Page 16 of Her Filthy Cold Billionaire Boss

I’m going to die of shame.

At least you’ll die in a mansion. Don’t forget to write me into your will.

If I die, avenge me. And delete my browser history. And throw away my rose.

Consider it done… can I keep the rose?

I groaned in disgust and her next message popped up.

Just kidding! Did I gross you out and distract you?

Actually, she had, for a moment.I’m writing you out of my will.

Comon baby, don’t be like that.

And I’m going to tell your mom.

She’d think it’s hilarious. She gets my humor. Now go have some fun with Mr. Hot Boss.

I shook my head.Don’t call him that, please.

No promises! Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

The koi began to move, sluggish orange and white, moving under the surface. One nudged the lily pad nearest me, sending a shiver of ripples out toward the center of the pond. A glass panel above my head caught a shaft of early sunlight, refracting it into rainbows that danced across the tile. For a second, I imagined what it would be like to be someone else; someone who belongedhere, who didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, or getting fired, or making a fool of herself in front of the world’s most terrifying boss.

I could almost see her; elegant, unruffled, hair pinned instead of wild, perfectly in control of her own face and limbs. She would know what to do with a man like Gareth Wolfe. She would not, under any circumstances, let him see her blush.

I snorted. As if.

Curious, I touched a finger to the pond water, and yanked my hand back.

There was a rattle from the far end of the conservatory; a watering can, maybe, or a pot shifting on its base. I jolted upright, heart in my mouth, but it was nothing. The silence rolled back in. I checked the time. Still an hour before I was technically supposed to be awake. I pocketed my phone, dusted off my knees, and stood.

I drifted to the far side of the dome, drawn to the scent of roses wafting in through the open ventilation panel. The rose garden was Edenha!compared to the conservatory; neat rows, every bloom trimmed and perfect, the beds freshly turned. But the best part was the privacy. Out here, you could scream and no one would hear you over the wind and the bees.

So I walked between the rows, trailing my fingers over the petals, careful not to snag a thorn. Morning dew clung to the leaves, glimmering like tiny jewels, and the air was so cold it burned my lungs. The contrast with the hot, wet breath of the conservatory made me shiver all the way through.

I stopped at the white roses, my grandmother’s favorite, and took a photo. I tossed it in my conversation with my bestie.

Thought you’d like these.

OMG, so pretty. Are you going to steal some seeds and start your own goth garden?

I laughed. Only if I can breed a variety called “Anxiety Queen.”

I would buy it in bulk.

A rush of happiness shot through me. I could always trust Ruby to have my back.

My hands were numb from the cold and my hair stuck to my forehead in damp ringlets, but I felt lighter than I had in days.

A crow landed on the edge of the fountain, eyed me, then cawed once before flying off. I half expected it to leave behind a tiny scroll with my next assignment from the boss. Stop making a spectacle of yourself and get back to work.

But there was no one here. Just me, the roses, and the knowledge that somewhere inside, Gareth Wolfe was probably already awake, probably reviewing his schedule, probably plotting a way to make my day even more memorable than the last.

I took a deep breath, filled my lungs with cold, rose-scented air, and reminded myself that I could handle this. I could handle anything. Even a boss who looked at me like I was both the problem and the solution.

My phone buzzed again.