Page 49 of Bossalicious Bad Boy

Part of me wants to hate Alexander, and most of me hates his father. But if it’s true, and Alexander really had no idea what his father was up to, is it fair for me to hold this against him?

What would Dad think?

A wave of pain hits me. My father lost everything, and it ruined him. After his company fell apart, he worked odd jobs as a copywriter. He never fully recovered. How can I possibly work for, much less care for, anyone who might have had a role in hurting him?

Alexander isn’t responsible for his father’s actions, but he benefited from them. He benefited so much that he’s running what should have been my father’s company.

Should have been mine.

That wave of anger carries me to the edge of the hall before it implodes into hurt.

Alexander didn’t know.

I could see it in his eyes as he apologized. The pain and rare vulnerability there told me he couldn't have possibly known. I’ve been punishing us both out of loyalty to my father, but while Alexander’s father is scum, he never forced my father to pick up a bottle.

My dad made his own bad choices, too.

And they’re not Alexander’s fault or mine.

Instead of walking down to the parking lot, I turn around and walk back to Alexander’s office. I knock on the door.

24

ALEXANDER

Clara comes back a few minutes later, eyes fiery, and sits in the armchair by my desk.

The office is filled with a heavy silence, and as I kneel in front of Clara between her chair and my desk, I can't help but study her. The tension in her posture is palpable, and I worry that I've pushed her too far this time. Her eyes are downcast, avoiding mine, and I struggle to read her emotions.

I search her eyes for any hint of what she's feeling, desperately trying to understand her better. But there's a wall there, one I haven't been able to breach yet. Internally, I vow to be more patient and supportive, knowing that it's the only way our friendship can grow.

I watch as a torrent of emotions play across her face. The vulnerability in her eyes is raw and heart-wrenching. “Just tell me what I can do to make this right.”

"Alex..." she whispers, her voice trembling ever so slightly. A moment later, Clara leans in to kiss me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me in close. The suddenness of her actions catches me off guard, but I can't deny the magnetic pull between us.

"Clara," I gasp against her lips before hesitantly kissing her back. My hands instinctively find their way to her waist, marveling at how good she feels under my palms. Her body fits perfectly against mine, like two lost puzzle pieces finally clicking together.

"Please," she murmurs into our kiss, her eyes pleading with me for something more. I feel the weight of her need, the unspoken desire that hangs heavy in the air between us. But even as my body aches to oblige, I know that we're treading on dangerous ground.

I press my lips against hers again, allowing myself to get lost in the sensation of her. Our kisses grow deeper, hungrier, fueled by an insatiable thirst for connection and understanding.

My heart hammers in my chest as Clara's lips press against mine, her slender arms wrapped around my neck. I slide my hands down her body, the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips sending shivers down my spine. But suddenly, a pang of guilt washes over me – is this right? She's clearly still upset...

"Wait," I murmur, pulling away from her just enough to look into her bright green eyes. I cup her face gently with both hands, my thumbs brushing against her freckled cheeks. "I don't want you to do something you'll regret."

Her eyes hold mine, unwavering, as she bites her lower lip.

"Is it really what you want?" I ask, searching her gaze for any hint of doubt.

"Yes," she breathes, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. "Please."

I hesitate for a moment, wanting nothing more than to ease her pain and provide her with the solace she seeks. But I also know that I must be cautious, gentle, and considerate of her feelings. We tread on delicate ground, our roles as boss and intern blurring into something far more intimate and complex.

"Alright," I whisper, pressing my forehead against hers. "But if at any point you change your mind, just say the word. I'll stop immediately."

"Okay,” she huffs, the word barely out before she’s crashing back into me. Her taste is like heaven and I wrap my arms around her, wanting to erase the ache I saw on her face, heard in her voice.

And in that moment, I know that I would do anything to protect her.

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