Grumpy Romance : A Romantic Comedy (Billionaire Dads)
Grumpy Romance: Chapter 13

KENYA

The metal shutters roar as we drag them down. The store fades from sight, barricaded behind a stylish white drape with the Belle’s Beauty logo spray-painted on.

“Good work today,” the store manager says, squeezing my arm. She looks absolutely exhausted. Her hair sticks out of her bun, her pudgy cheeks are splotchy and dark bags fall beneath her eyes.

I’m sure I look equally zombie-like.

“You too.” I croak.

She flashes me a genuine smile. Annoyance flowed both ways when I first took on this job. But today, there’s a sense of camaraderie between us.

War can do that to people. Burn the prejudice and assumptions right out of them. Surviving requires working together. And nothing bonds people like shared trauma.

Perhaps I’m exaggerating. The chaos at the Belle’s Beauty location today can’t compare to real soldiers fighting on the frontlines, but it sure felt like a battlefield. A hundred people pressing in at once. Cell phones whirring. Anger singeing the air.

It was anarchy.

I saw the helpless looks from the staff, and I couldn’t stand still. My brain threw all kinds of crazy ideas at me. I picked one and jumped right into the fray with the team.

“What you did today was awesome,” the manager says. Her brown eyes squint at me. “When I first met you, I thought you were one of those ambitious suits who’d do anything to get ahead.”

“Thanks.” My voice is scratchy.

She laughs. “I have a lot of respect for you now.”

Her words would mean a lot more if I wasn’t dead on my feet.

“Get some sleep.” The manager points to her throat. “And rest your voice. Sounds like you rubbed your vocal box raw.”

I sigh in agreement. I’ve been talking to customers all day. It’s a good thing, really. News of our ‘pre-order promotion’ spread far and wide. What was supposed to be damage control turned into a bigger buzz than anyone had anticipated.

When the last customer left Belle’s Beauty, I found that my voice left me too. Now, I’m channeling my inner Ariel from The Little Mermaid. Too bad there aren’t any forks I can twirl around my hair.

I notice a tall figure prowling in the distance.

It’s Alistair. He’s wearing a black coat over a white shirt and a pair of grey, fitted trousers. His stride is so powerful that his coat glides with an invisible wind.

My heart starts breakdancing. I’m too tired to pretend that Grump-Vader isn’t the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

In my mermaid reenactment, would Alistair be the evil sea sorcerer or the handsome prince?

The store manager stops in her tracks, her eyes glued to Alistair. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” I croak.

Ezekiel scurries ahead, his warm smile lighting on me.

I nod.

He returns the gesture and approaches the clerks who are standing behind us.

“Mr. Alistair sent tea,” Ezekiel says, handing them a cup, “a bonus,” he hands envelopes out next, “and an extra, paid vacation day that can be scheduled in the upcoming month.”

“Yes!” The sales clerks high-five.

I grin, genuinely happy for them. When I used to work part-time jobs, I noticed employers would rather peel their skin off than offer vacation days. One particular hag used to berate me for taking my allotted leave.

My eyes swerve to Alistair in approval.

He staunchly ignores me.

Well then.

“This is for you, Kenya.” Ezekiel takes one of my hands and wraps it around the cup. “We heard you lost your voice.”

“Did you?” I arch an eyebrow.

Ezekiel steps back and gestures to Alistair. “You all did great work today. We’re thankful that you’re a part of the Belle’s Beauty family and we’d like to assure you that your efforts today have not gone unnoticed.”

“T-thank you.” The store manager slants a nervous glance in Alistair’s direction.

He nods coolly, not saying a word.

What? Is Ezekiel his mouth piece? Will he fall into a coma if he says the word ‘thanks’ just once?

I roll my eyes and take a sip of the coffee. It burns my tongue.

Even worse, it’s not coffee.

“Ah.” I cry out.

Before I can blink, Alistair is beside me. “What’s wrong?”

“This is tea.” I scrunch my nose and accept the handkerchief he offers. “That’s disgusting.”

His eyebrows pull together in a stormy expression. “What’s wrong with tea?”

“It tastes like old dishwater.”

Ezekiel snorts.

My eyes dart to him. “I’m serious. I want coffee.”

“You’re not getting coffee,” Alistair snaps. Like I’m a petulant child who doesn’t know how to eat his vegetables. “Tea is better for your voice.” He points to the cup like a true tea snob. “It’s green tea with lemon and honey.”

