Page 41 of The Boss

I didn’t mean to make it sexual when I touched him, I really didn’t. It was just a joke between two buddies hanging out, nothing weird about that. Except, now there was something very weird about it. Something dangerous. Because every shift of his body, every idle flex of muscle, every absentminded stroke of his fingers against his stomach drew my gaze like a goddamn magnet. He wasn’t even trying, yet he had me wound tight, my skin buzzing from his presence like a live wire. The heat of his body seeped into me, making it impossible not to imagine what it would feel like pressed against mine. My eyes darted to his crotch, the thin fabric of his shorts molded to his bulge, leaving little to the imagination.

I needed to get a grip.

Before my thoughts could spiral further into dangerous territory—and before my body betrayed me—I nudged his feet aside and sprang up from the couch. “You’ve got some cool stuff in here,” I said, forcing my voice to stay light as I wandered toward the shelves. “Are you a collector, or do you have an interior designer with an obsession for clutter?”

I could feel Zac’s gaze on my back as I trailed my fingers over the books and small trinkets, taking in the collection of items that made up his world. Anything to keep my mind off the temptation lounging behind me, looking like sin straight out of my dirtiest fantasies. But as my gaze traveled along these mementos, my curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to know more, to learn about his interests and hobbies for real.

Zac’s voice came from behind me. “Every piece here has a story. I don’t do meaningless décor.”

My gaze drifted over the neatly stacked spines of well-worn books. A mix of business, philosophy, and classic literature.The Art of Warsat next to a biography of Steve Jobs, which in turn was stacked besideDuneand some old, leather-bound novel whose title had faded with time. I grabbed a small bronze figurine of a dragon and held it up. “All right, so what’s this one’s story?”

He yawned. “Gift from a business partner in Hong Kong. It’s supposed to bring good fortune and protection. Not sure if it works, but I haven’t gone bankrupt yet, so who knows?”

I snorted and kept browsing. There were sculptures, framed certificates, and a collection of old vinyl records ranging from Queen and Pink Floyd to U2 and Bon Jovi. But what really caught my attention sat atop a chest of drawers near the corner of the room—two Japanese swords displayed on top of each other on a black lacquered stand. I noticed them last night when I first entered the room, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind then to pay them closer attention. Now, I stepped nearer, eyeing the swords in admiration. “Are these—?”

“Daisho,” Zac supplied, pushing off the couch to join me. “A matched set of original samurai swords from the late Edo period. Katana and wakizashi. I’m told they’re worth a fortune.”

My fingertips traced the smooth curve of the hilts, itching to unsheathe the blade. “That’s insane. How’d you end up with these?”

Zac leaned against the dresser, arms crossed. “A Fujitsu executive gave them to me years ago in Japan, back when I was still proving myself in the industry. He was one of the first major investors to take me seriously. Said he saw something in me—potential, drive. Told me that in another life, I would’ve made a damn good warrior. Then he gifted me these as a sign of respect. I only later learned how great of an honor that was.”

I glanced at him, impressed. “That’s pretty damn incredible.”

Zac grinned, taking the katana from its stand and weighing it in his hand, still sheathed in its gilded scabbard. “Afterward, I took sword-fighting classes to learn how to wield it. I’d show you some moves, but it’s too dangerous to do it here. This thing could slice through bone.”

“Okay, that’s probably the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He took a fighting stance—legs spread, knees slightly bent, the sword raised—and with a perfectly straight face, he said, “There can be only one.”

I blinked. “…Huh?”

“It’s fromHighlander.” His grin faltered. “Tell me you’ve seenHighlander.”

I shrugged. “Uh, I know of it?”

Zac looked shocked. “Of it?You mean to tell me you’ve never actually watched it?” His face twisted in exaggerated horror, then he put the sword back in its place and strode toward the TV stand. “No. Absolutely not. This must be rectified immediately.”

I laughed as he pulled out a Blu-ray case and held it up like it was a sacred artifact. “Dude, is this really amust-watchsituation?”

“You have some other plans?” he asked. When I just shrugged, he smiled, already queuing up the movie. “Sit. We’re fixing this right now.”

I shook my head but did as told, sinking into the plush couch and watching him. Zac strode over to the windows and drew the curtains, plunging the apartment into a warm twilight. The faint glow of the TV flickered across his face as he dropped onto the couch beside me, his shoulder brushing mine, casual yet electric. Then the screen came alive, with Sean Connery narrating the prologue, and soon the opening notes of Queen’s score rumbled through the room.

“Okay, now I get why you love it,” I said, asPrinces of the Universeswelled through the speakers.

“Shut up and watch the movie,” Zac said, smiling, already lost in the film.

Before long, I was just as absorbed, the movie pulling me in so completely that I forgot everything else—where I was, who I was with. That’s why I didn’t notice when his arm curled around me, or when my head fell to his shoulder. Neither of us acknowledged it, but by the timeWho Wants to Live Foreverstarted playing, we were practically snuggling, him sprawled over the couch, me draped over him. He’d once mentioned this was his favorite Queen song, back when we were little more than acquaintances. Now, watching him, it made even more sense. The sweeping tragedy of it, the way it showed how immortality wasn’t a gift but a curse.

I turned my head slightly, looking at him in the dim glow of the screen. “You’re a closeted romantic, you know that?”

Zac huffed, but his lips twitched. “Shut up.”

“You totally are. You act all tough, but deep down, you’re just a softie who wants true love to conquer all.”

With a low, dramatic growl, Zac crushed me against him, his arms locking me in like he could squeeze the teasing right outof me. I laughed, breathless. “Do I need to remind you that I’m your boss?” he said.

I could’ve pulled away. I didn’t. The heat of his thigh against my groin sent a wave of arousal through me, and when my hand drifted down—curious, impulsive—I found him hard too. So much for the boss/employee boundaries.

---