Page 92 of The Bossy One

When we broke for lunch, Ludvik led me through the streets to a nearby bistro. “I think perhaps there is someone very important on the other end of your phone, yes?”

I started. I thought I’d been more subtle than that.

But Ludvik didn’t seem insulted. Only a little mischievous at having caught me off my game. I could see why his employees liked him.

“My niece,” I said. “She’s touring Prague today. The updates I’ve been getting are pictures of the places she’s seeing.”

“Ah! I’m glad she is enjoying our fine city,” Ludvik said. “Does she have a tour guide?”

“She’s with my girlfriend,” I said, without thinking. It wasn’t until the words were out of my mouth that I realized how right they sounded. Olivia and I might have been a mess. We might have been on a break. But she wasmine,all the same.

Some of what I was feeling must have shown in my face, because Ludvik was watching me with a speculative look in his eye. “I sense some complication in this relationship?”

I grunted.

He clapped me on the back. “I will make a reservation for you and your family at the best restaurant in the city. Your woman will love it.”

I didn’t think a restaurant reservation would fix what was wrong between me and Olivia. But I thanked Ludvik. Then I turned the conversation back to business, doing my best not to think of her.

* * *

Olivia did indeed love the restaurant Ludvik suggested. At least she loved the photos she found of it online. It was a quaint little hole-in-the-wall in the Lesser Quarter, with checked tablecloths, candles on every table, and, if the reviews were to be believed, amazing food. So when I wrapped up my last meeting of the day at Orel, I returned to the hotel to meet up with Olivia and Catie so we could head there together.

“Ready to go, girls?” I called, stepping into the sitting room area.

Catie was sprawled on the couch in her favorite dress, flipping through a picture book. “Miss Olivia’s zipper is stuck. I got a book about puppets at the museum.”

“That sounds fun,” I said. I knocked on Olivia’s partially open door. “I hear you could use some help.”

Olivia opened the door, flushed from struggling with the zipper on a vibrant green dress. It was a lightweight fabric that clung to her torso and hips and flared out around her thighs. It looked classic and glamorous and made her red hair shine like gorgeous fire. I tamped down a fantasy of tipping Olivia back onto her bed and rescuing her from all of that pretty green fabric.

“I swear it zipped this afternoon in the changing room,” she said.

“You bought yourself a dress?” I hoped she’d put it on my credit card. She deserved to spoil herself.

“It’s a celebration dress,” she said. “I got good news today.”

“Oh?” I said.

Was it the kind of good news that would give us more time to figure out what we were, or the kind that would pull her away from me faster?

“I’ll tell you at dinner,” Olivia said. She turned to give me her bare back. The zipper was stuck about an inch below her waist. “Can you zip me up?”

She wasn’t wearing a bra, and that realization went straight to my cock.

I took hold of the delicate zipper and pinched the fabric. My knuckles brushed the warm, soft skin of her back. Olivia inhaled sharply.

I struggled to remember why I’d thought a break was such a good idea. It was physically painful to ease the zipper up, hiding all that deliciously bare skin from view.

“Done?” Olivia asked. Her voice was breathy.

“Done,” I said. My own voice was embarrassingly raspy. You’d think I’d never seen a woman’s back before.

Olivia slipped on her heels, and we headed out to the restaurant.

The reviews were right. The food was amazing. And the waiter was even able to suggest something a picky American six-year-old loved. The only possible criticism was that the place was so small, Olivia ended up all but pressed into my side as we ate—but I certainly wasn’t complaining about that.

“So what’s this good news?” I asked, needing a distraction to keep me from jumping her.

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