Page 28 of Craving Danger

Samantha

Preparing a cup of coffee for Mr. Vitale, I can’t stop thinking about last night.

It went so much better than I expected.

A smile plays around my mouth as I place the cup and two cookies on a tray.

Even though the evening started off rocky, it ended on a high note. I spent over two hours with a man, and not once did I feel panicky.

I’m on the right track, and I’m confident I’ll be able to regain my trust in men with the help of my mystery man.

Obviously, I’ll always be cautious when dating, and I’m not just going to allow anyone into my life.

But this is a good start, and where I would usually feel depressed after a panic attack, I feel optimistic.

Carrying the tray to Mr. Vitale’s office, I set it down on the corner of his desk before heading back to my desk.

I’m bracing myself for Mr. Vitale’s anger because I snooped around in his house, but I have an apology ready.

Just as I reach my chair, Mr. Vitale comes down the hallway. Today, he’s dressed in a dark blue suit, and as always, the man looks way too handsome for his own good.

The usual nervousness I feel around my boss spins in my stomach as I say, “Morning, sir.”

He doesn’t even look at me as he mutters, “Morning.”

I watch Mr. Vitale disappear into his office and follow him inside. “I just want to apologize for last night. You have a beautiful home.”

“Close the door on your way out.”

Asshole. It’s not like I committed a crime.

I think.

Suppressing a huff, I shut the door behind me and take a seat at my desk. Within seconds, my inbox is bombarded with emails from my grumpy boss, and I get to work.

Fine, so I invaded his privacy a little. I said I’m sorry and I won’t do it again.

Letting out the huff that’s been impatiently waiting, I focus on my work so I can stay one step ahead of my boss.

The morning flies by at the speed of light, and before I know it, it’s lunchtime.

Dialing Mr. Vitale’s extension, I wait for him to grunt like he always does, then ask, “What would you like to eat, sir?”

“You can choose today,” he replies.

Really?

“Pizza?”

“Sure.”

He hangs up on me, but I couldn’t care less because I’m getting my favorite takeout, and the company is paying for it.

I place an order for two pizzas, asking for all the toppings and extra cheese.

While waiting for our lunch to arrive, I dart between my desk and the boardroom, where I’m preparing everything for tomorrow’s meeting.

When our food arrives, I grab a plate from the kitchenette and place four slices on it. Adding a bottle of water to the tray, I carry the meal to Mr. Vitale’s office and knock before I open the door.

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