by Olivia Hayle
I clasped my hand to my mouth. “Oh my God. I am so sorry, that was my drink, wasn’t it?”
Julian Hunt looked down. “I think so. Strawberry daiquiri, was it?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry.” My cheeks were on fire. “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning.”
He smiled—actually smiled at that. “Certainly not. I’m just happy you weren’t injured in the fall.”
I blinked. “No. No, I wasn’t injured. I… where is my bag?”
We both looked at the dark club floor in silence. We were by the exit, so there was more light, but still not enough. I was also looking at it far closer than I would have liked, being barefoot on this disgusting surface.
Julian found it first, grabbing the navy clutch hidden along the dark baseboard. “This it?”
“Yes. Thank you again.”
“Anytime.” He cocked his head. “Did you have a good time tonight?”
For a long moment, all I could do was stare into the curious green eyes looking back at me. Julian Hunt—billionaire playboy, America’s tech sweetheart—was prolonging the moment. Making conversation with me.
“Yes, it was all right.”
“That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.”
Maybe it was the fall, or maybe it was the teasing glint in his eyes, but I surprised myself with my answer. “I don’t know if you heard, but there was a launch party tonight for an app. A bunch of rowdy Silicon Valley types were making a lot of noise from the VIP section.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Sort of ruined the mood for the rest of us, to be honest.” I bent forward, and dear God, I was flirting with him. “Don’t let them know, if you see one.”
Julian’s smile turned crooked. “Oh, don't worry. I stay far away from that crowd.”
My heart was beating fast. This was too much, and I was too inexperienced at this. This wasn’t a college guy fumbling around. This was a man, a man who was experienced and wealthy and used to perfection and by God was he handsome. I wetted my lips.
“Thanks again for finding my bag.”
Julian looked amused. “One of my lesser talents.”
“Very impressive.”
“I’m sure.” He looked out toward the parking lot. “Were you heading out?”
“Yes, I was planning to. My car is parked here.”
“But now you can’t.”
My eyes widened. I couldn’t leave? Because now I had met him?
But then he glanced down at my bare feet. “Because you have no shoes.”
“Oh. Right. I don’t.”
He shrugged. “There’s only one thing to do then.”
Before I could register what he was doing, Julian Hunt bent and put his arms around me. I was lifted up with a very unflattering screech.
“What are you doing?”
“You can’t walk barefoot out of a nightclub,” he said, not looking winded in the least. “There might be glass on the pavement.”
"But… this is weird.” I was being carried by a veritable stranger—a famous stranger—and I hadn't been carried like this since I was twelve.
His crooked smile was back. “I’ve never been bothered by ‘weird.’”
Julian Hunt smelled good. Too good. My arm wrapped around his neck as an employee opened the front door for us.
“Valet stand?”
“To the left.”
People were lingering outside, some in line to get in and others just out for a smoke. All of them watched us walk across to the valet stand. My cheeks had to be on fire, that’s how hot they felt.
Julian didn’t put me down when we arrived, just looked at me expectantly. So did the valet worker.
“Oh, right! Let me just find it.” I clawed through my bag in search of the ticket. Seemingly unable to stop myself, I rambled on. “My heel broke, by the way. That’s why… that’s why he’s being chivalrous.”
The valet worker accepted my ticket with a grin. “I’m sure, miss.”
He disappeared to fetch my car and I glanced up to see Julian grinning too. He was far too close like this—it was impossible to ignore just how excruciatingly handsome he was. He always had been, on the magazine covers and online interviews. But weren’t famous people supposed to be, well, just less when you saw them in person? Shorter than you expected, or less attractive? They were not supposed to be more good-looking.
“You can put me down now,” I said. “This will take a while.”
In a smooth movement, Julian let me slide down. My feet touched the cold pavement and I pulled my jacket tighter around me.
“Stand in your shoes?”
I nodded and slipped them on, mismatched heights and missing heels and all. "Thanks for carrying me."
“Just being chivalrous,” he repeated with a smile. “I have to say, I’ve had a lot of women do interesting things to get my attention, but fake-falling is new.”
My eyes snapped to his face. “What?”
“I’m complimenting you on your ingenuity. The drink was a nice touch.”
For a long moment, all I could do was stare at him. Julian Hunt might be handsome, but he was surely not humble.
“You’re serious,” I said slowly. “How arrogant do you have to be to believe I willingly tripped just to get your attention?”
His lips quirked at my tone, and the fact that he was enjoying my outrage only made me angrier. “You’re unbelievable. Do you think I snapped my heel on purpose? Waited for the right moment when you passed by the exit?”
Julian’s dark eyes were alight. “You have a temper.”
“I do when I’m being accused of… of… I’m not even sure what to call it.”
“Entrapment?”
“Yes. That.”
“Are you OK driving yourself home?”
