Page 30 of Dirty Boss

When he reached me, his hand landed on my upper arm, then slid down to my wrist. His thumb brushed against my bare skin there, and I couldn’t help the shiver that went through me.

“You were also right about how to act with potential investors. To pretend that it was already a done deal.” He spoke with a low voice that seemed to twine around me, drawing me closer to him.

I gulped. “Fake it till you make it,” I said. “That’s pretty basic stuff.”

His smile was a flash of white in the darkened office. With my wrist still manacled by his fingers, I had nowhere to go. Nowhere I wanted to go. Vaughn’s free hand rose up to brush against my cheek and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch sent sparks through me. It was soft and intimate, and it made my heart ache for the old me—the one that believed in love.

“Why do I get the sense that I’m never going to see you again?” he asked, voice so low I hardly heard it over the hum of the computer and the rattle of the air vent.

I didn’t know why it felt like a dangerous question. I didn’t even know why I told him the truth. I lifted my gaze up to meet his and whispered, “You probably won’t.”

His gaze landed on mine, then dropped to my lips. “I wanted to come see you at Carmine’s,” he said. “Thank you properly for your advice.”

I snorted, pretending like his words didn’t send a wave of relief crashing through me. He’d wanted to see me. He’d thought about me. It hadn’t been the rejection I’d imagined.

And how silly was I for thinking those things? Why did I even care?

I pulled my wrist from his grasp, but I didn’t step away. “If you don’t have a single person in this company who is able to tell you when you’re wearing a bad suit, then you need to find someone who will.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Did you get another job?”

“What?”

“You said I’d never see you again. That means you’re quitting this job and the one at Carmine’s. You found something better?”

That made me laugh. “I guess you could say that.” If “something better” was selling my soul for a life of ease. Giving up the shitty independence I’d found scratching out myexistence this past year in exchange for the money and privilege I’d grown up with.

I couldn’t do it anymore. The long hours, the body-breaking work. The endless tunnel with no light in the distance.

Turned out my integrity did have a limit. I’d finally reached mine.

“Work for me instead.”

My gaze, which had wandered down to study the stubble on his jaw and the movement of his throat as he spoke, snapped back up to his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“An investor is interested. Arlo Noble. But he wants me to attend his charity’s fancy gala thing. I have no idea how to…be. How to act. What to wear. You do. You could coach me.”

My heart thumped.

I could do that. I could make this man into a titan. He had the looks and the money and the bearing; he just needed a few tweaks. It would be so easy. I’d have to go nearer to a world where money was no object and privilege was a given. A world I’d almost been shackled to by marriage.

But even if I worked for Vaughn, I wouldn’t be part of that world. I’d be the little matchstick girl, freezing in the cold while I watched from outside the window. Watchinghimfrom outside the window.

I blinked back to myself and forced myself to stand taller. “Maybe you’re not coachable, Vaughn.” I said it flippantly, because my heart had started to race.

Even if I’d forever be on the outside looking in, working for Vaughn gave me what I needed most: another option. I could work for him…and then who knew? Maybe something would come of it. I wouldn’t have to call my mother. I wouldn’t have to get on my knees and beg.

And I wanted to see Vaughn again. I wanted to feel the buzz of our banter, to see the line of his jaw and the way his face litup when he smiled. I wanted to feel my heart thumping the way it did when I saw him walk into the restaurant in that suit. I wanted to make him laugh again. If I worked for him…

Oh my God, no. I was so,soattracted to him. Working for him would be disastrous.

“I got new clothes, didn’t I? And my barber comes to the office every week.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s coachable.”

“I’m not interested.”

“You’re lying to me.” His eyes sparkled. Working for him would be my downfall. I had to get out of here before I made the worst decision of my life—and that was saying a lot.

“You know what? This is over. Goodbye.”