Page 13 of Falling For Her Boss

As I finish work, I head for the Upper East Side to visit his apartment. I grab a bunch of flowers for him on a whim, wondering if it’s an appropriate gift. Of course, nothing about this visit is appropriate at all, so I guess this won’t make much difference. I just want to show him that I care.

I stand outside his building for a long time, simply staring at it and wondering whether I should turn back. I know he’s in the penthouse, and the sleek glass building is super fancy. I don’t belong here at all. I grew up in poverty. I’m not used to this kind of lavishness. When I was nineteen, I moved out of Joshua’s apartment and got my own place, not wanting to be a burden to him. I’ve always worked super hard to ensure I have a job to keep up with my bills. Guys like Logan have no idea how lucky they are to be handed those simple luxuries on a silver platter.

Of course, there’s money in the family now. After Joshua set up his business and got super rich, he left our old lifestyle behind. He offered me his money, but I didn’t want to take it. He earned it for himself, and I plan to do the same some day. There’s still time for all that. But right now, I’m doing something that might put my job on the line. If I’m wrong about how Logan feels, then this is a really dumb idea. He could have me fired. But if I’m right? Then this night might end exactly as all of my fantasies do.

With gratification.

Before I can change my mind, I buzz for his apartment. I don’t even know if he’ll be home yet. He could easily still be at the hospital. Every second feels like an hour as I wait for an answer. I clutch the flowers desperately. Maybe I should turn away. Maybe this was the worst idea ever. I’m about to run away when the speaker crackles and he answers.

“Hello?”

I clear my throat. “Um…hi. It’s Isabella. From work. I…I heard about the crash and I wanted to see…how you are?”

I want to kick myself. Why do I always sound so timid and unsure when I talk to Logan? Why did I phrase my last sentence as a question? I’m an idiot. I should never have come here.

Logan doesn’t seem to know how to respond. It’s all quiet on his end. The microphone crackles. “Isabella? Really?”

I nod, before realizing he can’t see me. “Yeah…I don’t have to stay. I mean, I can go.”

“Don’t do that. You just got here,” Logan purrs through the microphone. “Come on up. There’s an elevator inside.”

The lobby door buzzes open and I drift to it in shock, letting myself in and heading to the elevator in a daze. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m in my boss’ apartment building. If Joshua could see me now, he’d kill me. Even I think this is a bad idea, and I’m the one doing it.

Time is moving too quickly. I’ve spent days wanting to see him, and now it’s the last thing I want to do.

And sure enough, as the elevator opens for me on the top floor, there he is, waiting in his doorway with a smile on his face. He’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts, his hair disheveled as though he’s been sleeping. He looks unharmed save for a few scratches on his cheeks and neck. But his face is the last place I’m looking at. His chiseled torso is so defined that each line of his six-pack looks like a permanent fixture of his body and not the product of sweat and tears in the gym. It’s like the Gods themselves carved him.

And that’s not the only place that’s perfection. I can tell from the bulge in his boxers that he’s well endowed. I’ve never seen a man naked before, but even an amateur like me knows a big appendage when I see one. I’m a little breathless, still clutching the sad bunch of flowers in my hand like a lifeline. Logan watches me with a grin, looking me up and down slowly.

“Are you planning to come any closer?” he asks. I’m still in the elevator. If I don’t move soon, it’ll take me back down to the ground floor and I know I won’t have the courage to come back up again. I approach him tentatively, holding my breath in silence. He raises his eyebrows at the flowers, looking amused.

“Are those for me?” he asks. He’s laughing at me silently. I can tell. I hand them over and avoid his gaze. In fact, I avoid looking at him entirely. There’s too much of his skin on display for it to be appropriate to look at any part of him.

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