Page 47 of My Bossy Billionaire Attorney

“Okay,” Michael shrugs. “It shouldn’t have happened. I am your attorney, and you are my client and my employee. Mixing business and pleasure is never the right choice. But you needed someone last night, and I decided to be that person, that is all.”

“We can easily put it behind us,” he assures me.

His reasoning makes so much sense that it infuriates me.

I snap my fingers.

That is what infuriates me. How he’s able to logically explain what happened last night while stripping it of every emotion, notthat there was an acknowledgment of mutual attraction between us.

“You…” I grit my teeth as he turns to me, swallowing the rest of my complaint. “You’re right. You were useful last night, but it was a moment of weakness on my part. It won’t happen again. I don’t suppose I’m allowed to come to the office in the meantime?”

“You are not a lawyer,” he says. “You can come in and do your job.”

I shake my head, sighing. “Sure. I mean, you could have just said okay, but you went through that whole routine.” I let him know.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t want breakfast. I want to go home and get changed before I head to the office. I’m assuming you’ll do the same,” I add, picking up my bag.

Michael doesn’t say anything as I walk to the door, and for some reason, it rubs me the wrong way. I remind myself that he doesn’t owe me anything, much less a goodbye.

“Savannah.”

I stop—one foot out the door when he calls my name. I don’t turn until I hear his footsteps close by. Then I feel his jacket drape over my shoulders.

“There,” he says. “Your camisole…I don’t trust it, it might not make it. Also, make sure to have something to eat when you get home. You haven’t had anything since yesterday morning,” he gently adds.

My mind is left in a sea of confusion as I walk out the door. What exactly does Michael Stone want from me? One minute, he’s caring, and the next he acts like we are strangers. One day, he is ordering me to get out of his office, and the next, he is draping his jacket that smells just like him, over my shoulders.

The man needs to take a course on the implications of mixed signals. In the meantime, I have to get my shit together. Someone out there has it out for me, and if I don’t figure out who, it will be my head on the chopping block.

***

“Hey,” Clarissa waves her hand in front of my face, bringing me to attention. “Are you okay?”

It is the twentieth time she’s asked since I came into the office, and I know that she means well, but her questions only remind me that there is a noose hanging around my neck and she is distracting me from my work.

But I cannot tell her that because I need as many people on my side as possible, seeing as whispers have begun following me everywhere I go.

I nod. “Yeah, I am. Just trying to get some work done. Why?”

“Well, strange thing, but Mr. Stone has asked to see you.”

My eyebrows furrow.

When we just saw each other a couple of hours ago? What could he possibly want? Has he found something?

“I don’t know why, but I think it has something to do with…you know. With that. He must have heard about it. I hope you don’t get fired,” she says, sounding nervous.

“I know you didn’t do it, but he’s the founding partner, and he might care about his company more than an employee.”

I sigh.

“I know you’re trying to make me feel better, Clarissa, but it’s not working.”

“Oh. Sorry,” she shakes her head. “Let me know how it goes, okay?”

I nod, getting up.

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