Bossy: A Billionaire Boss Office Romance (Alpha Second Chances Book 4)

by Rowena

  I get the feeling I’ll find a closet full of new outfits waiting for me.

  I wonder if I should have even bothered bringing my old wardrobe.

  “It’ll be a five-star restaurant, so dress nice,” he says. “I’m sure the debutante in you knows what to do.”

  Then the door is closed and he’s gone.

  My heart sinks at the disappearance of his handsome, chiseled face, but I quickly remember I’ll see him again pretty soon, and the joyous lightness I’d experienced earlier returns.

  I wouldn’t change a damned thing about the living room—it is absolute perfection in its sharp, elegant black-and-white scheme.

  The kitchen is stacked with appliances I’d missed dearly—items I’d had to accept parting with once I left them outside as I was moving into my last place, robbed of my microwave and blender before they could even make it inside.

  Now, I have access to those again and other things I’d easily taken for granted before—a juicer, an espresso maker.

  Heck, I even have a dishwasher!

  The refrigerator is also a massive upgrade, and when I open it, I see that it’s been stocked with some basics.

  There’s a note on the front of it that says to make note of specific grocery items and they’ll be obtained for me.

  From what I understand, I’ll have a shopper—someone who’ll go out and get what I need. Sweet!

  I exit the kitchen but don’t bother to move my luggage from their place on the living room floor just yet because I don’t want their old filth to spoil any of the new rooms I’m about to see.

  The first one I get to is a bedroom.

  It’s also larger than my entire previous living space with a king-sized bed.

  I immediately have to fight off images of Jaxson and me rolling around on it, our naked limbs entwined, concentrating on the details of the bedroom instead.

  The decor is neutral—it doesn’t read feminine or masculine, but it’s beautifully balanced and appropriate for any sex. It’s mostly mahogany and white, the careful coordination of selected pieces evident.

  I resist crawling into the bed to feel the soft-looking bedding against my skin for now, heading over to the closet instead. It has far more space than I’ll ever need and is stocked with items of clothing and shoes in my size.

  I sigh dreamily, a silly smile on my face as I move to check out the other areas of my new suite.

  It’s the bathroom that does me in.

  Once I get a load of it, my chest fills to capacity, and my tight throat finally gets a bit of relief when I can’t hold back tears anymore after a few emotional seconds.

  He remembered.

  Jaxson is clearly responsible for the decor here—it’s decorated in lilac and white, with vases of orchids accenting the room and the scent of vanilla in the air. My favorite colors, my favorite flowers, my favorite scent.

  Jaxson and I talked about the kind of house we wanted to live in several times during our young courtship.

  I told him I wanted one just like the one I grew up in—a large five-bedroom home since I imagined having at least three kids and a guest room. As for the master bedroom, I told him I wanted it to have two bathrooms.

  “No offense,” I’d said, “but I need my own bathroom. I want to decorate it very specifically. Lilac and white—too feminine for you, of course—with vases of orchids and vanilla candles. Your bathroom can be decorated with rocks and cars or whatever you guys like,” I’d finished jokingly.

  What I’m looking at is pretty much exactly as I described to him, more than I even imagined. The color scheme, the decor, the patterns—this place was tailor-made for me.

  It couldn’t be clearer that Jaxson wanted to make sure I felt welcome, comfortable, home—just as he’d said.

  He really was helping to get the place ready for me; he tried to make me happy.

  Emotion overwhelms me and I end up sitting on the shiny tile, sobbing into my hands as memories and contrition assault me.

  Eventually, I get up and take a long, warm shower—the adjustable shower head another long-forgotten luxury.

  I pick out an outfit for my dinner date with Jaxson, finding myself getting ready as if it’s a real date instead of just a meet-up to get a basic need met; after all, Jaxson didn’t invite me out because I’d been suddenly extricated from my old home and supplies—he could have just had food delivered here in that case. Plus, the cupboards and refrigerator here aren’t exactly empty, so this dinner is about more than just helping me fill my belly after my sudden move.

  Jaxson asked me out because he wanted to; he wants to hang out with me.

  I suddenly feel sure that, no matter how mad he still might be at me, he still likes me.

  He has made that crystal clear with everything he has done for me so far.

  8

  Jaxson

  I’m disappointed Candace didn’t choose to live on my premises, but I’m not surprised; I don’t blame her one bit.

  How strange it would be for her to move into a home I’d built with her in mind! Not because I thought I’d ever see her again, but because her vision of the home she wanted us to have dominated my thoughts on the matter.

  My house has always made me feel like she’s with me in a way, which has been both a blessing and a curse.

  I still imagine having kids someday, so I don’t regret all the extra bedrooms, but no matter what I do, I can’t seem to fill the space adequately.

  I haven’t had a serious girlfriend since Candace, though I’ve had a few long-term arrangements—the longest lasting about two months since that’s about the time a woman seems to be on the verge of requiring more commitment or something of the sort, which I always make clear from the beginning I’m unwilling to give.