“It’s dishwater.” I stick out my tongue and try to get the distasteful substance off.

Alistair glowers at me. “I’ll be in the car.”

Ezekiel looks stunned.

Mr. Big Bad Wolf turns stiffly and stalks away, creating his own storm clouds and lightning.

The store manager shuffles back. “Is he angry?”

“He’s always like that.” I dismiss Alistair as he stalks out of sight.

The ladies look shocked. And I realize that Alistair’s behavior really is astonishing to people who haven’t been subject to his brand of evil. I’ve been working with him for so long that I kind of just roll with the punches.

Ezekiel claps to shift the mood. “Thanks again, ladies. Rest well tonight.” He raises a hand. “On Friday, you’re all invited to the Belle’s Beauty celebratory dinner. It’ll be a small gathering for the staff to unwind. Nothing fancy. You’re welcome to come if you’d like. Mr. Alistair will be paying for food, drinks, everything.”

“Cool!”

“Awesome!”

The clerks look impressed.

I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “Was that your idea?”

“Company policy. We celebrate our wins.” He winks. “And thanks to you, we scored a big win with Baby Box.”

“They signed?”

He just grins and gestures for me to follow him. I trail Ezekiel to the basement parking lot. Alistair’s BMW is idling in front of the door.

Bernard is next to the shiny black car. He straightens when he sees me. Warmth explodes from his smile and I feel a bit of my energy returning.

“Miss Jones.” He gives me a subtle thumbs up. “It was an honor to see you in action today.”

I wave away his compliment. “Thank you for your help. We were so understaffed that we pushed you out of your comfort zone.”

“Seeing what you ladies have to put up with certainly gave me a new appreciation for all you do.” He opens the car door for me.

I remain in place.

Ezekiel nudges my side. “You can get in, Kenya.”

“Is this… were you waiting for me?”

He nods.

My eyes bug. Why is Alistair taking me home? Does he want to yell at me in the privacy of his own vehicle?

I almost groan aloud. I’m not in the mood to go toe-to-toe with him. My energy’s depleted and my social reserves are low. As much as I love being around people, my extrovert batteries have been taxed to the limit. If Alistair starts growling at me, I just might explode.

“Miss Jones.” Alistair’s hard voice careens out of the car. It lands on me like a missile. “Get in.”

I want to argue, but both Bernard and Ezekiel are watching me expectantly. I’m choosing to believe they wouldn’t lead me to an Alistair-inspired death. At least, not after the day I’ve had. No one would be that cruel, right?

With a sigh, I climb into the backseat. Bernard closes the door behind me. When Ezekiel gets in, the car moves off.

I close my eyes, enjoying the quiet.

“Ahem,” Alistair mumbles.

I stubbornly keep my eyes closed.

“Ahem.”

“What?”

“Rubifier, a brand we’re working with, gave me this today.”

My eyes burst open and I notice a box with a picture of a giant humidifier sitting in Alistair’s lap.

“My arm is getting tired,” Alistair grumbles.

I accept the box from him and it nearly falls to the ground. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“I already have one,” he says, staring ahead. “It’ll be a waste to throw it out.”

My eyebrows scrunch together.

His gaze darts away from mine. Pointing down, he mumbles, “I got that too.”

“Shoes?” Glee fills me when I see the cheap yellow flip-flops. I eagerly toss the humidifier away.

Alistair catches it with a grunt.

Exuberantly, I kick off my heels and relish the freedom. Die, you evil shoes! I was forced to wear my pumps for hours on end while helping out at the store. My feet are throbbing so hard, it’s like they have their own heartbeat.

I wiggle my toes, happy to see them free and unconstrained. “Are you working with a shoe brand too?”

Alistair remains silent.

I glance up and notice him staring out the window.

“Fine.” I shrug. “Don’t tell me.”

“Stop talking. It’s better for your voice.”

“You telling me not to talk makes me want to talk more.”

“It’s good advice.”

“It’s your advice.”

“You’d disobey me to your own detriment?” One side of his lips quirk up. It’s a shadow of a smirk. And it’s gorgeous on his face.

“Disobedience implies that there’s authority. Right now, you’re not my boss.”

“What am I?”

I yawn. “If I say it out loud, you’ll probably fire me.”

He looks over my face. His eyes are shadowy hazel pools. “Rest your voice, Miss Jones.”

“I’ll think about it.”

His eyes twinkle with amusement.

Mine start to fall closed. The air conditioner is at the perfect temperature and the road is long and dark.

