Falling for His Boss

by Rosie Praks

  After exhausting all her tears, Whitney calmed down. She sat quietly, looking up at the full moon in the brightly lit sky. She whispered quietly into the cold winter breeze, “I will never fall in love again. I am not in love with Darcy. I won’t let him hurt my heart. I will live. I’m not going to die from seeing his face. I’ll live a happy life.”

  I’ll live. Yes, I’ll live. She repeated the mantra to herself.

  Whitney managed to compose herself at last. And just when she was about to head back to the wedding reception, she felt someone sitting beside her. She turned and saw him.

  Darcy.

  And right then, one thought drummed in her soul.

  I feel like dying.

  Darcy was fisting his fingers behind Isabella’s head, cradling her so he could taste her sweet mouth once more. He needed to forget about his boss, needed to get rid of that image of his boss’ naked body seductively luring him in. More importantly, though, he needed little Johnny to wake up and play some games.

  “Oh, Darcy,” Isabella cooed into his ear as he bit her shoulder, waiting for his loins to heat up. “I didn’t know you missed me this much.”

  Isabella, the girl he’d had a one-night stand with a few weeks back and the same girl he’d met in the plane when arriving to Queenstown, had finally come to find him. And at the right time, too. Everything was perfect. The night was beautiful; he was in the right mood. But why were his damn loins not cooperating? And the kiss no longer tasted sweet. He craved another mouth. Other lips. Another body.

  “Let’s find a room.” She climbed onto him, teeth biting his neck.

  “Let’s not.” He placed her on the ground.

  She gazed at him with seductive eyes, eyes he once lusted for. She was perfect in fact. Blond hair, blue eyes, another ideal woman. But his bloody body no longer craved her.

  “So you want to do it here?” she asked, eyes drilling into him. “But it’s so cold. But if you want to, let’s do a quickie.”

  “No.” Darcy pushed her back. “I… I don’t think I can do it with you anymore.”

  “But, Darcy, we planned this. Didn’t I tell you I’d look for you after my shift. You’re not happy to see me? I thought you were a minute ago when you kissed me like you were starving for vodka.”

  “I’m sorry, but I really can’t do it with you,” he admitted at last.

  “What are you saying? That you don’t need me anymore?”

  “I’m saying I have feelings for someone.”

  “With me?” Her eyes brightened at his confession.

  “No. With my boss,” he muttered without thinking.

  “You asshole,” she lashed at him, slapping him on the face. “If you have feelings for another girl, why did you even suggest I see you? I thought you liked me. You Casanova. I hate you.”

  With another slap and a cold sting later, she was gone.

  Yep. He deserved that. He really did.

  But God, he was a mess. His whole emotional status was a mess. Maybe he should check himself into a psychiatric ward to cure this weird condition of his.

  He really did have feelings for his boss. That much had proven true when the kiss with Isabella was akin to him kissing a dog. Not that her kiss was like a dog’s, but similar.

  What the hell? He should just boil it down to one reason only. He no longer desired kissing any other woman except Whitney, his boss.

  Oh, he was in deep shit now. She already had Johnathan, her bastard of an ex-boyfriend.

  But wait. Johnathan was already one brownie point down. If he were to compete against that bastard ex-boyfriend for Whitney’s devotion, he was sure she would look his way. And that had nothing to do with their boss-subordinate relationship at work. He didn’t mind dating his boss.

  The idea swelled in his chest. He had to find Whitney and fast. Because the competition to get her was a race worth running.

  Darcy zoomed around the ballroom, looking for Whitney, but she was nowhere to be found. A few times, he saw Clarice and asked where her friend was, but all she said was she didn’t know.

  Darcy was scared his opportunity might have already slipped past him. He ran outside again, into the blasted cold air. It was freezing as shit. Surely, Whitney wouldn’t be sitting outside in the cold for such a long period of time. He made his way into the manmade greenhouse dubbed “the winter garden,” where the temperate was moderately warmer than outside. Still, she was nowhere to be found. As his boots were about to crunch out of the glass house, he saw her.

