Page 3 of #Bossholes

But I won’t. Nope. I can’t.

Not that I have a boyfriend to worry about anymore, but there’s no way a guy as sexy as this would want someinexperienced twenty-three-year-old virgin. He’s so out of my league we may as well be on separate planets.

This man exudes money and confidence. Power. Raw masculinity.

He’s fucking perfect. Every inch of him. Everything from his expertly tousled dark blond hair, his intoxicating amber eyes, the angular lines of his jaw, and the muscular body I’m sure is underneath his Tom Ford, custom-tailored suit.

And then there’s me—stiff as a board. Literally.

A throat clears at some point during my very innocent perusal, and I’m embarrassed to say it took me several beats to realize it was him. You know, because I was blatantly eye fucking him like a shameless hussy.What is wrong with me?

I shouldn’t be having any of these inappropriate thoughts running rampant in my brain. I got dumped this morning, for fuck’s sake. This guy, no matter how attractive he is, screams player. He’s dangerous. Charming. Not for me.

“Sorry, these are my favorite. Didn’t mean to startle you, Miss…?” His voice—a voice that’s smooth like honey and already has my skin breaking out in goosebumps—trails off, and he tilts his head, assessing me.

“Miss Rhodes, legal secretary. I’ve only been here a couple weeks.” I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders, and force my eyes to stay on his face.

With a quick laugh, he adjusts his tie, a vibrant purple which nicely offsets his gray suit. “That explains why I haven’t caught you double fisting the chocolate chunks before.”

I shrug, gesturing to his…everything.”I doubt our paths will cross much. I’m up on the nineteenth floor with the junior associates and paralegals.”

He smirks, his eyes gleaming. “And I don’t look like a junior associate?”

“Not exactly.”

“You don’t go to the upper floors?”

“What? Me? Never.” My voice comes out all high pitched, and I’m not sure what’s happening to me. And now I’m laughing, and it sounds like a cross between a hyena and a mongoose. What am I doing? “I like to keep my soul intact, thank you.” His eyes harden, and his entire body stiffens. Apparently, I’m digging myself a nice deep hole to sit in. “Shit. Sorry. Not that I’m implying you don’t have a soul. It’s just the senior partners on the twenty-first. I’ve heard they’re quite scary and possibly Dementors. Or emotional vampires. I guess that’s why they specialize in divorce law. I mean, not that it’s a bad thing. I’m sure you’re great at divorces. Again, I’m so sorry. Enjoy your cookie.”

Abort! Abort!

All the red lights are flashing in my head, and I do the only thing I can think of—I wave my cookies at him and dart back to my table.

I don’t look back; I can’t. I’m pretty sure my face is a bright red, and I’ve succeeded in making an epic ass out of myself. I don’t think that could’ve gone worse. Maybe if I actually vomited on him instead of the word jumble that came out of my mouth…

Yeah, that would be worse.

With my face still flaming with mortification, I shove half a cookie in my mouth, and that’s when I notice Brianna and Margo, who are both now seated across from me, completely frozen and staring directly at me.

“What? Do I have chocolate on my face?” I run the back of my hand across my mouth just in case. I don’t want to go back to work with a brown streak on my face. That would be terrible.

Margo’s eyes are wide as she leans toward me, her voice a harsh whisper. “Are you okay?”

I wave her off, taking another bite of cookie, this one smaller. It’s no big deal; I’m probably on the verge of a mentalbreakdown. “Just put my foot in my mouth a little bit. I’m sure it’s fine. Do you know him?”

“Put your foot in your mouth? What did you say?” Brianna’s clutching her chest as she shares a concerned look with Margo. These two are more dramatic than I thought.

“Really, it was no biggie. He asked if I ever made it to the upper floors, and I told him I liked my soul intact before I realized it sounded like all the upper floors and then I clarified the twenty-first floor.I told him your thing about the Dementors. He probably didn’t get the analogy. I doubt a guy like that has seen any of the Harry Potter movies.”

With every word that comes out of my mouth, their eyes widen and their mouths drop further.

“Do you not…?” Brianna trails off, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “That was Maverick Wallace.”

I blink. And blink again. That means nothing to me.

Except—no. It can’t be the same Wallace because that would mean I pretty much told my boss’s boss how terrible he and his partners are.

Margo closes her eyes and tilts her head toward the ceiling, mumbling what I can only assume is a prayer. “He’s one of the senior partners.”

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