  I sever relationships before anyone can get too attached, quickly moving on to new prey.

  This has been working quite well for me—I’m never alone if I don’t want to be, and I usually distract myself enough to avoid the thing that hits me every now and then without warning—the awareness that no matter how many millions I make, how many friends and colleagues and random women I spend my time with, something is glaringly missing.

  I never had the luxury of being unaware of what that thing was—I’ve always known it was Candace, but I had accepted I wasn’t getting her back.

  Despite what I’d been telling myself, now that she has reemerged, that nagging feeling has disappeared, and I can’t pretend to be fine with it ever again. There’s no way I can act like she doesn’t exist; there’s no going back now.

  As soon as I seduce Candace back into my bed and my way back into her heart, my life will be complete.

  All I need right now is patience; we both still have some healing and further catching up to do.

  I make the mistake of meeting Candace at her new suite instead of having her come down to my waiting car.

  I have a key to her unit, but I knock, announcing my arrival.

  The vision that opens the door stuns me—a smiling Candace fully made up, hair styled as I haven’t seen before, and wearing one of the dresses I’d gotten for her.

  She looks beautiful, but it’s the carefree look of her that gets me, the genuine warmth and sparkle in her eyes and smile.

  I almost cancel our dinner plans to seduce her right there and then, but remind myself that it could be a huge mistake—we need to move slowly.

  But the temptation is great with the bedroom not very far away; in fact, who needs a bedroom? The couch is right there, the kitchen counter top...

  “I love what you did with the bathroom,” Candace says warmly, knocking me out of my charged state as I process her words, forcing me to focus. “Thank you.”

  “Sure,” I say, sticking out my arm for her to take so we can get the hell out of here before I change my mind and fuck her silly.

  I can barely take my eyes off of her.

  I have to make a conscious effort to steer my attention elsewhere.

  Candace and I a
re silent for most of the car ride, though she asks a few questions about the restaurant I’m taking her to.

  “You look lovely, by the way,” I say, almost choking on the understatement.

  “You clean up pretty well yourself,” she says with a half-smile that drops quickly.

  She looks self-conscious all of a sudden, and I wonder if it has to do with the fact that she never saw me in a suit before the day of her job interview.

  Maybe she thinks she has offended me, that she’d made an unintentional dig at my pauper past.

  I let the silence hang for a while.

  “I trust the clothing and shoes are the right sizes? If anything is off, just let me know and I’ll have it replaced,” I say eventually.

  “You did a remarkable job of guessing my sizes—especially considering I’m not as thin as I once was.”

  “I have some practice,“ I say flatly, leaving it there.

  This certainly isn’t the first time I’ve dressed a woman.

  She doesn’t seem to like my admission, but what did she expect? I didn’t exactly join a monastery after she dumped me.

  It may have taken a while to accept she had left me for good, but once I realized I had to move on, I did, taking my frustrations out on one poor woman after the next, coldly using them for whatever need I had at the time.

  I eventually got kinder in my approach, but certainly not gentler.

  “I did some more homework on you, and it looks like you never ended up in law school. What happened?” I ask as we await our first course.

  Candace has been avoiding my eyes for some reason, glancing around the restaurant as if trying to memorize the decor inch by inch.

  She is clearly uncomfortable, and I’m not sure why beyond her obvious attraction to me.

  Her fingers have been tapping the table, and she seems completely unaware of it, but my question makes her fingers stop and brings those lovely brown eyes of hers to my face.

  She jams her hands in her lap.

  “Once Charles and I started dating, it seemed a good idea to attend college where he was. It worked out because it was one of the schools I’d liked but hadn’t planned to go to because…”

  “It would have taken you far from me. I know.”

  “Right. So he was two years in already, but he and I ended up finishing up about the same time because, by the time I was done with my bachelor’s program, he was finishing his master’s at the same school. We began our new life together from there.”

  “How come you guys didn’t have kids?”

  “He let me know pretty early in the marriage he wasn’t interested.”

  “You guys didn’t talk about it before getting married?”

  “Not really. And I guess I just assumed it would happen. My fault—I should have clarified. I didn’t exactly do my due diligence back then. Anyway, he had a vasectomy, so he was damned sure about his decision.”

  “So what did you do with your time? You mentioned working part-time…”

  “Charity and volunteer work. Literacy programs, organizing fundraisers…”

  “Do you still want kids?”

  She looks startled, and it takes her a moment to respond.

  “Yes,” she says quietly.

  “Three?” I say with a knowing grin.

  She grins back, to my relief; I don’t want everything from our past to be a landmine.

  “Maybe two now that I’m a grown-up and can see better what that would mean. But I absolutely still want to be a mother.” She pauses a moment then says, “What about you? I’m assuming you have no one special right now, considering you’re here with me and…”

  “And what happened the other day in my office?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily assume someone’s single because of that; guys like you—rich, powerful, handsome—don’t tend to respect the usual relationship boundaries. Even guys not so rich or powerful or good-looking cheat, so…”

  “I don’t cheat. I move on quickly and often. My partners are never tricked into thinking commitment is possible; I’m honest about my intentions from the get-go.”

