Can't Touch: A Boss Romance

As I gather my briefcase and other things, I hear voices in the hall. It sounds like Meynard, the bastard. I wish that Chianna wasn’t his niece. It would make things easier. And it would also explain how they seem so different. Meynard is a scheming snake. Chianna seems like anything but. Her face is so easy to read that it might as well be an open book.

I step out into the hallway, and it is him. With Chianna. Just like last night, she’s loaded down with office supplies. Two boxes stacked perilously on top of each other, and the bulletin board tucked beneath her arm—though it looks like that might drop at any moment.

Meynard holds nothing but his briefcase in his hands, and he strides down the hallway in front of her like she’s a pack animal. I have to take a few breaths to temper my rage. The way he treats her is so dismissive. I’ve only seen a couple of interactions and it’s all been the same. Why does he think that he can do that?

“Here,” I say, jogging to catch up with her down the hallway. “Let me help you.”

Fuck, I startled her. Chianna nearly drops one of the boxes when she hears my voice, and Meynard turns with a sneer. “You don’t have to help her. She’s got it.”

“I’m sure she does have it,” I say. “That doesn’t mean that she should have to.”

Her face flushes, but this time it doesn’t feel right. It’s not a good flush. It’s one of embarrassment. Did I do the wrong thing here? Too late now, I guess. Taking the top box from her, I see the relief in her eyes, even if she is embarrassed. “We’re going the same direction anyway, right?”

“Right,” she says softly.

The three of us in the elevator is the most tension that I’ve experienced in a long time. Faded music hums in the background, and I’m aware of every inch of the woman standing in front of me. And it seems like Meynard is aware of every inch of me, given the hatred that’s rolling off him in waves.

The lobby is empty, and Chianna hurries to the door. Meynard doesn’t even bother to open it for her as she struggles to push through with her things.

“Our car is there,” he says to me as we exit the building. “Now give her the box.”

I smile at Chianna as I place the box back precariously on top of the first one. She doesn’t smile back. She power walks away from me toward the car. She’s practically on the verge of running. It’s a fight to hide my smile. She’s completely unaware of how good that makes her ass look, and I’m totally fine with watching.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Canterbar,” Meynard says in a low voice, stepping into my space. “But knock it the fuck off.”

Meeting his eyes, I stare at him evenly. “I’m not doing anything, Meynard. And if me offering to help someone carry their things is anything more than common human decency to you, I don’t know what to tell you. Except maybe you should keep your eyes to yourself and find some of that same decency. Especially for a member of your own family. Who’s living in your house.”

Meynard’s eyes narrow, and he looks at me like he can unveil all my secrets by focusing his own personal laser beams on me. Lucky for me, I have an excellent poker face.

He stalks away from me toward the car, but he doesn’t get into it without looking back at me first with another glare. This time I smile. He’ll never know just how much he gets under my skin. I don’t need to give him that kind of weapon.

I keep the smile plastered on my face until the car disappears down the block. Then I call my own car. The decision settles in me before I even realize that I’ve made it. No matter what happens between me and Chianna—and I plan on a lot happening—I’m going to help her.

It doesn’t matter that she’s Meynard’s niece or the fact that he got the job for her. She obviously said yes to the job to get some work experience. Not be an office temp doing kindergarten crafts for her uncle. That’s not fair to her on any level.

So aside from educating her in all the ways that I can make her scream, I’m going to do everything that I can do to help her nail this internship. And after that? I’ll help her get whatever job she wants. Whether or not it’s with me.

Sliding into the backseat of my car, I subtly adjust my pants. I can only hope that in the process I can convince her that, at least on a personal level, she belongs with me. Because deep down I know that she’s mine.