Perfect Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

“I don’t know, but I don’t want people to think I’m—er, sleeping with my boss,” I whisper. “Because obviously I’m not—not in a million years.”

My legs shift together as I say it.

Yeah, I wouldn’t believe me either.

He takes my hand and hooks his fingers through mine. “If there are rumors, I’ll deal with them. If they’re coming from outside the office, I’ll ram a lawsuit right down Osprey’s throat. You only win if it isn’t true, and I will win. I don’t want to harm your reputation either, but it makes the most sense. Your safety and Millie’s outweighs my drama.”

“We’ve been okay at my place,” I say, my eyes drifting over him.

He’s cut like a statue, especially when he’s all growly and overprotective. Those shoulders, those abs, those pistons for hips.

I have zero doubt that Nick Brandt is an absolute beast behind that suit, and it’s shameful that I’m worried I’ll never have a chance to find out.

“The idiot said he was out of town. Who knows what’s true, but now that you’re on his radar—you need a safer place to crash,” he insists.

Maybe he’s right. Even if he isn’t, good luck saying no to those molten green eyes.

Also, I have a promise to keep. I swore I wouldn’t let Frisk get Millie.

The only person protecting this kid is me, and my enigma of a boss. Until Abby gets back to being a mom, the choices I make have to be for Millie first, and they have to keep her secure.

“Okay, you win,” I say.

“Should we swing by your place and get clothes first?”

“It’s just one night, right? We can change clothes before work in the morning.”

“Might need multiple nights. I want to keep you close until Will winds up in jail or gets launched into the sun. Whatever they’re doing to incinerate trash these days.”

I snicker.

“That could take a while. And it must be pretty tough getting one of those rockets to the sun, knowing your woes,” I whisper.

“You mean Roland. Forget him.” His eyes twitch with irritation.

“Well, and Carmen.” Why do I say it out loud? Her existence annoys me to no end when it’s none of my business.

“Let’s go get your clothes,” he says, ignoring the fact that I named his ex.

Oof. I don’t even know what to make of that, but my boss’ love life really is none of my business, right? Right?

It doesn’t take long to get to my apartment. He parks in front of my door, outclassing every car in the lot.

“You should probably wait,” I say nervously. “Um, if we’re up there for more than ten minutes, your car might get picked apart and sold for parts when we get back.”

He throws his head back and laughs.

God, that glorious smile turns me into a puddle.

“I’m only partly joking,” I warn, wagging a finger.

“You’ve parked the Lincoln here before, haven’t you?”

“Rarely. I try to park down the street at a private garage if I’m in the area for a while with the company car. I pay for the parking. It’s cheaper than replacing a whole town car.”

“I should’ve abducted you a long time ago,” he grumbles.

I undo my seatbelt and open the car door. “Can Millie stay with you? It’ll be easier if—”

“Millie, you want to hang out in the car with me?” He says before I can finish, turning around to face her.

“Can we play music?” Millie asks, her eyes wide.

“Yep. Satellite radio’s got everything from Italian opera to the Disney station, and I know your pick.” He picks up his phone and fidgets with it. “You should go. Millie and I are jamming.”

I burst out laughing, shaking my head as I get out while the music starts.

What is happening to my life?

Millie never knew Nick until recently, yet she’s smiling every time he shows up. She’s fallen hard and fast and...ugh.

So have I.

I try to fight back the butterflies while I collect our things in a couple suitcases and run back downstairs. When Nick steps out to put the bags in the trunk, Millie squeals after him.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, minus you interrupting her groove. I think you can make it up to her if you join in the next singalong,” he says, smiling with his eyes.

I don’t know whether to be mortified or delighted that my boss wants to hear me sing to a four-year-old. Either way, I don’t resist when I’m back in the car, and we jam half the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack all the way to his place.

* * *

Nick’s penthouse still paralyzes me with its perfection.

No, it doesn’t matter that this is my second visit.

“Your place is a palace,” I whisper, inhaling whatever it is that makes it smell so good here. I realize a second later that something is him.

Yikes.

“You complimented it enough the last time you were here,” he says.