The Sister (The Boss 6)

Chapter Eight

The weekend flew by too fast, and leaving for work Monday morning was more of a bummer than I’d expected.

We sat in the kitchen while Julia cooked breakfast—an amazing French toast bake with bananas and walnuts, with a side of the most incredible turkey sausage on the planet—and lingered over coffee while I waited for my hired car.

It was difficult to keep up appearances in front of Julia, when all Neil, El-Mudad, and I wanted to do was be handsy. For the past two days, we’d been nothing but stupid in love with each other. It was incredible. It wasn’t all between the two of us and El-Mudad, either; something between Neil and I had rebooted, and now, all three of us were somehow caught up in new relationship euphoria, despite having known each other for years.

“So, what will the two of you be up to while I’m gone today?” I asked, leaning against the island. I resolved not to sulk at being excluded if it sounded really fun.

“Neil is taking me to his driving club,” El-Mudad said, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m going to test out the Chiron.”

“Oh, that.” I wrinkled my nose and took a sip of my coffee. The Chiron was a recent purchase Neil had made that I hadn’t cared for. “It looks like an ugly car emerging from the husk of a much better-looking car.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Neil insisted. This was the latest in a series of disagreements on this theme.

“No matter its appearance, I look forward to driving it,” El-Mudad said, nudging Neil with his elbow.

“Okay, well, as long as I know I’m not missing out.” I sipped my coffee then jumped when my phone chimed. “The car is here. I’ll be back around seven.”

“Julia, can you excuse us for a moment?” Neil asked.

“Of course, Mr. Elwood.” She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and left.

“Now, we can say goodbye properly.” Neil got up and came to my side, and El-Mudad similarly stood from his spot at the breakfast table. Neil took the coffee cup from my hand, passed it to El-Mudad, then held my face in both of his hands and kissed me, long and slow.

I smiled against his mouth. “You’re not making it very easy to for me to leave.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. That’s not fair of me.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead then moved aside. El-Mudad slid the coffee onto the island behind me.

“Unfair or not, I won’t miss a chance to kiss you.” His lips brushed against mine, but we weren’t capable of taking things slowly. I opened my mouth under his and threw my arms around his neck. He grabbed my hips and pulled me against him, tight. I lingered for as long as I could dare without everything going way too far then gave his shoulders a gentle push.

He let the kiss end but leaned his forehead against mine. “Have a good day at work.”

I gave him a quick peck on the lips and sidestepped his embrace. “Seriously, you guys. I’m just going to work. I’m not leaving forever.”

Not that it wasn’t an extremely nice send-off. I could definitely get used to starting the day like this.

****

“Who’s the most relaxed employee here this morning?” Deja asked as she knocked on my door.

I couldn’t deny that. My weekend of perfect sex had turned me into Julie Andrews in The Sound of freakin’ Music. I’d breezed into the office and immediately ordered Mel to get a caterer on the phone for lattes and breakfast sandwiches to be delivered for the entire office the next morning. We went over my schedule, and I didn’t roll my eyes once. Amy couldn’t get those skirts from Forever 21 in time for the teen trend shoot on Thursday? Sure, we could reschedule that! Fatima was out with the flu, and now, we were running tragically behind on our “Best, Worst, and Most Ridiculous Fall Trends” story? No big deal, the issue didn’t have to be finalized for two whole weeks. What was a little panicked rushing around when the entire world was so damn good?

“I could really get used to this.” Deja plopped onto the sofa against the wall and kicked her legs up, propping her black Michael Kors stiletto-heeled ankle boots on the arm. “Just don’t let people start taking advantage of your good nature.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have a Steve Harvey-esque ‘do not look Sophie in the eyes’ memo already drafted,” I promised her with a snerk.

“You know you have to give me the details, right?” Deja prompted. Clearly, I had not been forthcoming enough.

I glanced up at the door. There was no logical reason to be nervous; people knocked before entering, and conversations held at a reasonable volume wouldn’t be overheard by accident.

But I wasn’t sure I could keep my voice at a reasonable volume.