I blinked at him. “Um, yes. Of course."
“Are you sure? I could drive you home, if not. My Porsche is parked just over there." He nodded to the front.
I couldn't help myself—I laughed. This man was unreal. “Was it really necessary to mention the car brand in that sentence?"
His smile turned bashful, and then a bit teasing. "No. I'm bragging, aren't I?"
"I think you are."
"Damn." He ran a hand through his admittedly very thick hair. “You really didn’t fall on purpose, did you?”
“Absolutely not. It was humiliating.”
“How much have you had to drink tonight?”
“I fell because my heel snapped, not because I’m drunk.”
Julian glanced down at the stain on his shirt that appeared to prove otherwise, but I was quick to correct him. “That was virgin.”
“Oh?”
“Um, yes. The drink.”
“Thanks for clarifying.”
My cheeks flushed again. This was going all wrong, he was infuriating, and I needed to get home. I pushed my long hair back and saw his eyes follow the movement.
“I don’t usually fall on strangers.”
His grin was back. “I’m honored that I was the chosen one tonight, then.”
The valet boy still hadn’t returned with my car and I tugged my jacket tighter. Julian didn’t seem remotely bothered by our odd interaction or the sudden silence. He looked just as serenely calm as in the photos of him, jawline screaming masculinity and competence and power.
Arrogant man.
I was not like him—the uncomfortable silence was unbearable. “Do you come here often?”
“As a matter of fact, no, I don’t. Only when apps are launching and there’s rowdiness to be had.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling, despite myself. “Of course. A favorite past-time, is it?”
He shrugged, powerful shoulders stretching out a perfectly fitted suit jacket. The man had held me for near on three minutes without a change in his breathing. “It’s practically a national sport in my circles.”
“Are you heading home now too?”
He nodded. “Yes. But I’m—”
/> A voice called out from across the parking lot. “Julian, my man! Are you coming?”
A blond man stood across the parking lot, his arm around a brunette in strappy heels. They were standing next to a Hummer with music blaring.
“Duty calls?”
He ran a hand through his thick hair, a faintly embarrassed look on his face. “I don’t go to a lot of launches. This isn’t my scene.”
“I’m sure it’s not. Just like you don’t have a lot of experience with women fake tripping just to catch your attention.” I rolled my eyes and his lips quirked up again.
“Because of your shoes,” he said softly and caught a flyaway strand of hair. Gently, he tucked it back in place behind my ear, and I stopped breathing.
“Can I call you?”
Definitely not breathing.
I found myself giving a shallow nod. “If you don’t insult me again.”
The eyebrow quirked again. “I’ll be on my very best behavior. Promise.”
The sound of an approaching engine cut the intimacy as my car pulled up next to us. It looked small and ordinary suddenly, standing next to the magnificence that was Julian Hunt.
The valet got out and left the car in idle. "All yours, ma'am."
“Thank you.” I slipped out of my shoes and handed him a tip. “I guess this is it. I’m sorry about your shirt again.”
Julian leaned against my car and held the door open for me. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me your name.”
“Emily.”
“Emily?”
"Emily Giordano."
The mischievous look was back in his eyes. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.” Julian bent so that we were eye to eye. “Well, I’ll be in touch, Ace.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “Ace?”
“You could have barreled into anyone tonight, but you hit me.” He winked. “You have excellent aim.”
I opened my mouth to protest the sheer arrogance of his statement, but he shut my door with a grin and took a few steps back. With shaky motions, I put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot.
What the hell had just happened?
I had met Julian Hunt. He had strong arms and a crooked smile and he smelled amazing. I had probably never been so instantly attracted to a man before in my life.
And then he asked if he could call me.
Things like this—meeting men like this—didn’t happen to me. It never did and it never had.
He likely had no intention of calling me, and I wasn’t even sure I would pick up if he did. He was arrogant and obnoxious… and funny. Besides, he hadn’t even asked for my number!
I shook my head at my own musings. I would never see Julian Hunt again, and that was probably for the best. I couldn’t start comparing regular men to his standard or I’d be single for life.
I ignored the small part of my brain that wanted to think of maybes and what-ifs.
Julian Hunt was not for me, and I was certainly not for him.
Continue reading Arrogant Boss in Kindle here!
ABOUT OLIVIA
Olivia loves billionaire heroes despite never having met one in person. Taking matters into her own hands, she creates them on the page instead. Stern, charming, cold or brooding, so far she's never met a (fictional) billionaire she didn't like.
A voracious reader of romance, Olivia picked up the pen a few years back and what followed was nothing short of a love affair of her own. Now she spends her days giggling at the steamy banter she's writing or swooning at their happily-ever-afters.
Smart and sexy romance—those are her lead themes!
Join her newsletter for bonus content.
www.oliviahayle.com.
Connect with Olivia