Page 3 of Demanding Mob Boss

I felt something like this. Once. A long time ago. But it wasn't this strong.

My world exists in shades of grey. Right now, a kaleidoscope of colors surrounds Anna Lake like a damn aura. I don't believe in that shit.

But I can't look away from her. From the color. From thefeelingsbombarding my insides. Feelings I would have told you ten minutes ago I don't have the capacity to experience.

It is only my iron control that stops me grabbing the little beauty, throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her up to my penthouse. How much Lachlan will bitch if I kidnap a woman in front of witnesses from our own HR department helps me keep my urges under control too.

But I want to take her and keep her until I figure whatever this is out.

I can see myself doing it. Picking her up. Ignoring her shocked scream. Holding her kicking legs so she doesn't fall off my shoulder. My muscles bunch with anticipation.

Anna blinks. Innocence shining out at me from her eyes. She looks at me like she's happy I'm here.

People are rarely happy to see me.

My sister sure as hell isn't. Shea is glaring.

But this sweet little morsel watches me like I'm all that and a new, fully loaded gun.

Women play their roles in my life. Mother. Sisters. Soldiers. Employees. I do not have lovers. I do not date.

I don't do relationships. Hell, I don't do sleepovers.

I do not feel whatever it is that makes men want to keep women in their bed. Once I get my rocks off, I'm done. I prefer getting blown because there are fewer complications. Less talking that way too.

But the thought of never seeing Anna Lake again fills me with a killing rage. It does not matter that we haven't spoken more than a dozen words. Or that we met only moments ago.

An atavistic certainty that this woman is mine settles low in my gut. I'm about to complicate the hell out of her life. She caught the attention of the apex predator and I always take down my prey.

I almost feel sorry for the sweet thing, but that's too much like regret. An emotion I don't experience.

ANNA

I can't look away from Mr. Doyle. Ienjoylooking at him. He is handsome and I like the red gold of his hair. It’s so different from my boring blonde.

There's an odd expression in his blue eyes though. Like he's hungry and I’m his next meal. I don't always read emotions right in other people, so I'm sure I'm wrong.

But if I am right? I don't mind. And that is really strange because I don't like being noticed. I don't like being the center of attention either, but I want this man's attention.

I want it a lot.

"Anna, you have been here all morning?" he asks me.

I force a single word past my suddenly tight throat. "Yes."

"Who do you think would make a good receptionist?"

Taking his question seriously, I consider everything I have seen and heard this morning.

Then I point to an older woman, who has been here since 7:30 AM just like me. "Her."

"Why?" He asked me.

Do I have enough words right now to explain? I've been psyching myself up for the interview, but if I use my words up with him, I won't have any left for that. I need this job, but Ihave toanswer Mr. Doyle. Even if there are no words left to talk to Mrs. Bantry.

Only Mrs. Bantry won't be interviewing anyone else, will she?

Relieved that I can use up my words without worrying about later, I say, "She’s kind. She answers questions but does not pretend to know more than she does."

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