  Darcy inched closer, sitting next to his woman quietly. She turned toward him slowly, as if only realizing someone was sitting beside her.

  “Hi, Whitney.” He started, feeling a little nervous.

  “Hello, Darcy.”

  Golly, her voice was so sweet. Over six months of working together, and he’d only realized his own feelings. Why did it take him this long? Well, he wasn’t going to waste another minute.

  “Cold tonight, isn’t it? What are you doing out here? Let’s get back inside.”

  “Just a little bit longer,” she said, her voice sounding strained.

  Was something wrong?

  “Whitney…”

  “How’s everything, Darcy?” she asked, face turning around to meet his. Once again, he was slammed with the recognition of need in his loins.

  But why did her face look like she’d been crying. Her eyes were all red and swollen.

  “Everything?” He frowned at her odd question. “Everything is great. But why are your eyes red? Is something wrong? Oh God, you were crying, weren’t you?”

  Darcy launched forward, hugging her into a tight embrace. Had he thought wrong? Maybe Johnathan and her didn’t really get back together. This was his chance.

  “Whitney, tell me? Why are you crying?” He coddled her.

  “It’s because I’m happy.”

  “You’re crying because you’re happy. You are weird, Whitney.” He smoothed her hair, bringing her face to nestle against his chest.

  “Yes, I am weird,” she said, her voice small. “Are you happy, Darcy? Did you have fun these last few days. Our charade, I mean?”

  Again, another odd question. But he did have fun. More than fun. He now recognized this new feeling of his, and he wanted to confess now.

  Darcy cradled her cheek in his palm. He drew her into him, his eyes locking with her emerald-green ones.

  “Don’t cry when you’re happy. You should laugh.” He consoled her.

  “I’m weird, Darcy. I’m a tyrant, a bossy boot, a militant boss, a witch through and through. Didn’t you feel my wrath while working with me?”

  Tyrant. Bossy. A militant boss. Definitely a witch. Those were words he’d used to describe the woman in his arms in the past. But these last few days, she was more than that. She was sweet, a gentle kitten. She might have fangs, pretending to be a tough woman on the exterior, but inside, she was soft and mushy. She brought out his protective instincts. To Darcy, she was everything he could described as his woman.

  “Whitney, you’re not—”

  Whitney abruptly grabbed his tie and sealed her lips against his, cutting off his speech. The pace was fast and furious. She kissed him so damn hard, as if she were searching for something he couldn’t decipher.

  But Darcy was only too happy to oblige. He loved that heat, that warmth, and not to mention the sensation in his loins. Oh God, he wanted Whitney, so bad he was about to combust.

  “I’m in love, Darcy,” she whispered near his ear, suddenly splashing him in cold water with that declaration, in turn, dousing his manhood. Then she started giving him little pecks on his cheek, temples, and at the corners of his lips, as if that declaration meant nothing to him. “I think I’ve loved him for a while now, but I never knew it until these past few days. Are you happy for me?”

  Darcy could only stare at her, lost in that question. His eyes were all misty, and he gazed at her in confusion.

  Happy? How was he supposed to be happy for her when she was
baring her heart to another man that wasn’t him, while using him as his replacement. She really was a witch, poisoning him with her sweet charm.

  But he couldn’t fight that bewitching charm of hers. He only murmured gently, telling her that no, he wasn’t happy for her, then folding her into his arms again, kissing her back with as much force as she gave him. His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging her chin just enough so his lips could mold perfectly against hers.

  If only Darcy could understand Whitney’s language, then he’d know how much she also suffered. She was drowning in the love she had for him. But she couldn’t do anything except give him this, her kiss, as a parting gift.

  Please let me kiss you again before this night is over, Whitney begged in her mind, craving more of what Darcy gave her. And when she knew she was about to expire, she pulled back.

  Darcy watched again in confusion. Lust was already clouding his judgment, but he couldn’t do anything except sit still like a mannequin.

  “Thanks for the kiss. I’ll see you at work, then,” Whitney said calmly, then stood.

