Page 15 of Her Filthy Cold Billionaire Boss

I padded down the hall, past locked doors and scowling portraits, until I reached my destination, the conservatory. It was a glass dome tacked onto the east side of the house, humid as a jungle and probably as expensive as the rest of the mansion put together. The light in there was always different, softer,filtered through mist and green leaves, less judgmental than the fluorescents of the main halls. More forgiving.

And given how early it was, there was less of a chance to bump into Leo. I hoped, anyway.

I pressed my palm to the old brass handle, half expecting an alarm or at least a disapproving worker to materialize, but there was nothing. Just the squeak of the door as it yielded and the whoosh of tropical air as it hit my face. Instantly, my skin beaded with sweat. Every surface dripped with condensation. The smell was wet earth and orchids, sweet and a little spicy, in a way that made your lungs ache.

The conservatory was empty, as I’d hoped. The gardeners wouldn’t arrive for hours. I navigated the winding brick path, ducked under the arching fronds of some prehistoric palm, and settled onto the wrought-iron bench that faced the koi pond. The koi were still, pale slashes and orange streaks under the water. The only movement was the occasional drip from a leaf overhead, plunking into the glassy surface.

I pulled out my phone and unlocked it, thumb hovering over the chat with my best friend. She’s likely be awake at this hour, most likely eating stale vending machine Pop-Tarts and diagnosing me from a thousand miles away. I typed:

Are you up? Please say yes, I’m having a crisis.

She responded before I could finish second-guessing myself:

Always. What’s the emergency, is it haunted? Did they make you clean a bathroom with your tongue?

No tongue cleaning. At least, not yet. But I did almost die on the main staircase and the boss CAUGHT ME. I want to lick his chest clean.

There was a pause, then:

Did he cradle you in his arms like a Victorian damsel or just let you bounce?

Option A, I think. There was hand-to-rib contact. Like, a lot.

Her response was instant:OMG. You are living my favorite fanfic.

That is NOT helping. He’s my boss. It was mortifying. Also, he is so far out of my league, he might not even be human.

He’s totally human. Did you check for a tail?

I giggled.No, but I did check for fangs. He has none, but he does have this vein on his neck that pops when he’s angry? Or maybe aroused? Unclear.

Please elaborate on “aroused.”

With a snort, I responded,Not in a million years.

I blushed furiously, even though there was no one around to witness it. Except maybe the koi. I looked at my reflection in the pond, flushed, hair everywhere, hoodie pulled up like a terrible burglar, and considered how much worse this could get before breakfast.

I wanted to elaborate, a little bit at least.I’m being professional. Very. But he keeps… looking at me.

Looking how? Like, “I want to promote you,” or “I want to eat you for breakfast”?

I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me.More like “I want to do both at the same time and then set you on fire for good measure.”

Hot.I could hear her voice saying the word out loud as if she were here, and that made my heart squeeze. I missed her.

NO. That is the opposite of hot. That is dangerous.

You always did like dangerous.

I would swear she was missing the point on purpose.Please, for the love of god, distract me. How’s your night? Any vampires?

One guy tried to bite me but he was just high on ketamine. Please tell me more about your boss’s hands.

I set the phone down on the bench and covered my face. This was pointless. If I told her about how his fingers had curled around my ribs, thumbs a kiss of space below my breasts, or how he’d looked at my mouth in the library, I would never hear the end of it.

With a sigh, I stared into the pond. I was supposed to be here to work, to get my life together, to finally be someone who didn’t flinch at every authority figure with a haircut. Instead, I was journaling about my crush in a tropical greenhouse and sweating through my pajamas.

I picked up the phone and typed.