Page 28 of Runaway Bride for the Boss

She doesn’t even jump back or startle. She probably heard my car pull up, meaning she wanted me to find her in here. I need to start locking my bedroom door, at least while Andrea is still here. I never lock it because my staff would never dare cross me. Not my sister, though. She’s an unapologetic busybody, always sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.

“Not like you make it easy. The only accessible thing about this room is the door leading to it. Everything else is locked up,” she complains with an eyeroll.

I sigh, not in the mood to deal with her after the morning I’ve had. I fold my suit jacket and drop it into the laundry basket by the door and tug on my tie. I fold that as well and drop it into the basket.

Andrea’s gaze drops to the blood staining the front of my shirt. “Do I even want to know?”

“Why are you here, Andrea?”

“My apartment. When are you fixing it?”

“Soon,” I answer noncommittally. My man is going over today to check out what needs to be done, but I’m not going to tell her that. I like keeping her on her toes because she wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to me.

She rolls her eyes again, and I take off my shirt, ignoring her. I unbuckle my belt and move to unzip my trousers when she makes a sound of disgust. She makes sure to hit my shoulder with hers as she walks past me to the door.

“Asshole,” she mutters.

I lock the door behind her, not trusting her not to come back while I’m in the shower. Then I take off the rest of my clothes and walk to my en suite. I keep the shower short because I have an important meeting in two hours, and after getting dressed, I brush my hair back.

I opt to take the stairs down instead of the elevator. I’m almost at the front door when I remember the report I got on the woman I’m meeting soon: Charlotte Square, a potential business partner in my expansion of Beaufort Construction into Burlington.

I haven’t seen her in a year, and even then we didn’t exchange more than a few words, so I had my PI dig into her. According to my report she’s an avid fan of astrophysics and goes to several conferences and seminars a year. Even going as far as traveling to Australia a couple of months ago.

I backtrack to the first floor where my library is located. I have a few of Stephen Hawking's books on my shelves. My plan is to toss them on my desk for her to see when she comes in. It’ll be a good ice-breaker for this first meeting and soften her to work with us.

I draw the door open and pause when I see Autumn standing on her tiptoes trying to reach a book on a top shelf of the fiction section. She’s wearing the shirt –myshirt – that she wore thefirst night I saw her in my house with skimpy shorts that end just below her perfect ass.

She spins around and gasps when she sees me standing there. “Alexander.”

There’s something about the breathy way she says my name. I immediately want to hear her say it like that again, and again, and again, but in a different scenario, of course. The image of her tossing her head back on a moan as she rode me in my car yesterday floats through my mind, and I start walking toward her. Her eyes widen as she watches me approach, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips.

I swallow a groan at the sight of that pink tongue. I tasted it yesterday. In fact, the taste is seared into my brain, and right now the only thing I care about is devouring every inch of her.

CHAPTER 17

AUTUMN

Panic hits me when Alexander prowls toward me with that look on his face that tells me the only thoughts in his head are dark and full of desire, which can’t happen because Andrea is on the other side of this shelf!

I jump away from the shelf, heart nearly pounding out of my chest, and I raise my fingers to study the chipped polish on my nails. “Andrea, my polish looks awful, I forgot to ask you yesterday if I could use a shot of alcohol to clean the rest.”

Alex stops walking, tilting his head at me in question. I nod frantically, blinking to try to communicate that Andrea is in the room.

“Would that even work? I have some polish remover in my room, remind me to bring it to you later.” Andrea’s voice is distracted.

“Thanks. I love having freshly painted nails, but the least I can do is remove this chipped atrocity.” I smile as I say it. It was the only thing I didn’t let Larson change about me. Applying a coat – or several – of polish on my nails is my form of therapy, and a way for me to decompress. Of course, I only used nude polish after Larson and I got together, but still. What matters is I kept the ritual all for myself.

“You know, when I get my first paycheck, the first thing I’m buying is bright red nail polish. I miss it too much.” I glance up, making my eyes go wide in hopes that will infuse my voice with surprise. “Oh, hi, Alex. Hey, Andrea, didn’t you say you needed to talk to him?”

Alex’s lips part as he watches me, his eyes darkening. My cheeks heat up because I know what that look means.

Andrea strolls out from behind the shelf. “Yeah, well, I already spoke to him this morning. I don’t need to anymore. Why are you here?”

Alexander doesn’t answer; in fact his, gaze doesn’t shift from me. Fuck, he’s going to give us away after all my hard work. What am I even thinking? There’s nothing to give away! But I can’t help the stab of guilt.

“Um, thanks for the phone.” I mutter, hoping that will get him moving.

He grips a hand behind his neck, clearly agitated, then abruptly turns away and marches to the row of bookshelves on the other side of his impressive home library. There are thousands upon thousands of books here, all categorized on dark, mahogany shelving. There’s even a wooden ladder that runs along a gold bar for reaching the higher shelves. A plush velvet armchair is situated by the window; the perfect spot to sip a hot chocolate and get lost in a new read while rain pelts the glass. It’s a book lover’s heaven, and I’ve taken full advantage of it.

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