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Which meant this was really happening.
I would be roommates with my boss for six weeks. More than that, I would becooking dinnerfor my boss for six weeks.
I’d lost my mind. I’d been nothing but a big ol’ ball of regret ever since we’d had lunch. I could scarcely believe we’d had that conversation about one-night stands.
He’d actually teased me.
And not in a mean way.
Theodore Black had playfully teased me, and I’d blushed the whole time.
In my defense, I thought anyone would blush if a man as handsome as him started teasing them about sex and one-night stands. I’d only put that in the list because the twins had brought it up the other night. It really wasn’t something I was considering, and if my boss did partake in such ‘frivolities,’ as he put it, then it was none of my business.
I just didn’t want to hear other people having sex.
I’d had enough of that during my university years.
I also didn’t want to hear mybosshaving sex. Not because he was my boss, but because contrary to the opinion of my best friends, I was a sexually active young woman, and if I heard Theodore Black having sex, I was absolutely going toimaginehim having sex.
For the rest of my life, probably.
My phone buzzed in my bag, and I kicked off my heels while reaching aimlessly around on the ground for my bag. My fingertips made contact with the handle, and I briefly sat up to find my phone out of the abyss before lying back down again and checking my messages.
I froze.
What did The Bastard want now?
THE BASTARD: How did your appointment go with the lawyer?
Hmm.
It was a first for him to text me out of the blue without demanding something. Especially when it wasn’t about work—although this kind of was. I wanted to joke that it went badly, but I wasn’t sure we were quite there.
ME: It went well. There are no problems signing it tomorrow.
THE BASTARD: Good to know. In that case, I met with my father before I left the office and we’re leaving next Saturday.
I pursed my lips. Saturday? A cross-country trip? He was welcome to, but I certainly wasn’t going to embark on a five-and-a-half-hour drive on a weekend.
ME: What kind of a sadist makes a 5.5hr drive by choice on a weekend?
Whoops. I’d meant to suggest it was a bad idea, but my fingers moved faster than my brain.
THE BASTARD: That’s a good point. Should we leave on Friday instead?
ME: That depends on your schedule, sir.
THE BASTARD: You usually know it.
ME: Please forgive me for not having the next ten days perfectly memorised.
THE BASTARD: Since you asked nicely, you’re forgiven.
THE BASTARD: Are you checking?
ME: No. I’m lying on my sofa contemplating the meaning of life, if you must know.
THE BASTARD: I thought you would be looking.
