant at any time. I need you available to me.”
I press the box into her hands, her small fingers wrap around it.
“Thanks.” Her lips turn up slightly. They are painted bright pink today. I briefly picture them wrapped around my cock before I manage to pull myself together again. Her scent in this small car is going to drive me to madness.
I’d give Bailey a new phone and a ride even if I wasn’t madly in love with her. I would have done it for Mrs. Morton, or the assistant before her, or the one before him. Whatever their names were, I would have helped them if I’d found them stranded in a similar situation.
I’m not doing anything inappropriate.
Bailey’s hand shifts on the seat between us, our fingers brush briefly, sending a jolt through my body that is entirely inappropriate.
Her blue eyes lock on mine. Maybe it’s my imagination, but there’s something more than just gratitude in that look. Can she feel the mating bond? I didn’t think that humans had them, but—the town car rolls to a stop. She rips her gaze away, and the spell is broken.
“Let me walk you inside.” I pull out an umbrella from under the seat. “Another benefit of being rich, someone else is paid to keep your car stocked with the essentials.”
7
LARGE CAPABLE HAND
Bailey
It’s easy to forget how large Sacha is until all eight feet of him is standing behind you, holding an umbrella big enough to shield a family of five. He waits patiently while I fish my apartment key out of my purse.
Even though it’s Saturday he’s still wearing a suit; I wonder if he was in the office today or if he just dresses like this all the time. His dark blue suit jacket is tucked around my shoulders. He’s wearing a neatly tailored white button-down, with a thin black tie. The guy knows how to dress himself, that’s for sure.
His posture is excellent. He carries himself with the confidence earned from being a tall, handsome, self-made millionaire. Billionaire? I wonder how much money he actually has. He his eyes flick down to mine, and I realize I might be staring. I flash him a quick grin. He gives me an easy smile in return. My stomach flips with delight.
And oh shit, I am in trouble.
I might want to have sex with my boss.
This is why I can’t have nice things. Because I’m an idiot, who makes bad decisions, and falls for unattainable men. Of course Ilike him. I already know he’s a bad guy who fucks his assistants and then fires them. Or fires them when they turn him down? Which is worse?
All that matters is that I can’t have a fling with my boss at the best paying job I’ve ever had. I have to keep it.
“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Kwatch.” My fingers finally wrap around the cool metal key. “I’d love to invite you in, but—” I mentally catalog our dirty living room, the stained futon, the mismatched thrift store end tables, the scratched Ikea coffee table we found on the curb when our neighbor moved out, “I think I’m actually too poor to let you see how I live.”
“I’m sure your home is perfectly acceptable.” Sacha shakes his head.
“I doubt you’d say that if you saw it; I’m saving you from getting covered in cat hair—” I hurriedly open my door, hoping to get him out of my hair. Later, I can get him out of my head with a quick flick of the bean.
“Wait! Shit! Stop!” My roommate, Margot, yells as the apartment door swings open.
She’s too late. A herd of tiny foster kittens swarms the entrance, mewling excitedly as they make a break for the terrifying freedom of the city streets.
Crouching, I manage to grab the two slowest escapees by the scruff. I swivel to capture the rest, but Sacha has easily scooped up the remaining three with one large, capable hand. He cradles the two black kittens close to his broad chest, while the little calico uses her tiny needle claws to climb his shirt, yowling the entire way to his shoulder.
Yep. I definitely want to fuck my boss.
“Shit, shit. Sorry, Cheddar! I’m so sorry!” Margot appears in the doorway with the sixth kitten in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. “I didn’t think you’d be home for hours. They can get out of their enclosure now. Did you know that?” Herwords stop when she catches sight of Sacha, and her eyes trail from his bare toes all the way up to the top of his head. She smirks and pushes a strand of long brown hair behind her ear. “Who’s this?”
“This is Sacha Kwatch. My new boss.”
Margot’s big green eyes widen. “Is this the coworker you went on the date with?”
“No.” I shush her with a look before she can say anything else and scoot past her into the living room.
Rhapsody, the exhausted mama cat, gives my leg a brush hello before I set Galileo and Figaro down in the playpen that they previously couldn’t escape. Figaro immediately begins to scale the side. Keeping them contained might be a thing of the past.
