The Boss Vol. 5: A Hot Billionaire Romance

by Cari Quinn

  “I actually like working for him. He challenges me.”

  “Well, put some of that challenge in your artwork instead.”

  “I already have two pieces started. One’s just about finished.”

  Phil’s dark eyes sharpened. “Oh? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?” She waved her fingers. “See, you got me talking about work. I’m here to visit you, silly girl. How are you? What happened?”

  I tapped the immobilizer under the blanket. “I’m fine. Just a little accident in the cove.”

  “This time of year?” Phil’s eyebrows shot up. “What were you doing in there?”

  “It was a mistake.” I sighed. “I found my grandmother’s diary…” I trailed off.

  No one but Blake knew about the break-ins. Well, the police had been called, but most of the speculation had revolved around kids breaking into empty houses to party. That theory had grown strength when no one had come forward with a gunshot wound. A little blood had been left behind, but not a lot. The cops had just assumed Blake had scared away the kids with what was most likely a minor injury.

  It certainly was a good theory, except a single beer can hadn’t been left behind at any of the break-ins. Nor had there been any other evidence that really indicated kids. The only things that had remained in the intruders’ wake were the various bits of glass broken. It just seemed too random to be vandalism and bored teens. Especially when there was a perfectly good development going in a few miles up the road.

  There were too many nosy busybodies in Lady’s Cove. And I really didn’t want to get into it with Phil.

  I was getting a secretive as Blake, for God’s sake.

  “I was missing my grandmother. It was one of her favorite places,” I said lamely.

  Phil sat next to me on the right side—away from my ankle—and patted my hand. “We all miss Annabelle.”

  I blinked away tears. Between the meds from the doctor, the fruitless search expedition, and my stupid leg, I was done in.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Phil enveloped me in her signature Chanel scent and black silk softness. She wasn’t exactly a hugger, but we had enough history that I let myself lean on her for a moment longer than I normally would. “Better?”

  I nodded.

  “So, tell me about this piece.”

  I shook my head. “Never change, Phil.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t.” She rubbed her hands together. “So, is it a window? Or another sculpture?”

  I yawned. “Copper and glass again. A companion piece.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  “Shattered wings,” I said as I closed my eyes and pictured the piece on my worktable. The copper frame was filled with red glass, slowly fanning out to clear. It wasn’t quite there yet.

  I knew what it needed, but I wasn’t sure I could face putting that much of Blake in my work. I needed his glass. The texture was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Smooth, perfect, and opaque from one side. It would make the piece.

  “It just needs some more time,” I said.

  “How much?”

  I lifted heavy lids. “Soon.”

  Phil sighed. “I can’t badger you when you’re in the hospital.”

  I gave her a half smile. “Hallelujah.”

  “Watch it, young lady.”

  “We’ll see how it all shakes out.”

  Phil squeezed my arm. “When are they letting you go home?”

  The doctor hadn’t given me specifics, which sucked. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Not even any frostbite.”

  “You were very lucky.”

  The memory of the cold was fresh enough that I couldn’t find a joke. “So I keep hearing.”

  “All your fingers and toes? Especially fingers?”

  I waggled my fingers. “All good.” They were still a little stiff, but it seemed like my entire person hurt, not just one thing. Something about dehydration and hypothermia working in tandem since I’d been in the water so long.

  My eyelids were so heavy. I yawned again.

  “All right, I can take a hint.”

  “Sorry, Phil.” I tried to sit up, but she put a hand on my shoulder.

  “You need rest.”

  “They gave me the good stuff, I think.”

  She smoothed a lock of hair away from my face. “Then why don’t you sleep it off?”

  “‘Kay.”

  I didn’t remember falling asleep. When I woke again, my room was empty. I pushed my mangled hair away from my face.

  A shadow moved in the corner. My heart lurched. The adrenaline spike was enough to make the machine next to me blip and beep a few times.

  “It’s just me.” Blake’s voice came out of the dark. He stood and slipped something into his pocket before he crossed the room. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  I’d never seen him so dressed down. There were three different Blakes that I’d been around. Suit, running gear, and naked. Suit and naked were by far my favorite, but I had to admit casual Blake was a bit dangerous for my well-being as well.

  He wore ancient jeans and a bulky green fisherman’s sweater that made his eyes glow tiger gold in the low light. He loomed over me again, brushing his lips over my forehead, then my temple, and finally my cheek.

  When he moved to my mouth, I turned away. I was a hot mess.

  “Don’t turn away from me, Grace.”

  “I’m saving you from my breath,” I said into my pillow.

  He cupped my face, bringing my chin up so our lips met. I was used to carnal kisses from him. Deep, focused—they had more in common with mating than a simple meeting of mouths. But not this time.

  He rested his forehead against mine as he brushed my lips with his.

  The heart monitor gave a staccato beat. Enough that even Blake had to laugh into my mouth. “Is that what it sounds like inside you when I kiss you?”

  “Smug bastard.”

  “Indeed.” He moved his hand from my face, to press in on the pillow beside my head. “Hospitals suck.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “For what I’m paying, they should have you on the same thread count as The Mandarin in Hong Kong.”