  She nods, remaining quiet for a few moments.

  Our second course arrives.

  “You didn’t answer me—do you still imagine settling down someday and having kids?” she asks as she starts to dig in.

  “If I find the right woman, sure. Though I haven’t exactly been looking.”

  She nods again, seeming to make a conscious effort to avoid my eyes as long as she can.

  We find lighter things to talk about and have uninterrupted conversation for the rest of the meal, straight through a shared dessert—one I didn’t want but she made me eat half of so she didn’t get tempted to overdo the calories.

  I ignore her comment about watching her figure, wishing she’d just indulged; who knows the last time she’s been able to treat herself?

  The air around us remains light and pleasant as we finish up and head to the car, and I seriously can’t remember the last time I felt this way.

  I’ve had lots of pleasant dates, but I never let any guards down the way I do when I’m with Candace, and feeling this relaxed heightens every emotion so that now, instead of just feeling pleased, satisfied, or contented, I feel... happy.

  9

  Jaxson

  Things change once we enter the car, however—closed up in a small space with Candace, low light, and no pressure to order something, the quiet opens up pathways to other types of thoughts—thoughts that are never far away but temporarily shut behind a door for some reason or other.

  Thoughts involving relieving Candace of her clothing.

  I could do it right here—there’s more than enough space in the back of this limo, and a privacy glass between us and the driver.

  I can keep my mouth over hers to stifle most sound as I plow her mercilessly.

  My cock expands; it wants to be sliding in and out of her right now.

  But after all this time, I don’t want our second first time to be in the back of a car; I don’t want it to feel like a quick, desperate fuck. Although if something doesn’t distract me soon, my dick will get exactly what it wants—buried deep in her slick warmth sooner than later, regardless of where we are.

  I have to adjust myself and she notices.

  I realize she’s breathing harder, her chest rising and falling quickly, her eyes looking concerned.

  Her mouth hangs open slightly, indicating arousal, despite the way she’s holding her legs together.

  She knows she’s in danger here, and she wants what I have to give her, but she’s afraid of what’ll come with it.

  She’s not the only one.

  I promised myself not to get in a position where a woman had the kind of power Candace held over me again, but here I am, my weakness for her back with a vengeance—although I have better control over it this time around. I can keep her at a desired distance to a degree, but I can feel it sneaking up on me—the protectiveness, the affection, the... love I had for her—it’s all creeping back and I’m not sure I can stop it short of sending her packing in every way.

  Even then I’d be fooling myself; there’s no way I could banish her from my thoughts, especially when she’s clearly in need in so many ways. But even if she wasn’t, not seeing her would become more painful than anything else.

  I need to claim her in every possible way or else risk driving myself mad.

  “I had a really great time,” she says in a somewhat shaky voice.

  I bet she’s dripping wet already.

  I slide closer to her and hear her gasp.

  I bring a hand to her chin, tilting her face up a bit before crashing my lips down on hers, kissing her fiercely.

  My tongue shoots past her lips to explore while my other hand finds her thigh, resting there while I hungrily plow her warm mouth.

  My cock is throbbing with need and my hand starts making its way up her thigh toward her panties.

  I have every intention of laying
her down on the seat and working her dress up, doing the minimum of sliding her panties aside and releasing my dick from my pants to shove inside her.

  At some point, I realize she’s been trying to pull her lips from mine, and when I finally let her, she says, “not here” in a breathy, labored voice.

  I growl in frustration, struggling to process the interruption, but then it sinks in that the car has stopped, the driver patiently parked and waiting.

  It dawns on me that Candace is probably self-conscious, the sudden silence as the car sits idling wigging her out despite the tinted windows.

  Nobody but the driver would be able to hear us, but I guess that’s one person too many.

  I can’t help but smile at her modest concern.

  “Upstairs,” she says with a nod to my relief, confirming she’s still on board.

  I’m unaware of any other details as we leave the car and make our way up to the penthouse, the next thing registering being the inside of the suite as we make our way inside.

  I visually scan the room for a handy location then quickly come to a decision—we’re christening that bedroom of hers.

  I pick her up easily, savoring the feel of her soft body in my arms and walk her there, letting her down once we enter the room to get started on undressing her.

  She starts pulling off her dress before I can, and while she’s doing that, I unbutton and shed my shirt and pants.

  I’m standing there in my boxers, about to start ripping off her remaining clothing—a deep purple lacy bra and panty set, courtesy of moi—when she reaches out to touch my chest, sending a zap of electricity through me, that reaches my dick, making it throb with need behind the black boxer-briefs.

  I try to ignore it while I take in the sight of her half-clothed body, her full breasts teasing me from behind the pretty lace. I can’t help but smile, delighted she accepted my gifts.

  “God, Jaxson,” she says as she feels up my hard, muscular chest. “You’re so… you look a lot different.”