Mr. Hot Boss To Go (A Forbidden Romance)

My stomach hurts and the higher the elevator climbs, the more I feel like I was going to vomit all over the place. It’s strange because I’m very attracted to the stranger, and yet he’s holding a knife to my throat too. Who is this man anyways? Tears pricked my eyes as I swallowed hard, trying to keep my wits about me.

Be willing to beg, I tell myself as the elevator opens. Then I realize that the lift has stopped at the top floor. Hmm, that’s strange because only executives have offices on the top floor. Oh shit! Of course he’s an exec, the voice in my head growls. Normal managers don’t wear fancy suits!

When we get off, a middle-aged woman behind the reception desk greets us immediately.

“Hello, Mr. Crane,” she says, giving me a sharp look. “Welcome back.” She’s dressed in a beautifully tailored suit with her silvering brown hair pulled back into a bun, but all I hear is the name.

“Mr. Crane?” I repeat, my eyes wide as my insides quiver. I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me and there’s no longer any oxygen in my lungs. I would have fallen over if Mr. Crane himself hadn’t reached out and grabbed me.

“Steady there,” he said, smiling as he helped me maintain my balance. I took a deep breath. Get with it! the voice in my head screams. You can’t be fainting if this is Mr. Crane himself!

With a weak smile, I managed to right myself.

“Thanks, I got it,” I say. The handsome CEO shoots me an amused grin and then leads me into his office. Meanwhile, my mind’s going at sixty m.p.h. Okay, let’s analyze this situation. I got caught stealing a sugar substitute by the CEO of Crane Technologies. Not only that, but he caught me on camera, and now he wants to talk about it in his office. Speaking of which, the space I’ve entered is utterly lavish and takes up nearly the whole top floor. Floor to ceiling windows look out over Manhattan for a breathtaking view, and I can imagine how insane the cityscape must be at night.

The handsome man shuts the door with another amused grin.

“Welcome to my lair,” he drawls. “I’m Rowan Crane,” he says, gesturing for me to sit down in the chair in front of a massive oak desk.

I swallow hard.

“Rowan, I mean, Mr. Crane… I’m so sorry. I apologize. I shouldn’t have taken the sugar. The sugar substitute, I mean. I know it was wrong and my excuse was a terrible one. I don’t know what got into me but please, please, please—"

The handsome man merely takes a seat in his chair, looking utterly relaxed.

“So you know who I am now?” he interrupted me.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you know that I own Crane Technologies and if you’re stealing from the company, then you’re basically stealing from me. Personally. Everything here belongs to me,” he says, gesturing to the office with one hand. “Every chair, every desk, every laptop, and yes, even the sugar substitute in the kitchen.”

My head spins. How do I get out of this? I can’t lose my job and a stain on my resume would be like death. Maybe I can pretend that I never worked here, but the problem is that Mr. Crane’s influence probably runs far. Even though NYC is a big city, it’s a small city in other ways and I have no doubt that Rowan Crane will find some way to punish me for what I’ve done.

Yet I’d already apologized and offered to put the sugar back. Hell, I even offered to bring a replacement tomorrow! What else can I possibly do? Surely, he must have some compassion for a starving student out of options.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, looking down while avoiding his eyes. “I apologize. It was a poor decision and I’ll do better in the future, I promise.”

The handsome man merely leans back in his chair, one hand flicking a pen as if he’s amused.

“Tell me, Natalie. If you were me, what would you do? How would you handle an intern who’s trying to make their way into the business world, but who also has the audacity to steal from you? It’s quite a conundrum, isn’t it?”

His words were sharp and tone firm. I couldn’t look at him as my cheeks heated up like an inferno. This man clearly hates me and is dragging out the encounter in order to fire me with relish. Fine, just get it over with then. After all, I’m done for. Meanwhile, Rowan continues.

“What were you thinking?” he asked. “I mean who does that?”

“I’m really sorry,” I try again in a desperate rush. “I don’t know what I was thinking, and it was just a momentary lapse of judgment. Please, Mr. Crane. I’ll do anything. I don’t want to be fired, so just let me know how I can make it up to you.”