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

by Rowena

  I arranged to have her workspace set up, so she can now head over to her desk in the corner and familiarize herself with the computer until Melody returns to train her further.

  But I’m having trouble concentrating as she predicted I might, and an object starts burning one of my pockets.

  I’d dug through storage the day Candace and I first ran into each other again, later that evening. I found what I was looking for—something I felt compelled to show Candace that I’d kept, but it felt sort of silly.

  I’ve been debating whether or not to bring it out since, and if so, when.

  I can’t predict her reaction—surprise, surely, but pleasant surprise? Mortified surprise?

  As she sits there looking flustered, vulnerability and openness taking over her face and body as it had last night, the compulsion to share my treasure wins.

  “Look what I still have,” I say with a small grin, keeping my face as neutral as possible while I watch hers for a reaction as I whip the item out of my pocket and hold it up.

  She stares at the object, her mouth falling open slightly.

  I can’t read her reaction beyond the surprise, but her face quickly tightens and her eyes narrow, her brows coming together.

  I’m not sure what I was hoping for, but I know this isn’t the response I wanted at all.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she says, startling me with her venom.

  I have no answer for her.

  We had gotten matching promise rings, a precursor to the engagement ring I had planned to buy her at some point, and the wedding rings we were sure we’d exchange someday.

  I just wanted to show her I still had it, that the item meant something to me—enough to make me keep it after all this time and everything we’ve gone through since the day it was no longer supposed to matter.

  I had thrown away so many things that reminded me of her after accepting she was gone for good, but the silver promise ring, scratched and plain, I kept. I never bothered to examine why.

  “Look, I get it!” she says with a careless shrug. “You’re punishing me. You’re reminding me in all these ways of what we had, what we dreamed of just to torture me for what I did to you. The stewardess outfit, the bathroom decor, and now this! All a part of your plan to mess with my head. And you know what? I fell for it.”

  Her eyes slowly fill with tears, causing a sharp tug in my chest.

  “You don’t actually like me,” she says. “You got me into bed and want to keep things casual, fine. But do you have to be so cruel? Do you have to rub it in even now?”

  “You threw me away, Candace! Like I was nothing!”

  “Well, I’m more than sorry, so congratulations—you got what you wanted: me on my knees, calling you ‘sir,’ submitting to you fully before…”

  Her voice chokes off and I run to her to hold her but she slaps my arm and pushes me away.

  “I’m truly sorry, okay? You have no idea how sorry I am, and it’s not just because things worked out so poorly with Charles. It’s because I missed all these years with you, wasted so much of my life not being with you. God, Jaxson, after all this time, I still…!”

  She brings her hands to her face and I seize the opportunity to wrap her in my arms and hold her firmly against me.

  She doesn’t bother pushing me away this time.

  I soothe her, holding the back of her head with one palm, the other rubbing her back as she cries against my chest.

  “I was only showing you it was important to me,” I say gently. “That you’re still important to me, Candace. What happened between us last night, it meant something. I wasn’t just using you or punishing you; I wanted you desperately, craved being closer to you… as I do right now.”

  I’m sure she felt my cock growing as I spoke.

  I couldn’t stop it—her soft curves pressed against my hard planes reminded me of when we held a similar position, but completely in the nude.

  My cock has a great memory, and it knows that the warm home it recently rediscovered is quite near.

  I lead Candace to my desk, plopping her round butt down on it after clearing a space for her.

  I don’t bother with foreplay this time—I let my hard dick out then pull her panties aside, shoving my stiff cock into her slick, snug hole without further warning.

  She sucks in a breath then keeps on taking hard, deep breaths as I rock into her, her legs wrapped around me as I push my cock in and out of tight, wet pussy.

  I slide my palms under her ass and drill her harder, my dick insatiable when it comes to the grip of her inner walls.

  If she thinks for one second I’ll let her find a way to walk away from us again...

  My balls draw up and I feel a familiar shift inside her—we’re both about to come.

  I pound her faster and my vision dims as I reach climax, her pussy clamping down on my throbbing cock just before it starts shooting my seed inside her.

  Ah, shit.

  A light bulb goes off as I realize what I’ve done. Again.

  I’ve never been so careless.

  I hadn’t even thought about...

  “Jaxson, this reminds me,” Candace begins breathlessly, her drenched pussy still pulsing against my swollen cock. “I’m not on the pill, you know. I probably need to take the morning after or something to make sure… you know. Today.”

  I want to tell her not to, and if I’m reading her face correctly, I think she wants me to say it too.

  But before I can say anything, the door suddenly opens and we’re both scrambling to cover ourselves, although not before Melody gets an eyeful of my bare ass.

  “Oops,” she says as she closes the door quickly behind her.

  I only know it’s Melody because it’s what Candace whispered, her eyes widened in horror as she tried and failed to pull her legs together since I was still standing between them, trapping her where she is.

