The Girlfriend (The Boss 2)

The main floor had a half-bath, a formal reception room, the kitchen and dining room. There was also an elevator, and though Neil hated them, he used it today.

“The holiday took a toll on me, I think,” he said quietly as we rode down to the basement level. “I would hate to postpone Paris—”

“If we have to postpone Paris, we postpone Paris.” We’d been running around so much that missing another whirlwind trip wouldn’t hurt my feelings any. “All I’m really looking forward to there is fucking you, and I can do that just as well here. Oh my god, we could do it in this elevator!”

“I would rather not. I don’t need to combine one of my biggest phobias with my favorite activity.”

We stepped out of the elevator into a short hall. At one end was a utility door, at the other a gold chrome and glass door.

“Laundry,” Neil said, pointing to the plain one. Swinging his finger toward the other, he added, “And pool.”

“You have a pool?” I squeaked. “Inside your house?”

“We have indoor plumbing as well, will that excite you?”

I punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Sorry, some of us grew up with rinky-dink inflatable pools in our back yards.”

“This one isn’t Olympic-sized,” he said in his own defense. “But it is rather nice.”

He was right. Besides the marble-lined pool with its elegant terraced steps, there was a sauna, spa, fully equipped gym, and a lovely area with lounges and towels, surrounded by tall Grecian columns. There was a skylight with frosted glass, and I realized it was ground level.

“I didn’t bring my suit,” I said, disappointment crashing over me.

He looked down at me then nodded back to the water. “You don’t need one. Although, I would so desperately love to see you in a bikini.”

I giggled.

That only egged him on more. “So I could strip it off your body with my teeth.”

“Is there a single room in this house that you haven’t had sex in?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

His smirk gave me the answer before his voice did. “The elevator. But we’ve already discussed that.”

“We’ll just have to make our own memories then, I guess,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him playfully.

The second floor of the house held a large living room in more blues and pale gold, and Neil’s den— a room with a ridiculously large plasma television, dark wood and brown leather furniture, a needlessly complicated surround sound and lighting system, and the faint smell of cigar smoke. There was a snooker table, as well, and he sheepishly explained that sometimes he liked to have a “gents night” and he hoped I wouldn’t be offended.

“I’m not going to demand you give up your whole life to entertain me. I’m going to need my own space to do things, too. Maybe while you’re having a ‘gents night’ I’ll spend all kinds of quality naked time in that hot tub downstairs.” The very thought of relaxing in blissfully hot, churning water curled my toes. I might even do that tonight, though my two-week restriction wasn’t quite up yet.

He backed me into the wall, his hands capturing mine and pinning them beside my head. I laughed and hoped none of the five housekeepers happened along while Neil had me up against a wall with his knee between my thighs. I ground against him with a little whimper, and he bent his head to nibble my neck.

“How would I be able to enjoy myself with my friends if all I can think about is you, naked and wet downstairs?” he murmured against my skin.

I pushed him away and got my breath. “Okay. I’ll wear my froggy pjs and read a book then.”

His office was on the second floor, too, adjoining the library. Though there was nothing remarkable about the library— not after I’d seen the one at Langhurst Court— I was pretty surprised by his office. I’d expected it to be neat, controlled and organized. Instead, it looked like an accountant’s office on April 12th. Papers spilled from the desk and onto the floor, and the stacks of folders nearly as tall as the iMac on the desktop seemed far too structurally unsound to support themselves.

“Holy shit, don’t you have a secretary?” I gasped, staring around the too-bright room with its butter-yellow walls.

“I have a personal assistant, but he works out of the company office at Canary Warf, I don’t make him come here.” Neil quickly closed the door, cutting off my view. “I hate the color in there. Elizabeth said it would be calming, but all I can think of is cake. I do as little work as possible in there, throw everything on the floor, and run.”

A kernel of a plan began to form in my mind. If he was okay with me redecorating the house, maybe he would let me redecorate his office. Or at least clean it. I had the time on my hands, and I had been his assistant before. Maybe he could pay me hourly until Fax Mountain had been successfully leveled.