Page 6 of Jealous Boss

Who, on second thought, shares a shade of blue eyes I recall.

Oh… oh… fuck.

Didn’t Philip say his niece had been thrown into some school in Switzerland for the last decade or so?

I swallow the knot in my throat that’s come out of nowhere as I trail Maggie and the girl to my colleague’s office. I linger a few steps away, unable to tear my gaze from her.

She’s wearing a skirt suit and heels.

It would’ve been professional and decent. Except… the skirt is clinging to a very curvy, very delicious ass, and the slit at the back shows a hint of the back of her thighs with each twitch of her stride.

It makes my fingers itch to trace her creamy skin, and the heels shoot images of me holding those sexy, delicate ankles wide apart, my entire world focused on what’s between those thighs as I pump, pump, pump into her pink innocent flesh.

And I know she’s innocent.

I’m a fucking shark.

I can sense prey from a thousand miles. And this magnificent goddess is as innocent as they come.

Maggie ushers her into the room, and a dozen heads turn.

I grit my teeth as Harris, one of the four other partners on this floor, rises, his eyes darting all over her as he steps forward to shake her hand.

He says something to her, and even from the hallway, I see her blush.

Irrational jealousy and fury surge within me, and my fists bunch as I close the distance to his office.

Just in time to hear Harris say, “Welcome to the firm, Pia Hyde. I hope you enjoy your internship. My door is always open if you need anything.”

Every cell in my body goes cold. Then hot.

Maggie walks toward me, frowning again.

I ignore her as I try to grapple with what’s unraveling before me.

The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, who made my cock stand to attention just by being on the same floor as me, is Philip Hyde’s niece.

The girl I’m supposed to watch for three whole months.

The girl I want to bend over my desk and fuck more than I want my next breath.

Fuck. Me.

2

Pia

Ibite my lip and try to stop myself from crying.

I’m not a baby, for heaven’s sake. So why am I hiding in the toilet for the second time today, wringing my fingers and taking deep breaths so I don’t wail likeun enfant?

It all started Saturday, when Uncle Phil told me he wouldn’t be meeting me at the airport; that I wouldn’t be staying with him and Aunt Barb and commuting into the office with him as we’d discussed last month.

Why did he make me leave Switzerland to come to Philadelphia if he intended to go away to St. Lucia?

I press my lips together to catch a sob rising in my throat. I know why.

He didn’t want to be saddled with a burden. Not when his own wife wasn’t well. He didn’t tell me that, of course. But the headmistress and the teachers at La Montreux weren’t as discreet as they liked the parents to think.

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