  Thanks for the kiss? I’ll see you at work? What the hell was all that about? he asked himself.

  “Whitney?’ He held her back, face taut and red. “That kiss? What does it mean?”

  Whitney smiled sadly at him.

  “I’m in love, Darcy,” she said, droplets of tears washing down her face. “So let’s forget about everything that happened here. Next week, when we get back to work, let’s pretend all of this never happened. Good-bye, Darcy.”

  Whitney smiled at him gently one last time and then turned on her heel and left. Darcy just watched her, picking up her skirt and walking into the wedding reception, a sad, solemn expression on his face.

  A good-bye kiss. That was a good-bye kiss.

  Darcy bit his lips, willing himself not to give in to his irrational emotions. He shouldn’t say anything. What else could he say? She was practically telling him to get the hell out of her life because she was back with her ex-boyfriend, and whatever had happened during the time they pretended to be husband and wife just to scare off her ex was just a simple charade. And now it was over. Completely over. When they got back to work, he’d have to pretend he’d never slept with her. Have to pretend he’d never kissed her, hugged her, consoled her, or laughed with her as all loving couples do. He’d have to pretend none of those things they did together ever happened.

  Darcy wanted so much to crawl underneath his blanket and cry. He beat his fist on his chest, wanting to pacify his tormented heart, feeling the stabbing pain that robbed him of his breath. The thought of his boss and her boyfriend together sent more pain through his being. He tried hard to suppress the tears from flowing down his cheeks, but he couldn’t.

  Darcy looked at the full moon, silent tears slowly making their way down his cheeks. He laughed drily. Oh God! He’d fallen hopelessly in love with his boss. And it hurt. So damn bad.

  Chapter 25

  You should be happy, right? Whitney asked herself as she made her way to the wedding reception. So why did these tears keep falling? She should be pleased she’d stopped these stupid crazy feelings from developing any further. In fact, she’d just saved herself from another heartbreak. But why did it feel like half her body had become paralyzed when she said her final good-bye to Darcy.

  She knew why. It was because she loved him, and right now, her heart was breaking.

  It was ridiculous. He’d worked under her for over six months, and she’d never felt inclined to act upon her feelings. But since they’d arrived here, everything changed. It was as if there were magic in the air. And she knew the change would remain because the prospect of seeing Darcy again, working in the same vicinity, answering her calls, bringing her lunch, would kill her. This magic they’d shared would slowly dissipate, like the thin ice crystals that would melt into water.

  The thought made her heart cry out even more. She swept those tears aside and forced a smile, trying her best to calm this raging pain that clawed at her heart.

  Breathing softly in the ice-cold weather, Whitney vowed to herself to forget what had transpired here. No matter what happened to her, she was determined to get her life back on track, and that included her heart and emotions.

  Whitney was about ten steps from entering the wedding reception when someone pulled at her arm. She was so startled she lost her footing and clumsily fell into those arms, but not before being smothered in burning kisses.

  Whitney thrashed about, hitting her unknown assailant with fists, trying to escape those throbbing kisses, but she knew deep in her heart she was starting to lose the will to fight. She was sucked into a passionate and turbulent vortex, so strong it almost spun her out of control. As those strong fingers cradled her head, angling her mouth for better access, she sank deeper into the pit of desire. Her heart pounded, chest burned, and cheeks flushed. She was one inferno ready to explode.

  Her mind kicked back into gear when she realized she was taken for a wild ride and this kissing, this intoxicating feeling inside her, would never die. She managed with all her strength to shove her assailant back. He was momentarily swallowed in the dark night.

  She wiped at her lips, exhausted and panting for air. That kiss had affected her on so many levels.

  How could she feel like this for a total stranger? Deep down, though, she knew who her assailant was. He was the very person she was fruitlessly trying to forget.

  It was dark, so she couldn’t make out his face, but when he did emerge again, her prediction was true.

  Darcy.

  Yes, Darcy. He looked determined and deviously handsome, so feral and alpha like. The only time he acted like this was when they’d slept together.