Silence fills the car.

I’m absolutely drained, and the smooth ride is lulling me to sleep.

No, sleep is for the weak.

I fight to keep my eyes open.

Turns out, I fail that battle. When I open my eyes, the car has stopped moving and my head is tucked against a hard slab. Maybe rock? Maybe granite?

Eyes bleary, I nuzzle closer to the rock, wondering why I chose such an uncomfortable pillow. I thought Alistair was rich. Can’t he afford to have more cushion in his car seats?

“Miss Jones,” Alistair rumbles, sounding closer than I thought, “you’re home.”

Horror snaps through me like a crack of lightning. I lurch up, a hand to the corner of my lips as I realize I fell asleep on my evil boss.

Ezekiel and Bernard are up front, sitting as still as mannequins.

Bernard is watching the horizon.

Ezekiel is pretending to be engrossed in his phone.

Both men are acting like they’re giving us privacy.

Embarrassed, I scramble away. “I’m so sorry,” I tell Alistair, panic sucking the oxygen out of my lungs. “I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep.”

His jaw muscles work like they’re playing jump rope.

I narrow my eyes at him. My voice rises in accusation. “Why didn’t you shove my head off?”

“Let’s go.” He thrusts the door open, grabs the humidifier and marches out.

I lurch out of the car and stop him on the sidewalk. “Whoa, where do you think you’re going?”

“To your place.”

My eyes nearly pop out of my face.

“This is heavy.” He lifts the box in his arms. His tone is dry. Like I’m the annoying one who should see the obvious.

“It’s fine.” I try to loop my arm around the box to take it from him.

He holds on stubbornly.

“Alistair.”

“Jones.” He gives me a dark glare.

I try to tug, but Alistair tugs back. And since he’s over six feet with the muscles of a bodybuilder, I’m the one who ends up losing my balance.

My body smashes into his, separated only by the box and a few layers of clothing. His eyes bore into mine, weaving a golden spell. Sunshine. He’s the darkness, but his eyes are the sun. And he’s staring down at me with a gaze so hot I might get sunburn.

Does he know? Is he doing that on purpose? Or is my sleep-deprived mind conjuring things?

“Must everything be a fight with you, Miss Jones?” he growls. But there’s an underlying note in it. Something almost like affection.

That can’t be right.

He hates me.

I hate him.

It’s our boss-employee thing.

I gulp, unable to move away as he leans close. His eyes drop to my lips and my body goes wild in anticipation. It’s a frantic energy that whips through me.

My tongue darts out to skate across my bottom lip.

His eyes sharpen. Like a predator.

“You should know that I only become more determined when I meet resistance.”

“Oh.” The sigh escapes from me, pooling into the space between us. There’s a whole box separating my body from his. I have the sudden urge to knock that humidifier to the ground and plaster myself all over him.

But that’s not okay.

None of this is okay.

I step back before I can give into the urge.

“Uh…” I touch my neck. My wrist. My purse. My gaze skates across the sidewalk. I point over my shoulder. “This way.”

Arguing with him is pointless. The faster I get to Sunny’s apartment, the faster Alistair will leave. And take his confusing presence away from me.

We mount the stairs in silence. He follows soberly, observing the damp carpets and narrow hallways.

Sunny’s apartment is up ahead.

There’s a woman standing in front of it. Tan skin. Straight hair cut to her chin. She’s wearing a long, turquoise dress. It’s flowery and Bohemian. Exactly Felice’s style.

The woman turns and I lurch to a stop. “Felice?”

“Kenya.” My step-mother glides toward me. The movement of her skirt reveals the leather sandals on her feet. Despite her earthy style, her toes and fingers have delicate French manicures.

“What are you doing here?” I’m so shocked I can’t do anything but stare at her.

“I’m here to talk to you.” Her lips are tight. Her brows furrowed. This won’t be a pleasant conversation.

“If it’s about Sasha—”

“It is about Sasha.” She frowns.

Her tone. I don’t like it at all.

“I came to—” Her eyes dart up and she seems to register Alistair’s presence for the first time. “Who is this?”

“No one.”

“Holland Alistair, ma’am,” he says at the same time.

I frown at him.

“Alistair?” Felice tastes the word on her tongue like it’s an expensive gelato. “Where have I heard that before?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I wave her attention away from him. “You can google it later.”

“Google? Oh, yes! You were on the cover of that magazine. One of the tech ones her father likes to read.”

Alistair flashes a charming smile.

