Page 17 of Her Billionaire Boss
“Right.”She tilted her head.“You’re a fascinating guy.”
We headed to the elevator.“How so?”
“When I met you, you looked like a drunk-ass frat boy,” she said, stepping in beside me.“Then, you were doing this weird Howard Hughes thing when you were always in a bathrobe—”
“I was recovering from a bear attack,” I reminded her.“But nice old Hollywood reference.”
“Thanks.I know.That movie came out when I was like, in kindergarten or something,” she said with a snort of laughter.
I swear, I felt my bones turn to dust and shatter from old age.
“Anyway, then we go to your naked-all-the-time sex island, come back here and bam!You’re a mogul.”She sighed, looking me up and down.“Don’t get me wrong, you’re sexy in a suit.It’s weird how many different people you pack in there.”
“Mogul.”I shuddered.“I hate that word.It sounds like it’s describing something gross.Like a barnacle.Or a parasite.”
“Well…” Her voice trailed off.She didn’t finish her sentence.
I refrained from pointing out that as long as we were together, she was kind of riding that sweet, sweet capitalism train, herself, but I went easy on her.It was her first day going to work at what I suspected might be her first grown-up job.There was no point in shaking her.
We headed down to the garage and I took my keys out of my pocket.
“Wait, you drive yourself?”She looked impressed.
“You thought I would have a chauffeur?”
“Obviously.I mean… mogul.”She widened her eyes and tilted her forehead down to drive the point home.
“I do have a chauffeur.Remember, when we got hot dogs?”I could still feel the texture of them like a film on my teeth.Revolting.“But I wanted to drive today.I wanted some quality alone time.Couple time.”
“Couple time,” she repeated incredulously as I opened her car door for her.
I waited until I got into the driver’s seat to answer her.“Yeah.Couple time.Normal, couple activities.Like making dinner one night a week?”
She made an interested noise of understanding.
“I listen to you,” I went on.“You want something normal.Apparently, I don’t know what that is.But I will take my cues from TV and movies, and I see couples drive to work together all the time.”
“That’s true.They also fight about music.”She pulled out her phone and pointed to the stereo.“Damn it.It won’t pair while you’re driving.”
“Then I’ll have to win the fight today,” I said, a little smugly, as Ed Sheeran played.
She laughed at the name and song title displayed on the dashboard console.
“What’s wrong with Ed?”I demanded playfully.
“Nothing.Nothing.”She shook her head, smiling.“It’s very adult contemporary of you.”
“Pfff.”I pulled us onto the street and into Manhattan traffic, leaning on the horn to warn a delivery truck that looked intent on parallel parking directly in my path.“You just don’t like him because it’s cool to not like him.What’s cool is not caring what people think of you.”
“Which explains the suit?”she asked, arching a brow.
She was so beautiful.Even when she was being bratty.I had a witty comeback, but she shouted, “Look out!”in time for me to avoid ramming into the car in front of us.
Maybe for the foreseeable future, we would have my driver handle the commute.
* * * *
Charlotte breezed through the first part of the day like a champ.After I showed her where her office was located—respectably far from mine, so as not to give anyone ideas, and so as not to letmeact onmyideas—I sent her off with an HR manager to fill out paperwork and learn all the boring employee policies.Then, I got started on my work.
