Page 454 of Manhattan Bossholes

At least I was going to have the last laugh once she figured out who she was messing with.

2

NATALIE

Was this the way I was going to die?

At the hands of a power tripping burglar in Burberry, who was sizing me up through narrowed eyes? Because the absolute last thing I needed at the end of a long day at the shop was a death match with a criminal who seemed to be judging me.

I mean, what the hell gave him the right to say all of that about me? He’d known me for less than five minutes while he was robbing me—or whatever crime it was he was trying to commit here—and yet he thought he could judge me just from that? What could he know about my brains and talent—or my work ethic or my commitment to my job or anything else about me? What could a silver-spoon-up-his-ass snob like that know about working three jobs while getting your degree? Or putting a life together out of nothing?

And the way he looked at me. Like I was a…a dust bunny he’d just kicked out from under the couch. Or a carton of expired milk that he’d just made the mistake of sniffing. The way his nose was sort of scrunched up and his dark brows were knitted together…you’d think I was the one trespassing!

Well, security was on the way; they’d escort this jackass out, and I’d have the last laugh. I could already picture Dave hauling him away by the scruff of his shirt.

His expensive shirt. Very expensive. I knew clothes, and I knew how much he must have spent on it. I felt a little petty satisfaction at the thought that it was ruined now…even though I had to admit, it kinda looked better ruined, given the way the mop water made it cling to him, showing off strong shoulders and that V-shape that made it clear the guy knew his way around a gym. Not that I was checking him out or anything, despite the fact that he had the kind of body that would make me do a double take in any other scenario. No, I was merely scanning him for safety’s sake, because who knew what this stranger was capable of.

I mean, he was tall, and he definitely looked strong. His sleeves were working overtime to keep his biceps covered. And when he turned around, of course my eyes dipped to check out his ass. (Round? Yup. Firm? Sure seemed that way but I’d need to do some hands-on inspection to confirm.) Despite all of the muscles, I felt confident I could take him. I knew how to be scrappy and fight dirty when I had to. Growing up the way I did, it wasn’t like I had a choice. Yup, I could do this. In fact, I wanted to.

“You’re overconfident, and from what I can see, you don’t have a reason to be.” His gaze traveled down my body for the billionth time, sending a shiver up the back of my neck.

“Stop looking at me!” I shouted at him. “Stalker!”

He closed his eyes and let his head drop back. “Oh my fucking God, I am not a stalker. Quit saying that.”

“Quit giving me reasons to! You’ve been staring at me this whole time.”

“Can you blame me? I was trying to fend off your damn mop. I happen to like my nose intact.”

Dave finally jogged into the room, his hand resting on the walkie at his waist. I breathed a sigh of relief. Even though I was positive I could save myself, it felt good to have backup in the form of our massive head of security.

“You okay, Natalie? I got the distress signal—” He froze and his mouth dropped open when he noticed the stranger in the room with me.

Yes! Things were about to get interesting. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his stupid-handsome face as Dave escorted him to the door—or maybe even turned him over to the cops.

“Oh…Mr. Br-Branson, hello,” Dave stuttered. “Did you need… Uh, how can I be of assistance?”

Hold on. Wait a sec. Branson? As in, my employer, Branson Designs? No way.

But…now that I took a minute to think about it instead of just reacting, it sort of made sense. The guy had an almost regal air, like he knew he was the shit, and he was pissed that I had the nerve to question him. Maybe I should have realized his oh-so-superior attitude was because he was part of this business’s ruling family.

But overprivileged guys like that rubbed me the wrong way so completely that I just couldn’t help lashing out. It was like he had a force field around him that made even the air I breathed a little more aggravating. And it didn’t help that in addition to looking like he could bench press me, there was also the way I felt his when his gaze lingered on me. I had a hard time staring back at him, because my stomach did embarrassing flip-flops every time our eyes met. It had to be my adrenaline kicking in, but the truth was, it felt like something else entirely. I licked my lips and forced myself to focus on what an asshole he was.

“I’m a little frustrated at the moment, Dave. And wet.” He glared at me as he gestured to the front of his button-down.

“I see that, boss.” Dave chuckled nervously. “What happened in here?”

Hearing Dave call him “boss” set off warning bells in my head. Bad enough that he was a Branson, but Branson Designs employed a shit ton of Bransons, some of them in pretty minor roles. I’d been hoping that maybe he was an operator in the call center. Or the intern wrangler. Or a tech dude at the help desk. Something that gave him no actual authority over me. But “boss” sounded ominous. Very ominous.

“It seems that Miss…” The guy trailed off and looked at me expectantly as if I’d willingly offer up my name to him. Yeah, right!

“Reynolds,” Dave said. “Her name is Natalie Reynolds.”

Damnit, Dave!

“Miss Reynolds,” the guy gloated, “has been abusing our sound system after hours. And when I came in to get her to turn down the music, she accosted me with a mop.”

“Hey, just hold on! You scared the shit out of me,” I shouted, stomping closer to him. I turned to Dave for support. “He was hiding in the shadows, spying on me. And then he wouldn’t give me a straight answer about who he was, so I defended myself—while protecting the store!”