Page 18 of The Boss

“How was your trip?” I said, keeping my voice light.

She launched into a recap of her weekend, recounting court arguments and networking events, dropping the names of partners and judges as if I should recognize them. I nodded all the same, making the appropriate sounds of interest, but my brain kept trying to drift elsewhere. Kept stirring with a hunger that had no place here, in this car, with my fiancée beside me.

I clenched my jaw and refocused, gripping the wheel a little tighter as I steered us toward the restaurant. It was one of those fancy, modern places where the lighting was dim enough to make everything look expensive, the wine list extensive enough to impress, and the waitstaff trained to be both attentive and invisible. I barely glanced at the name on the awning when I pulled up, too caught up in my own head.

Before we sat at our table, Chantelle removed her fur coat, revealing a black satin dress that hugged her figure, the open back exposing smooth, milky skin. The waiter appeared, reciting the evening’s specials. Chantelle ordered a salad—“No dressing, please”—and a small plate of risotto. I ordered a steak, rare, something solid I could cut into, hoping it would ground me. We got our drinks—red wine for her, whiskey on the rocks for me—and settled into small talk while we waited.

Taking a sip of her Merlot, Chantelle leaned forward, eyes bright with excitement. “Oh, I forgot to tell you—I won that case on Friday. It was a slaughter. The other attorney barely put up a fight.”

I smirked. “So… another one bites the dust?”

She blinked. “What?”

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. “It’s a Queen song.”

“Oh. Right.” She gave me a polite smile and tapped her nails on the stem of the glass. “That was before my time.” No teasing about my age. No amused roll of her eyes. Just indifference before she moved on, already telling me some ridiculous gossip about one of her colleagues.

It shouldn’t have bugged me. It was a throwaway joke. But I could hear Chris’s voice in my head, the way he would’ve latched onto it, topped it with a quip of his own. I took a slow sip of my Jack Daniel’s, letting the burn scrape down my throat.

“Anyway,” Chantelle continued, her tone turning more businesslike, “I’ve got a huge case coming up. High-profile. I’llhave to be in New York for a couple of weeks while the trial’s going on.”

I looked up. “Two weeks?”

She nodded, checking something on her phone before setting it back down beside her plate. “Yeah, it’s a big deal. Could be great for my career if it goes well.”

“That’s… great,” I said, trying to mean it.

She smiled, but there was a distracted quality to it, like she wasn’t really looking at me. “I’ll be swamped, but we’ll still talk every day, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

A beat of silence stretched between us. She scrolled idly on her phone, and I picked up my drink, taking another slow sip. Around the restaurant, couples leaned into each other, laughter and murmured conversation filling the air. Across the room, a woman traced the rim of her wineglass as she laughed at something her date said. Easy. Natural. Intimate. When had Chantelle and I stopped being like that? Had we ever been like that?

I let out a heavy breath and reached for my whiskey again.

“Something wrong?” Chantelle asked.

“No.” I met her gaze and offered a weak curve of my mouth. “Just stressed.”

She nodded like she accepted that, then turned back to her phone. “I won’t be able to deal with all the wedding stuff while I’m away, so I’ll delegate to my mother. She finally accepted that I didn’t want any bridesmaids. God, you wouldn’t believe the drama over floral arrangements.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I told my mom she could handle the details, but she’s been calling me nonstop with options. Apparently, peonies are out this season, and now there’s a crisis.”

I forced a chuckle. “Tragic.”

She rolled her eyes but smirked. “Tell me about it.”

The waiter finally brought our food, giving me an excuse to eat instead of forcing the conversation. But my mind, fucking traitorous, kept yanking me elsewhere. Kept replaying last night in sharp, unrelenting detail. Chris’s voice in my ear, low and rough. The way my body had responded. How easy it had been. How natural.

“I feel like you’re a million miles away tonight.” Chantelle’s voice pulled me back. She was watching me closely now, her pale blue eyes sharp with something that wasn’t quite suspicion but was definitely curiosity.

A smile ghosted across my lips, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “It’s been a long day.”

She hummed, swirling her wineglass between her fingers. “Sure it’s nothing more?”

I clenched my jaw. I needed to get laid. That was the problem. My horniness was making me distracted, insane. So I decided to be honest. “Well, I’m a bit concupiscent, if you really want to know.” I knew she liked those big words, and this one tugged at the corner of her lips.

“It’s only been two days, Isaac,” she said.

“Like I said—eternity.”

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