Page 35 of The Billionaire's Masquerade Ball

To her surprise, his eyes lit up and he smiled. “You’re hired.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re hired. Now get in the car. I’ve wasted enough time today as it is.”

Still carrying her box, Xander ducked into the back of the town car. His assistant stared with his wide blue eyes and floppy shock of blond hair, looking more like a college intern than an executive assistant. Cynder pushed past him to climb in beside Xander.

“What?” she said as she passed him.

He smiled, then said, “I’m Wyatt. Nice negotiations,” before climbing into the front of the town car.

“We’ll talk later,” she said, making a zipping motion over her lips. He nodded.

It was only when the car pulled away from the curb and an awkward silence descended over the car that Cynder began to shake. Waves of pain throbbed and clawed up her arm, radiating out from her thumb. It was probably broken. And emotionally, Cynder was fighting off a whole lot of feelings. She was terrified and worried and also still mildly thrilled by what she had just done. Underneath, though, she still mourned the loss of the last legacy of her father. Nothing to be done about it now.

“What’s wrong?” Xander’s voice startled her.

“What?”

“You’re shaking. What’s the matter?”

Being this close again to his deep brown eyes was not the best thing if she was trying to control her emotions.

“I hate to ask for anything else …”

“But?”

Cynder looked down at her lap. “I think I broke my thumb.”

A snort of laughter came from the front seat and Cynder gave a dirty look to the back of Wyatt’s head.

“Let me see.” Xander set her box in the floor and reached a hand to her. Cynder hesitated. “Please?”

This was the third time he had pleaded with her. The first time for a dance. The second was asking her to sit down with him in the balcony. She could not resist him. Hopefully he wouldn’t ever use that soft tone asking for something she really didn’t want to give him.

Now he was her boss. Her feelings needed to be locked up in a vault.

Sighing, she carefully lifted her hand, turning slightly toward him to make it easier. Their knees brushed and she bit her lip. His hands were gentle, one supporting her arm and the other gently encouraging her to uncurl her fist. With a groan, she tried to straighten her thumb. He made a murmuring sound, then called out to the driver.

“Jack, we need to make a stop on the way back to the office. Wyatt, find the closest urgent care.”

“On it,” Wyatt said.

Xander smoothed his fingers over her hand. At first, she had stiffened against his touch, but something about it made the anger in her heart uncurl, the same way he had managed to get her to straighten out her fingers.

“Was it worth it?” he whispered.

Cynder felt like she was drowning in the warmth of his eyes as he smiled. This new job was going to kill her. Totally. Kill her. There wasn’t a vault strong enough to hold back the attraction she felt toward him. It didn’t seem to matter whether he could manage to flirt with two women in the same night. Or if he was her boss.

“Absolutely,” she said. “I’d do it again.”

Xander smiled fully and the sight of his wide, white smile had her insides flipping. “Next time, don’t tuck your thumbs inside your fist.” He gently let go of her hand and turned back to face the front of the car. “They need to be on the outside. It will protect your thumb from breaking.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I want to punch someone,” she murmured.

But she wasn’t thinking of her thumb in that moment. Cynder was wondering how she was going to protect her delicate, very breakable and completely hopeless heart. Cynder cleared her throat, drawing Xander’s attention. “Quick question: workman’s comp?”

He began to laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. Wyatt joined him and Cynder could even see the driver’s cheeks lift.

“I’m going to be so sorry I hired you, aren’t I?” Xander asked.

As Cynder tried to ignore the way her hand still tingled from his touch, rivaling the pain of her broken thumb, she didn’t say the answer that popped into her mind.

Not as sorry as I’m going to be.

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