Page 14 of Hitched to my Boss

I step back slightly, letting him take the lead while keeping a watchful eye out for opportunities to steer the conversation toward business applications. This is what good support looks like: being present without being intrusive, ready to intervene if needed, but smart enough to stay out of the way when things are working.

"Impressive," a voice says beside me.

I turn to find Marcus Hartwell himself, drink in hand, watching Jason engage with the wildlife management group.

"Mr. Hartwell," I say, extending my hand. "Natalia Santos. I believe we have a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning."

"We do indeed." His handshake is firm and assessing. "I have to admit, I wasn't sure what to expect. Wallace's reputation for being difficult to work with is well-established."

"What do you think now?"

Hartwell watches Jason for another moment, taking in his confident explanations and easy rapport with the other professionals. "I think maybe the problem isn't that he's difficult to work with. Maybe the problem is that most people aren't worth working with."

It's such a perfect assessment of Jason's approach that I have to hide my smile. "Perhaps we should introduce you."

"Perhaps we should."

But before I can approach Jason's group, someone else approaches me from behind, close enough that I can smell whiskey on his breath.

"Well, hello there, gorgeous."

I turn to find a man in an expensive suit who can't hide the fact that he's had too much to drink. He's standing closer than appropriate, his eyes focusing somewhere south of my face.

"Can I help you?" I keep my voice polite but cool.

"You can start by telling me your name, sweetheart." His hand moves toward my arm, and I step back automatically.

"I'm here on business," I say firmly. "If you'll excuse me..."

"Come on, don't be like that." He moves closer again, blocking my path. "A beautiful woman like you shouldn't be wasting time talking business. Let me buy you a real drink."

This is exactly the kind of situation I've learned to handle in my career. Drunk men at professional events who mistake politeness for interest, who think conference settings give them license to behave inappropriately.

"No, thank you." I try to step around him, but he moves to block me again.

"Playing hard to get? I like that." His hand reaches for my waist, and I'm preparing to make it clear that his attention is unwelcome when a familiar voice cuts through the ambient noise.

"Is there a problem here?"

Jason appears beside me, and everything about his demeanor has changed. Gone is the nervous mountain man who was worried about social interaction. In his place is someone who radiates quiet menace, the kind of controlled danger that comes from military training and absolute certainty about his ability to handle threats.

The drunk man looks up at Jason's height and breadth and takes an automatic step back. "Just talking to the lady, friend. No harm done."

"The lady doesn't look interested in talking." Jason's voice is calm and conversational, but there's steel underneath. "Maybe you should find someone who is."

"Look, buddy, I don't know who you think you are..."

"I'm her boyfriend," Jason says, his arm sliding around my waist with proprietary confidence. "And you're bothering her."

The drunk man laughs. “Boyfriend? You?”

Before I can process what's happening, Jason's hand cups my face and he's kissing me. Not a gentle, fake-for-show kiss, but something hungry and claiming and absolutely devastating. His mouth moves against mine with a confidence that makes my knees weak, and I can taste champagne and something uniquely him.

My hands fist in his suit jacket, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away like any rational person would do. The kiss deepens, and suddenly I don't care that we're in a crowded ballroom, that this started as a protective gesture, that kissing my client is the most unprofessional thing I've ever done.

All I care about is the way Jason's mouth feels against mine, like he's been wanting to do this since the moment we met.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Jason's eyes are dark, pupils dilated, and there's something in his expression that has nothing to do with fake relationships and everything to do with real desire.

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