Page 24 of #Bossholes

What if she’s in trouble? What if she’s doing something illegal?

Obviously, I have to get to the bottom of this, and if she’s up to no good, she’s not going to be admitting shit to me. So, I shove my hands in my pants pocket and rock back on my heels. “I see you. I see my freshly cleaned suit.”

“Nothing else?” Her voice wavers, her hand gripping the handles of her purse so tight her knuckles are turning white.

My brows raise as I study her face. She’s still chewing on that bottom lip, her eyes are darting around the room, andher breaths are coming in short pants. She’s nervous as hell. Definitely doing something she’s not supposed to.

“Obviously, I saw your phone, but not what was on it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She gives me one curt nod, her entire body deflating. “I’ve got to go.”

And that’s it.

She turns around, shoves my freshly pressed suit against my chest, and fucking runs away from me. If she had been on the other side of my couch, I have no doubt she would have hurdled that bitch like a pro athlete. She doesn’t look back. She doesn’t say goodbye. She doesn’t tell me she’ll see me Monday.

Just fucking slams the door.

There’s no way I’m not looking this shit up.

I wait a few seconds, making sure she’s not coming back, and pull my phone from my back pocket.

I type in Cherry Bid but the first few results are completely unhelpful. I doubt she was freaking out about instructions on keeping your cherries fresh in the fridge. But then I scroll halfway down the page, and something catches my eye.

Holy fucking shit. I click that bitch open so quick I might have broken my finger, and now I’m waiting very patiently for the seconds—no, the minutes it takes the website to load. I think I aged seven years.

And there it fucking is.

The damn illustrated cherries.

No wonder she didn’t want me to see this. I have so many questions, none of which are appropriate for a boss-employee relationship. I really want to know if she’s really a virgin and if she is, how is that possible? She’s a knockout. Her silky waves beg to be wrapped around my fist, preferably while she’s bent over my desk, looking at me with those crystalline blue eyes of hers. And those curves? Please. I spend at least two hours a daytrying not to undress her in my mind. It’s nearly impossible. She was made for my hands, my mouth, my?—

Okay, obviously I need to pull myself together. The status of her virginity is none of my damn business.

But her safety is. Right?

I wouldn’t be a very good boss if I wasn’t looking out for her welfare. Meeting some stranger off the internet is risky business. Someone needs to keep her safe.

First, I need to tell Maverick and Brantley.

Me

Come over.

Mav

No offense, but I had to look at your face all day. I need a break.

It’s not me. It’s you.

Brant

Everything okay? Please don’t tell me you tried to cook again.

Me

Why does everything have to be so difficult with the two of you? This isn’t about me. It’s about our secretary.

Mav

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