Page 13 of #Bossholes

Although, the look he gives me as he grabs the folder from his brother isn’t a friendly one. I might already be screwed. Someone really should have warned me about them.Thanks, Mrs. Monroe, for dropping the ball on that one.

The door across from mine opens, and Maverick joins us in the hallway, a huge smile stretching across his face. “I see everyone has gotten acquainted. Brantley. Wyatt. Miss Rhodes.”

He takes a step closer, and my chest tightens. I’m screwed either way.

The three of them stare at me, their eyes hard and posture stiff. Yeah, there’s a reason the secretaries up here don’t last very long, three of them. Three uptight bosses with thousand dollar suits, the inability to smile, and what I’m sure will be a long list of ridiculous demands.

Their eyes bore into me, the heavy weight of their gazes making it hard to breathe, hard to move, and my entire reality crashes down around me. I’m screwed. So freaking screwed. I’m going to have to find a new job. Hell, I got dumped yesterday for basically being an inanimate object. And the worst thing of all? Colin isn’t going to get his surgery. His one chance to hear will be gone because of me.

I’ve screwed up his life as much as my parents screwed up mine.

My hands tremble as they get closer, the space getting smaller, tighter. My stomach hollows out, and I realize I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast this morning. All coherent thoughts escape my brain, leaving only the deafening roar of my heartbeat.

Sweat trickles down my back andshit, my vision is fuzzy. I blink and then blink some more, willing myself to get it together, to breathe, to keep myself from falling flat on my ass.

Maverick crouches, his lips moving, but I can’t hear a thing. He turns to the twins. There’s a set of hands on my shoulders, who they belong to, I have no idea, but they might be the only thing keeping me upright.

I open my mouth to tell them I’m okay, that this will pass, but before I can get out a word, the hall tilts. My vision wavers, flashing in and out. I try to reach for someone. To grab something. To steady myself.

This time, the world doesn’t just tilt, it completely turns over and everything goes black.

EIGHT

Wyatt

Shit.

Her body goes limp, my arms tightening around her as she sags against my chest. What the hell happened? Was it something I said?

I mean, I did ask her to make lunch reservations for me, but I’ve never had that push one of our legal secretaries over the edge.

Sure, we’ve had some of our past employees randomly burst into tears, several tell us we’re monsters, that we can fuck ourselves with sandpaper gloves. I’ve even had one chuck a stapler at my head. But never this.

I glance between Brantley and Maverick, my eyes wide, my blood pressure up, and they look as confused as I feel. At least she’s still—I pause and make sure I feel her chest rising and falling, and yes, we’re good, still breathing. Thank God. She’d be screwed if one of us had to try and perform basic medical care. Brant and I almost flunked biology, and Maverick was too busy studying female anatomy on his own to attend class.

“Did she faint?” Brantley gestures to…Katie? Kelly? Carrie? And back to Maverick. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He closes the distance between us, giving her shoulder a slight shake. “Should we lie her down or?—”

She groans and all of us freeze, well, except Brantley. He takes a step back like she’s going to spew all over him. Oh, God, I hope she doesn’t vomit.

Kristy turns her head toward me, and I cringe, waiting for the puke. But instead of showering me in her breakfast, one of her hands lands on my abdomen. It dips down for just a moment and I don’t dare move, not when my fucking dick is inches away from her fingers. I’m not going to be the guy getting sued because she comes to with a cock in her hand.

Thankfully she changes course, her wandering digits traveling up my abs to my chest, and it takes all the energy I can muster not to moan out loud like some sex- starved miscreant. Nope, this was a mistake. I should have let her fall face-first on the hardwood floor. Why does her hand feel so damn good? And why do I want it under my shirt and not simply under my jacket?

Fucking Maverick. He had a feeling about this one.

Of course, he did. That makes two of us, but mine is located solely in my pants.

There’s no way she’s coming with me to this meeting now. Fuck, there’s no way I can work with her day after day. Not when I know what it feels like with her hands all over me. I won’t be able to get a thing done.

“What happened?” she grumbles, clutching my shirt in her fist.

I’m not sure what I should be doing, but it’s definitely not inhaling her addicting strawberry scent.God, why does she smell so good?

Instead of pulling away or dropping her like I need to, to keep my sanity, I fasten one arm around her and end up awkwardly patting her back with my free hand. “Are you okay?”

The contented sigh slipping past her lips isn’t what I’m expecting, neither is the urge running through me to see what other sounds I can force out of that mouth of hers. Goddamn. She literally fainted, and I can’t seem to pull myself out of the gutter.

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