  Melody saw enough to gather what had just happened, and Candace looks incredibly embarrassed.

  “Oh, no,” she says. “Not in a new place... I just got this job!”

  “What, you think she’ll tell everyone what she saw?”

  “Most likely,” she says with a confident nod.

  “I’ll talk to her. She knows better than to discuss my affairs—business or personal—with anyone, and this falls under that rule. She has been privy to privileged info for a while and knows to keep her mouth shut. But like I said, I’ll talk to her and make sure.”

  “The sooner the better,” Candace says as she finally maneuvers herself away from me, swinging her legs over and hopping off the desk.

  She adjusts her skirt before heading to my bathroom to sort herself out, giving me time to think.

  Melody’s interruption quickly fades from my mind, and questions about what to do about Candace and me remain, including concerns about her womb.

  We need to discuss the implications of our risky encounters.

  Beyond that, I finally come to my senses and realize it’s a terrible idea to have Candace posted up in my office, just a few measly feet away where I could easily stalk over and pull her up from her chair, clear her desk, and fuck her until I blow my load inside her again and again.

  There’s no way I’d get work done like before—her tantalizing presence so nearby would torture me until I finally drop everything and take her in her corner, against the wall, on the goddamned floor.

  I don’t think I could get used to her being here; after all this time without her, I’d want to take her every single day.

  And we’ve already been caught once; I don’t want to embarrass her further.

  Reluctantly, I arrange for her to be out of sight, soothing myself with the thought that I can arrange to see her in the evenings.

  Plus, I know where she lives and I have a key to her residence—which I don’t plan to use without permission now that she has settled in.

  And I most certainly have eyes on her so she can’t disappear again.

 
12

  Jaxson

  3 days later…

  I want to move Candace in with me so badly.

  I want her with me every day when I go to bed and when I wake up in the morning. I want us to start and end our days together.

  I want her to see where I live, witness the physical evidence that I never forgot her.

  I want to make love to her in my own bed.

  It’s not enough spending nights in her suite since she refuses to come home with me.

  She accuses me of trying to control her every now and then, especially when I insist on taking her back with me so she can spend the night in my place for once, and that’s usually enough for me to back off.

  She is wary of me having too much power over her, and I don’t blame her, considering our current dynamic with me in charge of her at work, making her move into a new place, and imposing unusual conditions on her salary advance—requiring her to have dinner with me every night.

  We haven’t even talked about our first night together—the potential consequences of our carelessness.

  We play it safe now, but we weren’t the first few times, and she hasn’t breathed a word of those risky encounters or her intentions should she discover I’d planted a seed.

  I’ve decided not to push her on this for now, but if I had things my way, I’d take my chances, and should a seed sprout, happily accept the result—both her and our child in one beautiful, nonrefundable package.

  At some point yesterday, I managed to catch up to Melody and have a conversation with her about keeping her mouth shut about the other day, and she promised her mouth was sealed as of our conversation, so I don’t have that to worry about over the weekend.

  I find myself occupied by thoughts of the debt Candace keeps hiding, trying to decide when to bring it up again.

  I’m still trying to find the right balance between giving her the space she needs and moving in on her full force.

  I resist using the key I have to her place, accepting access when granted after our nightly dinners.

  I don’t even poke around while she’s asleep—I respect her privacy, in general, but to a point.

  I couldn’t help my curiosity at first—the state of her clothing and the desperate look in her eyes had me concerned about her well-being. I needed to know she wasn’t living as poorly as it seemed, that she wasn’t in dire straits as her manner implied.

  Unfortunately, my fear was confirmed once I checked out her residence, but I even did that from a distance.

  I think I’ve done a damned good job of respecting her wishes, considering everything.

  She asked for a lot of money from me without telling me what it’s for, and I suppose that’s her right, but it’s obviously for something that has her shaken, and I can’t just let it go.

  I care too much about her to turn a blind eye to her distress, and even though she’s told me to buzz off about it in several ways, I’ve kept my eyes and ears open, gathering enough info to dissolve any remaining guilt about digging into her affairs.

  She’s never been street smart and she’s clearly in a vulnerable position—how could I possibly ignore her?

  She isn’t just some damsel in distress; she’s the love of my life.

  It’s my duty to look after her, whether she asks for it or not.

  I’ve chosen to stay over tonight, despite the fact that we couldn’t wait to get up here and fucked in the limo.

  I’ve gone on to my place, leaving her alone for the rest of the night just once after one of our encounters, but tonight I followed her up, and not just because I’d planned on having seconds.

  It’s simply getting harder and harder to be away from her, and even if she tells me she’s only up for watching some boring nature documentary, I’ll watch it with her; I don’t need to have more sexual intimacy. Just sitting next to her, her fingers entwined with mine is pretty great.

  It’s about three a.m. now and she’s dead asleep, and thirst makes me leave her side.

  I head to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

  It’s remarkable how much she’s changed this place—it’s drenched with her now, without much actually being added.

