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One
Fliss
My boss pops the question on a rainy Thursday after lunch.
Notthequestion, obviously. That would be too perfect, too dreamlike—and pretty weird, since for all the years I’ve worked for him, despite my ginormous crush, Sebastian Bamford has only ever seen me as his zany assistant.
No, the beautiful genius summons me into his top floor office with a few curt words through the intercom, then waits behind his huge desk, jaw clenched.
“Felicity.”
Despite my nudging, he’s only ever called me Fliss twice in our whole acquaintance. Once at the company holiday party two years ago, when he greeted me solemnly by the pop up bar. I remember it vividly, not just because of the name thing, but because he wore a black knitted sweater instead of his usual suit, and his cheeks were pink from walking down the frosty street.Swoon.
The second time was when I had three days off work with a stomach flu. Sebastian called me at home on the third day, to ‘check whether I needed anything’. Really, I think he suspected I was playing hooky.
Um, as if.
Not because I care so much about emails and appointments and refilling the water cooler cups, to be clear. But to willingly lose a day with Sebastian Bamford? The sexy, bossy nerd of my dreams? Are you crazy?
“I have a strange request.” He’s staring out of the huge windows. Raindrops patter against the glass, then streak down and blur the city skyline. Downtown looks like one giant smudge.
“Okay. What is it, sir?”
His mouth flattens, and he keeps scowling outside. I wait, shifting from foot to foot, but… nothing.
Alrighty.
I’m used to my boss’s moods, so I distract myself with mental notes. Like: that potted plant in the corner needs water. And Sebastian has that video conference at two, the one with the German team. Should I double-check the translator? Wait, I did that already. But should I triple-check?
“It’s not work-related,” he says.
I bite the inside of my cheek, suddenly laser-focused. The air hums through the AC. “I’m very discreet, sir. You can trust me.”
Trust me… Confide in me… Maybe love me back one day…
Are you listening, universe? Just putting it out there.
“It’s delicate,” Sebastian says.
He’s killing me here. “I’m sure I can handle it.”
Because seriously, whatever it is, I’ve got this. Picking up his dry cleaning? Booking a doctor’s appointment? Lying to his awful family for him? I’m there, no sweat, because I’ve been gone for my boss since day one. G-O-N-E. Head over heels for this beautiful grump, with his neat bronze hair and his tortoiseshell glasses and his perfectly pressed suits. I love him so much, it gives me indigestion.
When he rumbles orders at me in that deep voice—it’s like he’s reading me a sonnet. When he ignores me in the elevator, I swoon.
Gray eyes find mine, and shivers race down my spine. My face heats, despite the cool air flowing through a vent on the wall. This building should have a warning right above the entrance—Caution: Boss may cause dizziness.
“I have no right to ask you this, Felicity.” He’s so solemn; so pained. The rain-dulled daylight barely reaches his desk, and he’s lit by the golden glow of a table lamp. “If you say no, it won’t affect your work at all. Is that understood?”
Color me intrigued… though for the record, I’d do virtually anything for this man, including commit petty crimes. For Sebastian Bamford, my morals are scanty as hell.
He’s just sonoble.And hardworking and stern and delicious. Every second I’m near him, my fingers itch to yank on his tie. I want to climb into his lap and kiss him so hard I knock his glasses askew.
“Understood. What is it, sir?”
A muscle leaps in his jaw. Sebastian frowns over my shoulder into space, and the lamplight glints against his bronze hair. “I have a family event next weekend,” he says slowly. “An important one, and… I need a date.”
Oh my god. Oh my god.
