The Boss hole (An Enemies To Lovers Romance)

“It’s just that my father used to work for Coleton,” I said. My insides twisted as I prepared to tell a half-truth to get myself out of this. I needed time to think. To plan. At the very least I needed to run this by the guys and my sister. They were all tangled in this mess with me and had invested a great deal of time and effort. It wasn’t my call to make on my own.

“Oh,” she said.

“And,” I added, when I could tell she was still wondering what more there was. “It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but it didn’t end well for him. He, uh, got let go unexpectedly.” Understatement of the fucking century, right there. “And I always wanted to get a job here, kind of for the symbolic reasons?”

Jules scrunched up her face, smiling, but looking confused. She clearly didn’t want to hurt my feelings, but thought my explanation made little sense. “That’s sweet of you.”

“Yeah. Don’t tell anybody. I’ve got a reputation to keep up.”

She motioned zipping her lips. “I won’t tell anybody about that anaconda you keep hidden in your slacks or that their grumpy boss has a sweet and tender side. Promise.”

I chuckled. “Good. I heard several emails come in while I was fucking you.” I waited, watching her as she planted her fists on her hips.

“I’m not going to abuse this, but seriously? Can I at least get a ‘please’ when nobody is watching?”

“Go clear out my inbox and make sure Mr. Halladay is still free this afternoon for our meeting. Please,” I added.

She smiled, clearly pleased with herself. “See? Feels kinda good once you do it, doesn’t it?”

“No,” I said. “It feels strange.”

Jules rolled her eyes. “Well, get used to it. At least when the door is shut.” She winked. “How’s my hair?”

I stepped closer, smirking. “You look like you just got fucked. Here,” I ran my fingertips carefully through her hair, trying to tackle the worst of it. She’d had it in a ponytail, but I’d pulled most of it loose. I took off her hairband and let her hair down, then fluffed it with my hands, quietly enjoying the silky feel and smell of her hair.

She stood stock still, watching me with amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Enjoying yourself?”

I cleared my throat, then patted down a place where her hair was bulging out. “You look good enough, now.”

“That’s all?”

I bent until my lips were beside her ear. “You look good enough that if you don’t leave and get back to work soon, I’m going to be fixing your hair again.”

She bit back a smile. “I probably should get to work, then. My boss can be the most demanding asshole when I don’t stay on top of things.”

When she turned, I saw her blouse was halfway tucked into the back of her skirt. I reached out, pulling it free but accidentally spinning her to face me in the process. She looked like she was begging for a kiss with her cheeks flushed and her lips parted like that. But all I could think about was who she was.

Russ Coleton’s daughter. The daughter of a man I’d once sworn to ruin, no matter the cost.

But I don’t think I understood how high the price could climb. I didn’t feel like I deserved to kiss her with the thoughts swirling in my head, so I playfully slid my thumb down her lower lip, then opened the door for her. “Get to work. Please,” I added sarcastically.

“He can be trained,” she sing-songed just before walking out of my office with a newfound spring in her step.

I walked back to my desk and noticed her arousal-soaked panties still on the floor there. I picked them up. She was out there with no panties on with my cum still deep inside her.

Suddenly I was hard again and wishing I hadn’t let her go so fast.

But I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do now that I knew who she was.

20

Jules

I hummed to myself while I set up Adrian’s calendar for the day. “Adrian Terranova,” I muttered under my breath. I had to admit it was a much more fitting name for him than Adrian White.

I popped up from my chair and went to the breakroom. I’d been so focused on surviving that I had been taking my lunch at my desk. The breakroom was a hub of activity during the lunch hour, and I’d seen enough dirty looks from my colleagues to guess I wouldn’t be entirely welcome there. I felt socially stunted when it came to this sort of thing.

When I was Juliette Coleton, I never met somebody who didn’t want to butter me up and become best friends. I’d needed an entirely different skill set to survive. I had to figure out who was genuinely interested in being my friend and who was looking to use me. The fact that none of my “friends” had made a serious effort to reach out and connect told me all I needed to know. Yes, I’d dropped off the grid, but I was still screening calls and texts on my old phone. I’d told them I was on a little vacation, and they’d all been happy to accept that and forget I ever existed, apparently.