  Whitney tried composing herself to show Darcy she wasn’t affected by that kiss, but he was already dragging her arm and ruggedly sealing their lips together again.

  “Darcy.” She clamored between kisses, heart pounding loudly. “What are you doing?”

  “Kissing you,” he growled beside her ear, tongue slipping out to lick her earlobe, then tracking back to the side of her lips and finally claiming her mouth for the third time that night.

  “Why?” she managed before being cut off by Darcy’s quick explanation.

  “Because I want to.”

  “Stop, Darcy, stop!” Whitney thrashed at his chest just after he got another taste of her lips. She had to push him away, knowing she’d be totally consumed by this feeling if she didn’t put a stop to his silly act. “If it’s a good-bye kiss, then don’t bother,” she said calmly, mustering all her courage to act like the cool and professional boss.

  A fire glinted in Darcy’s eyes. He was on a mission. And he wasn’t letting her go until he got what he wanted.

  Darcy locked her into place with his steel arms and fired straight into those green eyes. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel anything during that kiss. Because I bloody hell felt something. You tell me, Whitney. Tell me you felt something, too.”

  “What does it matter if I feel something or not? It’s not going to change our relationship status.”

  “Yes, it does. It changes everything.”

  “What will change?” Whitney lashed out at him, emotion now flaring. She tried to control herself, but it was so damn hard. Why did she have to fall in love with her subordinate? She breathed through her nose and collected herself before calmly saying, “We’re going to go back to being boss and PA. I’ll be your militant boss, and you’ll be my submissive PA. Nothing will change. So let’s stop this act. I’m going back to the wedding reception now. You should do—”

  And Whitney was cut off by those lips again.

  “Let me go,” she rasped out as soon as she managed to pull free. “Stop kissing me. Stop playing with my heart. I can’t take it.”

  Darcy clasped her cheeks and brought her face within inches of his and whispered, eyes locking with Whitney’s green ones. “You feel it, too, right? When I kissed you. When we were together. You feel the
magic, too?”

  “I didn’t feel anything.” Whitney lied, turning away.

  “Look at me, Whitney.” He tilted her chin and locked eyes with hers. “You can lie to me, but you can’t fool yourself. I know you feel something for me, too. What we’ve experienced these past few days was magic. And I don’t want us to lose that magic when we get back to work.”

  “Magic is just an illusion. When we open our eyes, we wake up, face reality. The magic will disappear.”

  “Not if we keep creating this magic,” Darcy said, begging her with his eyes to understand his meaning. “Whitney, I want to create more magic with you. I love you. I’ve loved you for some time now, but I was too stupid to acknowledge this feeling.”

  Whitney was stunned by Darcy’s confession. Did he just say he loved her?

  No, it was her imagination. Darcy had many girls clamoring around him. He was a playboy in the office. He had a reputation. Once he was done with one girl, he would be off to his next conquest. She didn’t want to fall into Darcy’s statistics. Most importantly, she wasn’t his plaything.

  “I can’t go through it again, Darcy.” She broke eye contact. “I can’t get my heart broken again. It hurts too much.”

  Damn those godforsaken tears. Why wouldn’t they stop flowing? God, what a stupid fool she was.

  “That was in the past, Whitney. That was what your stupid ex did to you.” He swung her around to face him, nudging her chin to remind her he was here, in the present. “I’m not like that. I would never break your heart. I’m here in front of you. I won’t ever do that to you.”

  Whitney looked up into Darcy’s hazel eyes, and at that moment, she was taken back to their time together. The words he spoke resonated in her.

  “I used to ask for a lot in a woman, Whitney.” He brushed the wisp of her black hair behind her ear and gazed at her, his woman, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. “I have all these character traits my woman must possess before I even consider them. Blond hair, blue eyes, slim body, a pair of voluptuous breasts, all those typical outside appearance traits. But being in a relationship isn’t about looks or physical appearance. That’s where I got it wrong from the start. It’s about compatibility and love. Someone who can bring out the best in you, someone who makes you happy when you’re sad, someone who makes you feel warm even on a cold, snowy night.