Page 31 of Craving Her Christmas Boss

‘Imogen—’

‘And as this is for you—’ she shoved the umbrella back at him ‘—you don’t need it gift-wrapped, do you?’

He ignored the umbrella and grabbed hold of her arm instead. Firmly. ‘My office,’ he said softly. ‘Now.’

‘Actually, Mr Taylor, I’m on my lunch break.’

He moved around the desk, still holding her arm. ‘Good. Because what I want to discuss is personal.’

‘I don’t want—’

‘I don’t want to do this in front of many of my employees and even more of my customers.’ He walked. ‘But I will if I have to do.’

She walked with him—stalked, really—in complete silence up the staff stairs and into his office. He closed the door behind them. He could feel Shona watching, but he didn’t care. Something had upset Imogen, and he needed to know what.

‘Explain what you meant. What woman?’

‘Saturday night. The casino,’ she breezed. ‘Don’t think I care. It doesn’t bother me at all.’

Ryan took a step back and leaned on the edge of his desk. Saturday night had been a commitment made before he’d even arrived in Edinburgh. A fundraiser at the casino with the who’s who of Scottish society and all the media darlings out in full force. It had been a good opportunity to meet some local business people. He’d bumped into Saskia on the way in and help to navigate the flashing bulbs. Looking at Imogen now, he couldn’t help feeling both satisfied and sardonic—and couldn’t quite hide either from his tone as he asked, ‘It doesn’t bother you?’

‘Of course not.’ She held her chin high, but wouldn’t meet his gaze. ‘But I don’t want to flirting with me when you have other fish to fry.’

He waited until she did look up at him—albeit sort of sideways. ‘Your eyes are looking very green today, Imogen.’

They flashed then—pure jealous fire.

He bit back his smile, knowing it would make her furious, but she must have seen it anyway because she took a sudden step forward. ‘You have it too easy, Ryan Taylor. Women, work—everything.’

‘Do I?’ He wasn’t findingherall that easy—quite the contrary.

‘Guys like you.’ She spat the words. ‘You’re born with more money than you could ever need, given the kind of privilege and power that can’t help but corrupt—’

His humour fled the scene as he absorbed her vehemence. ‘Tell me this, Imogen. What do youthinkyou know about guys like me?’ It was obvious she had a bad experience and he needed to understand it. ‘Who was he? What did he do to you?’

‘I’m not—’

‘It’s about time you talked. Come on—hit me with it. Let me know what I’m up against. Because you’re going off like this is way off base. So explain.Now.’

‘You want the whole sordid story?’ Her colour was high and her voice wobbled.

‘Every last detail.’

So he could get rid of her baggage and get on with getting her to trust him.

Imogen’s fury was a raw beast that had been brewing for forty-eight hours—since she’d watched the late news on Saturday night and seen that model woman draped all over Ryan as they’d walked into the casino. Jealousy wasn’t the word. She’d turned the rage on herself. His stupid, foolish, soft-hearted self.

‘His name was George. George Bailey-Jones Jr, to be precise.’ She hated herself for the way she’d succumbed to his double-barrelled charm. ‘He dazzled me, Ryan. He was smooth and fast and I was spinning. I couldn’t believe that a guy like him could be that into me.’

‘A guy like him?’

‘Wealthy—from one ofthefamilies. Successful. Someone. Being with him elevated me, right?’ She choked. ‘What a thrill to be chased by him, to have him flirt with me. He was on his knees for me—or so he said. What I didn’t know about was his gambling problem and his coke habit.’

‘What happened?’

‘He got in trouble—had several bad runs at the table. Hell, I’ve never even been inside a dam casino. I’m not interested. He came and picked me up late one night. I had no idea. Didn’t know why he was so upset.’

‘He was high?’

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