He. Freaking. Smiles? I thought his model of robot didn’t come with that feature.

“You must be Miss Jones’s sister.”

My jaw disconnects from my face and rolls over the floor. He knows how to compliment women? Since when? And why is he being sweet to Felice?

“Sister?” Felice blushes like she just won a million bucks. Fingers dancing over her wrinkled face, she giggles. “Oh, I’m far from Kenya’s age.”

“I don’t believe it.” He shakes his head.

Felice laughs, covering her mouth behind her hand like a court lady.

I roll my eyes.

“You remind me of someone I know,” Alistair explains. “She’s beautiful as well. And quite free-spirited.”

“Oh, why thank you.”

I step in front of Alistair before he can stroke Felice’s ego any harder. “He’s my boss and he’s not staying long.” I pull my hair from my left shoulder to my right. “And honestly, I’m exhausted. So it’s nice to see you, but we’ll need to find another time to meet.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Sasha and Drake are having an engagement brunch. It’s not the real engagement party yet. Just a small family gathering.”

My stomach clenches so violently I dig my fingernails into my pants. Is she inviting me to brunch with Sasha and my disgusting ex-boyfriend? As a guest?

“Felice, I’m not interested.”

“Why not?” Her face twists into a disapproving scowl.

I bark out a bitter laugh. She must be out of her mind.

Felice lifts her chin. “I know that you and Sasha have your problems right now but—”

“Problems? Yeah, we’ve got problems, Felice.”

“Kenya.”

“She slept with my boyfriend behind my back and then, two weeks later, I find out they’re getting married!”

Felice’s eyes dart to Alistair. She seems extremely bothered that I’m airing our dirty family laundry. I guess telling outsiders the truth is more scandalous than the fact that my sister got naked with my live-in boyfriend.

“Kenya,” her voice drops to a hiss, “you know how fragile your sister is. Your inability to be the bigger person is a serious threat to her health and happiness. Now, clearly there were some misunderstandings, but it’s nothing we can’t work through as a family.”

My stomach roils.

I’m seriously going to be sick.

“There was no misunderstanding, Felice. I saw them together with my own eyes. Apparently, Sasha likes being on top.”

“Kenya!” The blood drains from her face. She slants another nervous look at Alistair. “You’re clearly not ready to have a civil conversation. Perhaps it would be better for you to skip brunch. We’ll talk again soon.” She forces a smile, trying to exude as much dignity as she can. At least, what’s left of it. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Alistair. Hopefully, we can meet again. I know my husband would love to chat with you. He’s retired and, in his free time, he likes to pretend that he’s a whiz with computers.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Alistair says in that unusually warm tone.

As Felice runs away, I let the silence settle around me. I’m unsteady on my feet, my head is killing me and now I can’t stop thinking about my sister’s impending marriage to my ex-boyfriend.

To make matters worse, my boss now knows everything.

I sigh and extend my hand. “Give the box to me.”

“No.”

“Did I not speak English?”

“You’re speaking just fine.”

“You’ve done your duty. You walked me home. What are you sticking around for?”

He says nothing and just studies me.

My lips press together and flames shoot out of my ears. “Why? Why are you so determined to make my life difficult?”

“Kenya.”

My heart jumps to my throat. It’s the first time I’ve heard him call my name. Gosh, it’s so soft. So loving. It shouldn’t sound so tender. It shouldn’t make tears crop in my eyes.

I’m exhausted and emotionally overwrought.

He can’t see me like this.

This isn’t who I am.

Alistair sets the box on the ground. The next thing I know, his powerful arms are around me. I stiffen in shock.

“It’s okay,” he says, soothing my hair.

It’s wrong, but it feels so comforting. I lay my head on his shoulder. My fingers scramble for purchase over his suit and I curl into him before I really know what I’m doing.

“It’s okay, Kenya,” he says again.

I tilt my face up.

He stares at me, understanding in his eyes.

Is it wrong that I want to hold onto him and forget everything? Felice’s visit. My dad’s silence. Sasha’s expectations. My ex-boyfriend’s betrayal.

Yes, it’s wrong.

But I want to stay here. In his arms. So badly.

He steps back and I want to reach for him. Find the warmth I’d had in his embrace.

Thankfully, I have enough good sense to keep my hands to myself.

Awkwardness seeps under my skin.

What was that?

I struggle to find an explanation. My boss was just taken over by an alien. He did something that was actually… caring. Which completely goes against his stone-cold, screaming vortex for a soul personality.