  I get a whiff of her in random places, and she has rearranged a few things to personalize it a bit—though she left the bathroom unchanged.

  I guess she really liked what I did with it.

  She finally let her old place go after making me promise—in writing—that I wouldn’t leave her high and dry, and that she’d have enough notice to sort out other housing should things go sour between us.

  I indulged her, amused, drawing up an even better contract for her, assuring her she has this place for at least a year on my dime unless she chooses another arrangement.

  She has a separate mailbox now, not wanting to receive mail at a building she’s not sure she’ll remain in for longer than a year, and she still goes to pick up leftover deliveries to her old location.

  The pile of mail on one of her tables has only gotten bigger; it seems she never goes through it.

  Something catches my eye as I gaze at the pile from the kitchen, sipping my water.

  I head over to see if the strange formation is what I think it is, scattering the unopened envelopes to reveal a hidden object.

  One of these things is not like the others.

  It seems the object was deliberately concealed but made to look as if casually placed—hidden in plain sight.

  But if she wanted to hide a small box, she had a number of other smarter ways to do so.

  It takes all my willpower not to open the box.

  I’m not usually one to go through people’s stuff, and I especially want to respect Candace’s privacy—I don’t want to give her yet another reason to try to put distance between us.

  But something tells me the box isn’t as innocent as it looks.

  Maybe she hadn’t gotten around to opening it yet—after all, once her workday is done, it’s not long before she needs to be ready for pickup for dinner.

  In any case, here I am, trying to talk myself out of crossing a line.

  She’ll be furious if she finds out I took a peek.

  “Oops!” I whisper as my hand sweeps some of the mail away to make space for my coaster and glass, knocking the box and one of the envelopes to the floor.

  The box falls on its top but stays closed, and I finally give up the charade, pulling it open to inspect its contents.

  I have to say I did not expect to see what was inside, despite the ominous feeling the container had given me, its dark energy drawing me to it in the first place.

  I close the box, the severed finger’s imprint remaining on my eyeballs a few moments more.

  Despite my foggy, late-night brain, it doesn’t take much to put two and two together. This is, no doubt, one of the ways her debt collectors keep her in place.

  I guess those were supposed to be her husband’s body parts as a warning, a reminder of their debt.

  I’ve seen this kind of thing before.

  None of the parts are probably his, taken from dead bodies instead while the goons bank on Candace not noticing any details off.

  I place the box back on the table, not bothering to cover it with envelopes again, leaving the slight disarray.

  My alarm is set for three and a half hours from now, but I find myself unable to go back to sleep.

  “Looks like you have a secret admirer,” I say once Candace makes her way to the kitchen, indicating the box with my eyes.

  She looks horrified at first but composes herself quickly.

  “It’s none of your concern.”

  “Like hell, it isn’t. If it concerns you, it concerns me.”

  “You’re my boss! I don’t owe you any details of my personal life!”

  “You know damned well I’m more than that—always have been, and it’s about time we stop pretending.” I brace myself for Candace’s reaction. “Listen, there’s something I’ve got to tell you—I looked into your little d
ebt problem and I have a few questions.”

  “Jaxson…!”

  I hold up a hand.

  I’ve crunched all the info from my P.I., and I have a pretty clear picture of what’s happening with her.

  A little street smarts goes a long way, and combined with abundant funds, it goes even longer.

  “I appreciate you trying to protect me—it’s adorable, really—but whatever mess you’re in, I’m in, so stop trying to hide from me and let me help you get out of it. Who’s John Barone?”

  She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “A friend of my ex’s.”

  “Was he, now? How long were they friends? Where did they meet?“

  “I’m not sure, actually, but they were friends before Charles and I got together.”

  “Listen, I doubt John was really his friend. From what I gathered, he’s related to these people you’re in debt to; at the very least, he’s part of the whole scam. He set your husband up—in more ways than one.”

  Her eyebrows raise at the related part, but she doesn’t seem totally surprised by John being a traitor overall.

  “To be honest, I noticed John was working against him in some ways—he used to hit on me, and I got the distinct impression he’d have no qualms about... being with me if I gave him the chance. So in that way, at least, I knew he wasn’t loyal to him. But you’re saying he deliberately set him up for our fall?”

  I nod.

  She sighs. “He let me know they were frequenting strip clubs, and while I didn’t like the idea of Charles going to those kinds of places, I didn’t ban him from it or anything, but I made a few things clear—no lap dances and stuff like that. But John told on him—in my view, in hopes of getting him into trouble and inspiring me to exact some sort of sexual payback; he hinted Charles did more than just look at the strippers.”

  “He probably took him to those strip clubs as part of the plan. Some stripper probably offered your ex a tip she overheard from some wealthy businessmen,” I say with air quotes.

  Candace looks somewhat wondrous, her face confirming she at least knew about her ex getting a tip from someone, even if she didn’t know from where.