Page 6 of The Jealous Boss

I glance at the dashboard clock. I’m screwed.Sarah is late. Drew will get home before me. He’ll see the package…

Too observant as always, Elijah rolls his eyes.“You really don’t have to wait. I can stay home alone for five minutes.”

Before I can argue, his mom’s Prius pulls up. Jumping out of the car, I grab his suitcase from the trunk of my Mercedes.Well, notmyMercedes, although Drew insists that I should think of it as mine.

Sarah shoots me a withering glance. If looks could kill, she would have murdered me years ago. But whatever, let her hate me. It’s notmyfault her husband is a creep.Turning away from her, I glance at the Mercedes. Elijah still hasn’t gotten out.

No, no, no.

Elijah hates going to his mom’s house, but him spending one weekend a month with her is best for everyone. Still, I can’t blame the kid. Sarah treats him like an inconvenient pet. And his stepdad is just, well, awful.

If it were just about what I preferred, Elijah would spend every day with me. I love the kid like a little brother. But if he refuses to come here, his parents will end up back in.

“Well? Are you going to hand him over?” Sarah demands.

I nearly retort that Elijah is a person, notproperty. But he defuses the situation by finally exiting the car.

He takes the suitcase from me. “It’s not your job to lug my stuff around, Anna.”

“That’s my little man. So chivalrous,” Sarah coos in a saccharine tone that takes on a harder edge as she adds, “Such a thoughtful boy, he’s even polite to the help.”

Ignoring her, I pull Elijah into a hug. Sarah is still glaring, so all I say is, “Bye, be good.” Then I kiss him on the cheek and get into the car.

Elijah rubs his cheek.“Ugh, I’m too old for kisses.”

“See you Sunday night,” I reply, hating the reminder that it’s time for me to move on.

Yet I know he’s right. Well, maybe not about there being an age limit on expressions of affection. But heisgrowing up. Soon, my contract expires, and his dad hasn’t mentioned renewing it.But why would he?Elijah doesn’tneed a full-time nanny anymore. And neither does Drew.

Crap! Drew! He’s going to beat me home.

I try to stay calm as the car crawls through the rush hour traffic. But it’s a losing battle.Because that package that was just delivered?

It was a sex toy. A vibrator, to be exact.I’ll die if Drew finds out.

The thought of him accidentally opening it, then seeing that it was addressed to me… I couldn’t live with the embarrassment. But more than that, I couldn’t stand the shame of him guessing my secret. And he might if he sees what I’ve ordered.

Elijah’s powers of observation? He gets those from his dad.

Drew Chase. My ultra-wealthy, hot-as-hell, and way-too perceptive employer.

Well, he’s too perceptive aboutsomethings. He hasn’t discovered my secret yet or he’d have fired me. And I doubt he knows that I think he’s hot. Not that I’m alone in finding Drew attractive. Most women do. How could they not?

There’s a quiet intensity to him that draws you in—more so even than his sinful body. Dark hair, soulful eyes, chiseled jaw—he’s magnetic, whether wearing a bespoke suit or jeans and a T-shirt.

No, it’s perfectly normal that I think Drew’s hot. What’snotnormal are my fantasies. For the longest time, they were vague, half-formed. A mystery man with a blank face. That changed after Drew saved me. Suddenly, any time I closed my eyes, I’d see his face. And for three long years, that hasn’t changed.

Don’t get me wrong. They’rejustfantasies. I’d never do something as unprofessional as flirt with him. Besides, what would be the point when he’s so far out of my league?

Because he totally is. There’s nothing about me to interest a guy like Drew.

Sure, I’m good at my studies, but I have no life experience. My resume consists of six years of being an overpaid babysitter for one kid—two years as Elijah’s au pair, then another three-and-a-half as his nanny.

And I’m not even Drew’s type. Or at least, I’m pretty sure that I’m not. It’s hard to saysince if he dates, he’s secretive. But given that he marriedSarah, it’s safe to assume that she’s the sort of woman he likes—tall, thin, willowy, brunette. My exact opposite.

Oh, I get that there are different ways to be beautiful, and I know that I’m objectively pretty. Plenty of guys ask me out. Sure, they never want a second date, but that’s my fault for leading them on when I’m not really interested. I don’t mean to be a tease. Iwantto fall for a guy and finally lose my virginity. But every guy I’ve gone out with has left me cold.

My lack of physical response to perfectly nice, eligible men would be bad enough. But that’s not my secret. No, my secret is that I’m broken.

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