“Get some sleep. Don’t think about anything else,” he whispers.

And I try.

After Sunny and I wrestle the humidifier into the living room and I fall into bed beside my best friend, I do my best to sleep.

But it doesn’t happen.

Not because I’m thinking about Sasha or Drake or Felice.

But because I’m imagining my boss’s arms wrapping around me. He’s laying a hot, scorching kiss on my lips. Without a shirt on. Or pants.

And no matter how much I toss and turn, I can’t get those dirty images out of my head.

I’m in ‘Avoid Alistair’ mode for the foreseeable future. It’s a task made achievable when he leaves me in the care of the marketing team and gives me free reign with the Belle’s Beauty in-store promotion.

I’m not sure if he’s avoiding me or if he’s finally acknowledging my skills. Either way, I’m glad I don’t have to see him.

I’ve decided to pretend the hug never happened. I only came to that conclusion after hours of hair-pulling. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that was his intention all along. To mess with my head. Drive me up a wall with questions.

What did he mean by it? Why did I let myself break in front of him? What if he thinks I’m trying to flirt with him?

That last fear is the one that drives me crazy. Alistair is hot. And he knows it. The thought that he’ll lump me in with all the other girls who go wild for him makes me sick.

I tap my fingers against my desk and try to calm my rushing thoughts.

“He’s coming.” Whispers flurry around the room. My co-workers share frantic looks and jump into action. They clean their monitors, sweep away trash and pull their chairs to their desks. Fingers clack against keyboards. Pages flip studiously.

I smell the rising stench of evil.

Alistair is on his way.

I open a new document, trying hard not to hyperventilate. The chances of him bothering me are next to nil. He’s left me alone for days.

Please. Please. Please.

A loud set of footsteps pulls me from my prayers. I look up to find none other than the Prince of Boss-holes approaching.

I’m invisible. You can’t see me.

“Miss Jones.” Alistair stops in front of my desk. His shadow falls over me like a dark cloud.

“Mr. Alistair.”

He gestures my way. “Follow me.”

Everyone stares at us. Being singled out by Alistair is never a good thing. Ever.

Am I getting fired?

Without another word, Alistair turns and marches down the hallway. I grab my cell phone and stumble after him.

Shooting a frantic glance at Ezekiel, I mouth, “What’s going on?”

The executive assistant gives me a blank look in return. Wonderful. Whatever this is about, Ezekiel seems to be firmly on Alistair’s side.

“This way,” Alistair says, pointing down the hallway that leads to his office.

I march behind him and stop when he does. He gives me a hard stare and I realize my dreams have been getting it wrong. Alistair’s not capable of gentleness. Maybe my subconscious got the wrong idea because that hug was so tender.

But right now, in real life, I’m getting an emergency refresher course on the real Holland Alistair. His gorgeous face is pure arrogance. He’s a ruthless ice king. Gorgeous and, at the same time, absolutely lethal.

Ezekiel gestures to a door with a flurry of hand movements. “Miss Jones, welcome to your new office.”

“That’s funny, Ezekiel.” I turn on Alistair. “Look, I don’t have time to waste. I’m up to my nose in marketing material for Baby Box. And, thanks to someone, I still have a load of organizing to do for Belle’s Beauty.” I slap a hand on my hip. “Please don’t waste my time.”

Ezekiel looks stunned.

Alistair narrows his eyes. “No one is trying to waste your time, Miss Jones.”

I glare right back at him. Is this really the same man who held me so tightly that night? Whatever. Alistair can keep finding new and unusual ways to torture me. Another day. I really don’t have time right now.

“This room is yours,” he says, jutting his chin at the office.

Slowly, his words sink in.

Ezekiel produces a name plate from behind his back and slides it into the cradle attached to the door.

My name is printed in gold.

‘Kenya Jones. Belle’s Beauty sales manager’.

I blink and blink again, sure that sleep deprivation is finally catching up with me. Maybe I’m still in my best friend’s couch, my arms sprawled out as I drool into the pillow.

“You’re screwing with me,” I whisper.

A corner of Alistair’s mouth hitches up. He’s trying hard to stifle his smile, but it shines through.

“No, we’re not,” Ezekiel says. “Mr. Alistair was watching you closely over the past few weeks to see how you’d perform. All the challenges he threw your way were tests to prepare you for this position.”

My eyes swerve to the office. “No freaking way.” I turn and curl a finger at him. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“You’re not capable of that.”

Ezekiel’s eyes flicker.