  I looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Grace.”

  I stared at the lump where my immobilizer and busted ankle was.

  “Grace,” he growled. “Look at me.”

  I lifted my gaze to his.

  “I don’t care how much I have to pay. I just want you taken care of.”

  “I hate this.”

  “I understand how it feels, but this isn’t about the money.”

  “What would you know about being poor?”

  A muscle jumped in his cheek. “My company is only five years old, Ms. Copeland.”

  I frowned. I’d just assumed he’d come from money. My research hadn’t been that intensive. All I’d been able to focus on was that he’d owned my grandmother’s home—my home. After that we’d created a personal game of one-upmanship and power. Both of us returning to our corners when our clothes went back on.

  He stood, then dragged a chair up to my bed with his foot before dropping into it. “What did the doctors say?”

  “I’ll probably be off my ankle for a few days. I can work remotely.”

  “I’m not worried about that.”

  “I am.” I tried to cross my arms before I remembered I was tethered. I sighed. “When you’re left to your own devices, I have too many fires to put out afterward.”

  “I did just fine without you for five years.”

  “Obviously not since no temp agency or hiring agency will work with you.”

  He kicked out his leg and crossed his arms over his chest. “No one will ever be you, Ms. Copeland.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Did you talk to Donovan about the York house? Has the security glass been installed?”

  His eyes chilled. “Yes. I’m not happy with the changes you made.”

  “You’re just pissed that you didn’t
think of it sooner.” At his silence, I inched up on the stupid bed. “Or, you did.”

  “It’s not cost-effective.”

  “Screw that. I saw your clock in the showroom. That glass was made for both art and security.”

  From the moment I’d walked into Carson Covenant, I’d wanted the unusual glass on my worktable. I’d longed to work with it. So much so that I was even designing pieces with it in mind. I wasn’t ready to tell him that, but it didn’t make it any less true.

  At his mutinous look, I tried a different tactic. I held out my hand.

  “Dirty pool,” he muttered, but he reached for me.

  The fact that I could see him stretched over a billiard table, his intelligent eyes calculating angles and the quickest way to clear the table, was something I had to stuff down for another time.

  It must’ve been the outfit.

  I rarely thought of Blake as anything other than a corporate shark. Pool shark shouldn’t have been nearly as hot, and yet…

  His eyes heated as my nipples pushed against the hospital gown and robe I was wearing.

  He leaned into me, and all the while, his thumb brushed over my pulse. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I’d like to remind you that I’m not a good man. The urge to check over every inch of you to make sure I’m satisfied with your care is raging against a very thin veneer of civility.”

  What the hell was I supposed to say to that?

  There’d always been an undercurrent of dominance to our physical relationship. Blake had started it with the way he’d touched me that very first night in the vestibule. Since then we’d matched each other in intensity. But this was different.

  For the first time, he seemed to need me to be more than just a willing woman wrapping around him. I’d said the words without expecting them in return. Good thing, because they’d never come.

  For a while I’d wondered if I’d ruined everything by telling him that I loved him.

  But here and now, the look in his eyes was more than sex and possession. It was there, of course—I wasn’t sure it would ever be completely gone. Madness seemed to follow us into the dark. I loved it. I craved it as much as I craved the man.

  I’d never felt more alive than when I was in Blake’s arms. Or pinned underneath him.

  And this whole line of thought wasn’t helping me.

  Maybe I needed that bit of uncivilized Blake to feel alive, too. Being alone in that cave and facing a life devoid of Blake had been even more terrifying than a lack of answers.

  I pulled him even closer. His mouth came down on mine in relentless possession instead of the sweetness of earlier.

  A throat clearing—loudly—broke us apart.

  Blake sat back in his chair and swiped his bottom lip with his thumb.

  The nurse bustled in with her cart. She went right for my IV and swapped out a bag. “Visiting hours are over, Mr. Carson. I also need to get Ms. Copeland up and moving for a few minutes, then down for the night.” She rattled a little plastic cup in front of me.

  “What’s that?”

  “Just Ibuprofen,” she said crisply.

  I tossed them in my mouth and accepted the small cup of water.

  “You can come back tomorrow, Mr. Carson.”

  Blake stood up. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

  “Tomorrow,” the nurse said again.

  He slid his fingers through the tangle of my hair. “Forty minutes, and not a minute more.” Then he strode out.

  “I’ll have to have him forcibly removed.”

  I laughed as the nurse flipped back my blankets.

  “And why is that funny?” she asked.

  Oh, if she only knew. “Good luck with that one.”

  She unstrapped my leg from the immobilizer. “Do you need to use the restroom?”

  Now that Blake was no longer in the room, I could focus on other things. As I swung my feet to the floor, it was actually sort of an imperative. “Yes, please.”

  She pushed a wheelchair over to the bed. “At least you have manners, unlike your young man.”

  I pressed my lips together to stop the grin. “My grandmother wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  By the time I’d gotten up and taken care of business, and finally gotten back into my bed, it was a good while later. My drugs had long since worn off and the Ibuprofen was as effective as an aspirin for a hangover.

