Page 17 of Big Boss
She even gives my hand an encouraging little pat, her chipped black nail polish distracting the shit out of me. "You can tell me."
Dang it. This is definitely not how this was supposed to go when I rehearsed it in my head. I was going to tell her what to do and she was going to submit to my demands. I planned to tame this wild creature and force her to do what I need, and instead she’s reaching out to comfort me.
When I know that I don't really deserve it.
"I've found a solution to the entire Bella LeGrande issue." I manage to keep my voice from shaking, but it takes a lot of determination.
"I see," she says softly. Then she stands and lunges for me, giving me a quick hug. Her body is soft and sinfully sweet against mine, but even as I notice how good she feels, I remind myself all over again to put those thoughts aside. But also, why is this girl in the ugly black sack of a dress hugging me?
"What are you doing, Erica?" I make the question as light as I can, harmless. Unlike the desire that's coursing through me at the press of her soft curves against me.
"I'll just get my things and get out of your way." She pulls away. "I won't bother asking you to be a reference for me. I can figure something else out." She nods at me once and then her face crumples.
Damn it. I'm definitely not good at dealing with people crying. I can't stand it when people around me act like they are about to cry. It's excruciating for me to watch someone in that sort of emotional pain.
But apparently, it's about fifty times worse when the person is this upset about a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding that I created because I’m too much of a coward to get the words out that need to be said.
I grip her shoulders and pull her into me, smothering her sobs with a fierce hug. "Look, I'm not firing you," I murmur into her hair. "Now quit blubbering and let me talk."
She stops with the almost-sobs immediately, whether it's because I told her she can keep her job or because I'm the best hugger on the planet, who knows. Either way works for me.
I don't let her go right away though, because I don't want her to start carrying on again. She keeps hiccuping dangerously, as if tears are right around the corner. It doesn't hurt that she feels damn good wrapped up in my arms.
I pet her hair, soothing her like I would any scared animal. Her hair is distractingly long and soft, with just a little curl to it. A little bit wild, much like Erica herself.
"I really need you to do something for me."
It must sound filthy when I say it. She stiffens and pulls away from my touch, her eyes aflame with indignation.
I swear. "No, not like that. I don't know what kind of horror stories you've been hearing, but I don't fuck the staff here."
She flinches at the words, and I immediately want to shove them back into my mouth, but they're the truth and the sooner she makes peace with who I am, the better this entire plan is going to go for both of us.
I’m her boss. This is nothing more than a business transaction. That’s all it can be.
I clear my throat. "I need to take a nice girl to the charity function. A really nice girl who won't throw me to the journalistic sharks or use my name to claw her way onto some Hollywood gossip site."
And now because of my moody behavior, Erica's giving me a very deeply puzzled look, and I don't blame her. I've been making an absolute mess of everything with her since the moment we met. Why would I change that pattern now?
"But Mister Tate, I don't know anybody like that. I told you before that I don't have any sort of connections, and I wasn't kidding. Unless you want me to set you up with one of the girls I knew from school, but I really don't know any of them all that well. Certainly not well enough to trust them with you." Her lips purse in thought.
Even after she thought I was about to make her do something objectionable in exchange for keeping her job, she's still standing here trying to solve my problems. No, it’s more than that. She's trying toprotectme.
The damaged heart in my chest thumps painfully. I want to tell her what it means to me to have someone act like they genuinely care about me, but I can't bring myself to do it.
Because if I tell her, that will make it real. She'll know too much about me, and she'll see me for what I am. A fraud. A phony. Nothing but smoke and mirrors and a bad reputation that I can't shake. Even if this crappy plan of mine works, it's just enough to carry me through to the next fuckup.
I take a deep breath and let the words spill out before I lose my nerve. "Erica. I don't need you to set me up with one of your college friends."
Her shoulders sag as she lets out a long exhale. "Thank goodness. I couldn't come up with any of them who would be anything other than terrible. Like a walking train wreck speeding into your already overly complicated life."
I stifle the laughter that threatens to spill out of my mouth. "I don't need a date with anyone thatyou'redescribing as a train wreck."
Her mouth freezes in a perfect circle of surprise. Well, I guess that came out a little bit meaner than I meant it to. "Then what exactly are you in here hyperventilating about? I already apologized for what happened yesterday, and even as diligent as I am, I can't undo the past."
It’s all I can do to not shake her to make her stop talking. "Listen. You're going to have to come with me. To the event. As my date."
She turns slowly toward me, her eyes blinking at me owlishly. She's already shaking her head, and I can feel my pulse racing because I have to get her to say yes.