I realize I just said my thoughts out loud. To my boss.

Alistair doesn’t look offended though. He seems amused. “Aren’t you the one always lecturing me about saying thank you?”

“Something you still haven’t done yet.”

He leans down. “I thought this gesture would make you a little less prickly.”

“If that’s what you’re going for, you’re going to have to try a lot harder.”

“How much harder?”

“Until I no longer feel like beating your ferns.”

He observes me with a smirk. “Your attitude at work aside, you know how to make sales. And I reward those who push the company forward. This office comes with more responsibilities and a higher pay. Can you handle it?”

“You know I like a challenge.”

“I do.” His eyes simmer with an unspoken promise.

Ezekiel clears his throat. “Should I give her a tour?”

“Yes.” Alistair gestures for us to go ahead. “I’ll be on a conference call. It’ll last a while.” His eyes dart to me. “Do you need a ride to the gathering this evening?”

Flames burn my cheeks. “Uh…”

“Perhaps it would be prudent for me to call Miss Jones a cab instead,” Ezekiel says primly.

Alistair gives him a blistering look.

Ezekiel doesn’t flinch.

They seem to exchange a silent message before Alistair gives in. “Fine. I’ll be in my office.”

I watch him keenly as he walks out.

Is it just me or does Alistair look like he’s… sulking?

“After you,” Ezekiel says, pointing to the door.

I follow him into the office and almost squeal. It’s a nice size with a gorgeous view of the city. There are empty bookshelves, a file cabinet and a fern with a bow on it.

I burst out laughing. “No.”

“He says it’s a real one,” Ezekiel informs me. “And that he’ll charge you if it dies.”

My laughter bounces around the room.

Ezekiel looks pleased.

When I calm down, I turn to him. “Why is he doing this?”

“I can’t speak for Alistair,” Ezekiel says. “But I’ve known him for a long time, so I understand him more than he’d like. He’s earned a reputation of being cruel because he really doesn’t care who you are, who you’re connected to or how many degrees are in your pocket. He values one thing only.” Ezekiel lifts a gnarled finger. “Results. So far, Miss Jones, your work is impeccable.”

“I appreciate that,” I murmur.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Studies me as if he’s struggling to say something.

“Go ahead.” I motion to him. “I kind of already have a feeling of what you want to discuss.”

“I’m sure you do. You’re a very intelligent woman.” He pauses.

“But?” I smirk. “There’s a ‘but’ coming, right?”

“I’d urge you to be careful. Especially now.”

“Careful with what? I haven’t done anything untoward, have I?”

“It feels like we’re not far away from that.”

My cheeks burn. Does he know of the dreams? The ones where I’m crawling over my naked boss?

“I’ll be honest, Miss Jones, I have never seen Alistair treat any of his employees the way he treats you. In fact, I haven’t seen him this way since his wife…” Ezekiel glances aside. “He’s fond of you. And he’s making it more obvious now than before.”

“Fond of me?” What does ‘fond’ mean? He’s attracted to me? He wants to be with me? He just wants to take me to bed?

“You’ve earned his respect. That’s very impressive.” He gestures to my face. “But beating every challenge has taken its toll on you. You drink more cups of coffee a day to keep up. There are bags under your eyes. You look… like you’re slowly coming apart.”

I frown. Do I look that atrocious? Maybe I should take Sunny up on her offer for facial masks.

“Ezekiel, I wish I could blame that all on Alistair, but there are some personal things going on.”

“Even more reason to be careful.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I see the potential in you, Miss Jones. You can go far. With an opportunity like this, you can have whatever you set your mind to.” His voice drops in warning. “But shooting to the top means that there are more people who want to drag you to the bottom. I’m afraid that Alistair softening toward you, paired with your much-deserved rewards, will cause a problem.”

“You think people will assume I’m getting rewarded because he’s screwing me. Is that it?”

His face flushes. “I wouldn’t use that language.”

“It’s the language that gets the point across.” I lean against the desk, my heart beating fast. “I don’t know what you’re imagining, but you’re with me and Alistair almost everywhere we go. There hasn’t been any inappropriate conduct between us.”

At least, not outside of my head.

“I know how to draw the line between personal and business. Maybe I am impressing Alistair with my skills, but I assure you that no one can steal his heart because he doesn’t have one.”

Ezekiel shakes his head slowly. “That’s the thing, Miss Jones. He does.” A worried look crosses his face. “And I’m afraid it’s already in your possession.”

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