Page 21 of Jealous Boss

She blushes, but slowly the sparkle in her eyes returns.

And I’m fucking mesmerized.

“Okay, I guess that will work.” Her blue eyes go wide. “Oh, I saw a delicious-looking pasta dish on TikTok I wanted to try.”

Don’t do it.Don’t. Do. It. “Have at it, then.” I wave to the kitchen.

Pleasure explodes across her face and the truth dawns on me. I’m getting addicted to that look. Want to see it replay indefinitely.

I want to keep giving Pia Hyde things so she keeps rewarding me with that‘yes, daddy, thank you, daddy’look.

Yes. Daddy?

What the fuck?

“Really? You don’t mind?”

I shrug as if I don’t care. “No. I’m going to work in my study for a bit so I’ll be around. If you set the kitchen on fire, at least I can intervene before the whole building goes up. Hopefully.”

Her eyes widen before her dimples appear once more. “You’re teasing me.”

“Am I?” I deadpan.

Her smile dims. “You think I’ll be that bad?”

I hope so. You can’t be fucking great at everything. Life isn’t that fair.

I turn away, waving a hand as I walk away. “Just try not to cause too much chaos?”

I hightail it to my office, and I’m tempted to lock this door behind me, but I know it’s a useless exercise.

If Pia wants in, I’ll be helpless to deny her.

I just hope she gives me a few minutes’ reprieve before she bombards me with her unique brand of temptation again.

I’m well aware I’m being a complete pussy hiding from her, but I manage to work a solid two hours before my rumbling stomach sends me to my feet.

The scent of basil, decadent spices, and pasta hits me the moment I open my office door. Surprise and my intensifying hunger propel me toward the kitchen.

I stumble to a halt when I see her.

Her tiny shorts and top leave her shoulders and gorgeous legs bare, and the apron she’s tied emphasizes her tiny waist and ample butt and hips.

She turns, gives a little squeak when she sees me, then smiles.

Sweet fuck, those dimples floor me every time. I want to dive into them and live there forever.

“Hi, I was just about to come get you. Dinner is ready,” she announces.

She’s flushed, her cheeks rosy with pride and the lightest sheen of sweat. There’s a sauce smear just above her mouth, and a few tendrils of hair have come loose from her ponytail.

Yet she’s still breathtaking enough to induce alarming cardiac activity in my chest.

As she turns from the stove with a large pot, the oven alarm blares.

Her eyes go wide. “Oh! I need to get the garlic bread before it burns!”

I lunge forward, ready to be of service to my busy bee. “I’ve got it.”

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