  “Do you want to try just a splint to sleep?”

  “If that means I can sleep on my side, then I’m all about it.”

  The nurse smiled. “I think we can make that happen.”

  By the time we got me situated, I was sore enough to beg for another of those lovely shots the doctor had given me.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She gave me another pillow to prop me on my right side with my left elevated. Suddenly she stiffened. “Mr. Carson—”

  I touched her hand. “He’ll only start yelling, then there will be supervisors and doctors called. It’s not worth the hassle, is it?”

  I was facing away from the door, so I couldn’t see his face, but I could imagine he had his Arctic Bitch Face on.

  She sighed. “You need to let her rest.”

  “I’ll see that she rests.”

  The nurse shook her head. “I hope he’s worth it,” she muttered as she pushed her cart across the room.

  Blake dragged a reclining chair from the corner and situated it on the right side of my bed. He waited for the nurse to leave, then lined it up to run parallel to my bed. He sat down. “Sleep, Grace.”

  I was tired and sore enough that I didn’t care if it made me look weak. I pulled his arm down onto the bed and hugged it close to my body and closed my eyes.

  Sometime in the night I caught him reading something.

  Annabelle’s diary?

  I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to be sure.

  Chapter Six

  When I woke, Blake was gone, and Jack was sitting on the couch along the wall. He was twirling a pen between his fingers, the newspaper on his knee.

  “Since when do you do the crossword puzzle?”

  Jack grinned at me. “Mornin’, Gracie.” He dropped both on the end table. Curious, I peered down and all the answers were filled in save for one. “They still make you turn off your phone at the hospital. Who knew?” He shrugged. “I got bored.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Hardly. Now if it was the Sunday New York Times, I’d be gloating. Vi can do that one. In pen.”

  “Kickass chick.”

  “Damn right.” Jack stood up, then grabbed a small duffel bag off the couch. “How ya doin’?”

  “I’ll survive.” I nodded to the bag. “If there’s a toothbrush in there, I’ll kiss you.”

  “After you brush?”

  I laughed. “Yes.”

  “Deal.” He set the bag next to me. “Blake packed it and brought it into the office. He had a teleconference he couldn’t reschedule.”

  “Dammit. Yeah, it was a pretty big investor.”

  Jack nodded. “He’s got Donovan locked in. He was on the fence until you added in the vanity aspect. Lindsay York was really impressed with your design.”

  I blushed. “It was simple. If I can convince Blake to try some other things, I think we might be able to extend the security glass into something even more marketable. Tinted glass has a limited application. This is the best of both worlds.”

  Jack dipped his hand into his pocket, jangling his keys. “You’re good for him.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “No, it’s true. I don’t know how many people have gone into that showroom, and inquired about his clock. Blake won’t budge on it. Thinks the cost-effective and practical is the way to go.”

  “We can do both. It doesn’t have to be the main branch of the business.”

  “I agree. When I first met him, Blake was much more creative. He’d spend as many hours in the workshop as he did with his spreadsheets.”


  “What changed?”

  Jack dropped into the visitor chair near my hospital bed. “Finding investors for the security side was easier. Pretty soon we had fifty employees and a distribution deal. It was harder to take chances when we had so many people counting on us.”

  As usual, I learned more about Blake from Jack or Violet. But I was glad my instincts were right in one regard. Blake loved the creation aspect of glass. He just buried it, like he did with so many other things.

  Jack laced his fingers over his flat belly. “The word is getting out now. The orders have doubled since last quarter.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Too bad Blake doesn’t know how to enjoy the success. It’s just another goalpost for him. He’s looking to the next three instead of enjoying the one in front of him.”

  “You don’t seem like the celebration sort, Jack.”

  “Oh, I do.” Jack waggled his eyebrows. “I just do it off the clock.”

  “Pig.”

  And because I expected it, and we’d had this conversation a million times, he grinned. “Oink.”

  “Good morning.” A chipper woman with a food tray came in. “Hope you’re hungry.”

  I was, actually.

  She slid the tray onto my rolling table and pulled off the lid. Jell-O cup, a box of orange juice, box of milk, and plain scrambled eggs stared back at me. “Have a good day.”

  Jack glanced down at the tray and reached for my Jell-O.

  “I slapped his hand.”

  “Aww, come on.”

  “Get your own orange Jell-O, slick.”

  “There’s an idea.” Jack stood and hightailed it out the door.

  When he came back with two cups, I rolled my eyes. “Con artist.”

  “I didn’t con her. Much.”

  We ripped off the tops and clicked plastic spoons.

  “Bon appetit,” I said. I was scraping the bottom of the cup and laughing at Jack when Blake rushed through the door.

  Jack twisted his head around. “Hey, how’d it go?”

  “A satisfactory conclusion to the meeting.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Do I break out the champagne? Or just beer?”

  Blake looked from me to Jack, his face curiously blank. “Beer.” Blake draped his coat over his arm. “Craft beer,” he corrected.