Page 8 of The Boss’s Obsession
“What can I get you?”
“Something strong,” I muttered to the bartender. I wasn’t much of a drinker. As my therapist had so annoyingly pointed out, I didn’t like feeling out of control. I blew out a breath and tried to pry my shoulders from their position of being bunched under my ears. I tried to keep my mind off the fact that Sienna’s apartment was just a few blocks over. I knew this area well. I’d helped her father choose her apartment as an investment. It was a leafy, safe neighborhood. When he’d died, unfortunately, his company had held a lot of debts, most of which, I’d absorbed through Turner Tech. I’d left the buyout money in a trust for Sienna, safe and sound, for her to get when she turned twenty-five. I’d also paid off the remainder of the mortgage on the apartment, and made sure it was transferred free and clear to her name, so it hadn’t been swept up in the debtor's claims.
The bartender placed a tumbler of amber liquid before me. She smiled, leaning a tattooed arm on the bartop. “You look like a whiskey kind of guy, and this is top shelf because you’ve got wealth written all over you. Enjoy.”
I tipped her generously and raised the glass to my mouth. The smoky liquor burned at my tongue and warmed my chest as it slid down. As soon as the burn faded, a soft glow enveloped my head. It was awful and brilliant. An escape.
“You have good taste,” I called to the bartender and knocked the rest back in a fiery slug. “I’ll take the bottle.”
CHAPTER7
Sienna
“Ok, I will do, don’t worry,” I reassured Jim, Ronan’s driver, who’d called me half an hour ago, worried that his boss had disappeared after his therapy session.
I’d just been on my way out of the office, early for once, and now, I was almost home. I’d called Ronan’s number about twenty times, to no answer, and now, it was going straight to voicemail. Anxiety crawled in my veins. Ronan Turner wasn’t an unpredictable man. He had his routines and stuck to them no matter what. Disappearing on Jim was unheard of.
I turned the corner of my street and hurried toward my apartment. It was the top floor of a beautiful brownstone, and it was my dream one day to save enough to buy the bottom floor as well, but now I was walking away from my exceptionally well-paid job, and it looked like that dream would have to wait a little longer. I didn’t really know what to do when I got home, I just hoped that something would come to me. I needed to charge my phone as it had already died. I’d already called the doorman of the exclusive building that Ronan lived in, and knew he wasn’t at home. Where would he have gone?
I drew closer to my stairs and stilled as I made out a dark shadow slumped against the railing. Relief crashed with worry as I took in the distinctive wide shape of Ronan’s shoulders, and his distinguished profile, leaning against the rail. He had his eyes closed and his tie had been loosened. His phone lay on the ground beside him, and he seemed asleep.
“Mr. Turner?” I asked, stepping closer. He looked so vulnerable like that, sitting on a city street, with all the usual luxury and security stripped away. “Ronan,” I tried.
His eyes blinked open and fixed on me, then a slight smile stretched across his lips. “Sienna, you’re finally home.”
“You were waiting for me?”
He nodded, the motion making his head drop forward dangerously. His whole body swayed forward and I ducked in quickly to prop him up. As soon as I got close, the smell hit me.
“Have you been drinking?” Another unprecedented move.
He nodded, and let his eyes close again. “Sure have.”
As I stared at him, closer than I’d ever been, my shoulder lodged under his, my pulse started to pound. Despite the strong fumes of whiskey, he still smelled good.
“I need to call Jim to come and get you,” I said after taking a long moment to sniff the bare patch of skin where his firm, tanned neck poked out under his collar.
“My phone died,” he muttered. “I couldn’t call anyone, not even you, but look at that… you came anyway.” He was rambling.
“Well, I do live here,” I pointed out, grabbing his phone and shifting to hold his hands. His hands immediately tightened on mine, dwarfing mine straight away. The man had big hands. That made me feel things I wasn’t quite sure what to do about.
“I know. I know you live here. I know everything about you, Sienna, or I thought I did,” he rambled, as I pulled him up, and steadied him as he swayed against the railing.
“You are too big to carry, and we need to charge one of the phones before I can call Jim, so you’re coming with me,” I told him, turning him toward the door.
“Promise?” Ronan breathed against my hair, as we staggered up the last stairs and got in the door.
“I promise,” I played along. Ten minutes and a lot of frustration later, we made it into my apartment. I lead him along the hall into the sitting room and lowered him to the couch.
“You stay there, while I go and charge my phone,” I muttered, about to pull back, just as his arm clamped around me, holding me against his chest. His eyes fluttered open and he stared at me.
“I was wrong, though, wasn’t I? I don’t know everything about you. I never did.” His quiet mutter broke my heart for a second.
“There’s not much to know,” I responded, equally grave.
He studied me a moment longer. “Liar,” he murmured, and let his eyes close.
Taking a deep breath, I extracted myself from his heavy arm, grabbed my phone, and headed to my room. Plugging it in, I shook my coat off, and stripped out my work clothes, putting on warm cozy pajamas, while I waited for it to charge. I felt cold and my throat was itching. I was pretty sure I was coming down with something.
