Page 15 of Beauty and the Bosshole
I give him a wobbly smile. “Sure,” I lie.
Because no, I will never be comfortable again, but I can’t tell my boss that. Can’t tell him that the backs of my legs are sweaty and sticking to the leather seat of his fancy hired car; can’t tell him my head’s spinning; can’t tell him that I’ve got that restless, tingly feeling low in my tummy that says one orgasm was nowhere near enough. Can’t tell him that my bra straps are too tight, digging into my shoulders, and that the bright sunshine is giving me a headache, and I’ve got dry-mouth from the mystery pills. Can’t talk to him about any of this, okay?
We’re notfriends.
I can’t confide in Reese Donovan, bosshole extraordinaire.
My dumb ass kept him entertained on the flight—that’s all. If I hadn’t popped those pills and run my mouth like that, Reese would’ve buried his nose in his laptop and ignored me like usual.
Need to get past this. Need to act like nothing weird happened back there.
Sure, I got my rocks off for my asshole boss and collapsed into his arms. Just a regular Tuesday! We can course-correct.
“Shiny,” I say, pointing at a towering glass skyscraper outside. Guess my brain isn’t fully back online yet.
According to the sat nav, we’re getting closer to the hotel, winding our way through the city center. Even here in the business district, away from the 24-hour chapels and giant casinos that make Las Vegas the famous city of bad decisions, partiers crowd the sidewalks. It’s early in the day, but I count four feather boas out there. An Elvis impersonator yawns as his chihuahua squats outside a major bank.
“I’ll drop you at the hotel. Leave you to recover in your suite while I go meet Leon Anderson.” Reese’s mouth twitches, and Lord, give me the strength not to strangle this man with his own seatbelt. “You’ve had a busy morning, after all.”
“I will murder you in your sleep.”
Reese tuts, turning off the road into an underground parking lot. Sudden shadows wash over the car, plunging us into darkness. “Has anyone ever told you that you blow hot and cold, Ava?”
“I’m not—you’re such—I won’tblow—”
“Don’t get worked up.” Reese pats my thigh and I smack him away. Already, our closeness from the plane, the way we touched each other so freely high in the sky, feels like a million miles away. It makes my chest ache to remember it.
Back there, I was floating on a happy pink cloud. Freed from reality; not reallyAvaat all.
Now I’m crashing back to earth—hard enough to leave a crater in the Nevada desert. Seriously, what was I thinking?
I wanted it, yes. Wantedhimso badly—Reese Donovan. My gorgeous, infuriating boss. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve wanted him since day one. Despite his growly comments and his surlystares, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve wanted to crawl under his desk and help the grump loosen up.
But I also want to eat pistachio ice cream topped with crispy bacon bits for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The things Iwantaren’t always good for me. It’s not a lesson I want to learn the hard way.
My hands shake as I unclip my seatbelt and turn to Reese. The engine shudders and dies, the car suddenly silent around us. Here below ground, with the harsh sunshine and chaos of the city left overhead, we’re in a sudden pool of calm.
“This morning never happened,” I say.
It’s the same voice I use on Max when he scratches the legs of Gram’s old antique kitchen table. TheI-will-brook-no-argumentvoice. My sternest tone.
But Reese just smiles at me, weirdly sunny. The expression is unsettling on his brooding vampire features; I’m way more used to his frowns than his smiles. “Agree to disagree.”
He’s out of the car before I can argue, long legs unfolding into the parking lot. By the time I’m done sputtering after him, red-faced with frustration, Reese is opening the passenger door wide, holding out a hand to help me out of the car.
Ignoring his hand, I stumble out on jelly legs, nose in the air.
Dignity.That’s what we’re going for here, folks.
Dignity. Dig-ni-tee.
Though a tiny voice whispers in the back of my head that I’m in the wrong city for that.
“A moment please, Ava.”
The passenger door clicks shut, and Reese leans against it, hands in his pockets. Even when he’s not at his full height, my boss looms over me, dark hair rumpled from where he tugged at it in the car. Or didIruffle it up like that back on the plane? The ghostly memory of soft, thick hair tickles my fingertips, and my hands ball into fists.
Swallowing hard, I glance around the parking lot. A few other expensive-looking cars hunker in the spaces, their paint gleaming in the low light. The parking lot is huge, like a cavern stretching in all directions, and every sound we make is amplified—every scrape of a shoe against the concrete floor; every low word and sharp breath.