Page 10 of Heartless Boss
He networks with some of the most powerful people in the world. If he wants to crush my little career as a PA, all he has to do is give me a bad reference and no one will ever hire me, that’s how powerful he is. The name Gunner Underwood carries a lot of power while the name Gia Gallagher is trash. So how the heck are we not much different?
As he ambles toward me, I walk backward until the back of my legs hit the mattress, forcing me to sit down. He bends down to eye level. His nose is inches from my face, and my heart pounds so loudly it’s drowning out the honking of cars and street traffic. I want to offer my body up to him like a sacrifice, the way it responds to him. My breasts are heavy and full, my vagina is so wet and hungry that I might have to change my panties.
“You’ve got two options. Either you leave here willingly, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you out. I’m not having my employee sleeping on the streets. So get your ass in gear. I’ve got a random hookup tonight, and right now, you’re cockblocking.” His tone is warm, and I suck in an audible breath. He cares about someone else other than himself—there’s a heart under his icy demeanor.
I don’t want to use up all my savings, and since I haven’t checked in to the hotel, I can get my money back.
I should be kissing his feet and thanking him. Not grilling him on why he’s helping me.
“Fine.” I get up from the mattress, grab my trash bag by the door, and sling it over my shoulder.
Chapter Four
Gia
Once outside, Gunner takes my trash bag and dumps it in the bed of a brown, rusting Ford truck. Normally he drives a white Audi to work. So he looks as awkward standing next to it as Dwayne Johnson dressed as the Tooth Fairy. The inky sky makes his azure eyes look softer, and the artificial street lamp kisses his hair, making it appear a shade lighter.
I grab my purse, tread to the passenger side of his truck, open it, slide in, and strap my seat belt over my tiny frame. I sink into the leather cushion.
Gunner jumps in the driver side and turns the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life, and he tugs the lever down, driving onto the cracked asphalt. I need to find a way to break up the sexual tension between us because at the rate I’m going, I’ll combust into tiny pieces.
When I hit the button on the door, the window rolls down, and I hang my arms out as the cool breeze smacks my face. Strands of my hair cling to my cheeks, so I tuck them behind my ear. I like the wind engulfing me as it cools off my burning skin.
Where did Gunner find me a place to stay at? What’s the real reason why he’s helping me? Let’s face it, Gunner is no saint.
Skyscrapers flash by in a blur as we cruise past Central Park, and a police car with flashing blue and white lights wails past us. The city is alive and vibrates as the roads are littered with cars.
I tear my face from the window and glance at Gunner; he taps his fingers on the steering wheel as he hums an eighties rock song.
This version of him intrigues me like the way Sleeping Beauty was hypnotized by the spinning wheel. Honestly, I don’t know what to think of him. If he’s my knight in shining armor then God help me. And I’m not even a religious person. He’s a wolf in expensive sheep’s clothing, parading around here like he’s kind. When he gets a chance, he’ll eat you alive.
I tuck my arms back inside, tap the button on the side of the door and the window rolls up.
Thanks to traffic, forty-five minutes later we turn onto West Eighty-First Street, the Upper West Side, known for the young and rich. This is where the trust-fund kids reside while their grandparents live on the East Side. Gunner parks on the side of the curb and my mouth hangs open so wide a bug can fly in it.
The beige building is gigantic and made out of glass and brick. It sticks out like a sore thumb. It looks freshly built and there’re construction workers remodeling the building. It sits in between two other buildings that look historical.
People dipped in designer clothes from head to toe bounce in and out of the building.
There’s no way in heck I can afford something like this. A lanky, tall guy sporting a crimson uniform opens my door and helps me out.
“Hey, Mr. Underwood. It’s good to see you,” the guy says with a smile.
“Jimmy, I need you to take good care of Gia. She’s our new resident,” Gunner says. His smile is so bright it can light up the dark sky.
“Right. Will do. Your bags, ma’am?” he asks.
Gunner grabs my trash bag from the bed of the truck and shoves it in Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy scrunches up his pointy nose and stares at us like we are aliens from another planet. Guess he isn’t used to seeing common folk carrying trash bags around.
I follow Gunner through the brightly lit lobby, and we halt at a set of double elevator doors. He taps the up button as I rock on my heels as we wait for the doors to open.
“You’re shacking up with me until I have a unit available in one of my buildings.”
“So we’re like roomies?”
“Only Mondays through Thursdays.”
“Why?” I’m all for having the weekends to myself—at least I can let my hair down, be myself without freaking him out.
