Arrogant Boss

Julian laughed. “If only I’d known that from the start! I would have talked about nothing else. I would have been in your office all day and bored you to death.”

His hand was warm on mine, and our knees touched under the table. We’d finished eating, and our glasses were long since empty.

Be brave, Emily.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I told him. “I want to spend more time with you.”

His eyes were dark and calm, but I felt the energy radiating off him. It always had, as if he vibrated at a slightly higher frequency than everyone else. “Alright. Let me just settle the bill.”

“We’re splitting it.”

Julian laughed, actually laughed. “We most certainly won’t. Besides, this is a work trip. If it makes you feel better, consider this a part of a per diem.”

We were silent as he paid, the still overly attentive waitress fluttering her lashes. This time I took a tiny step closer to him and slipped my hand under his arm.

Julian rewarded me with a soft smile at my open display of affection, a smile I was growing increasingly fond of. It felt secret. Something he didn’t show to the stage or the crowds of adoring fans.

We walked in silence towards the elevators. I felt electric, the air between us humming with things unsaid and promises unfulfilled. The voice in my head refused to stop ranting.

He smelled fantastic.

How do I initiate this?

Why hasn’t he initiated it?

It would be so extremely awkward if he turned me down, I realized as the elevators closed behind us. Again. How could I show up to work after that?

But why would he? I knew he was attracted to me, even if he’d always been respectful about it.

Julian’s hand skimmed across my waist as he reached to press the elevator button. “You have to actually tell these things where you want to go.” His voice was husky, sending goosebumps across my skin.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Whoops,” I murmured.

The corridor on our floor stretched out before us, wide and empty. I knew we’d reach my room before his-I’d already spied the number on our booking sheet. Yeah. I’m just stalkerish like that.

We walked in silence to my door.

“This is me,” I said and waved to room 802. “Home sweet home.”

Julian smiled. “I had a really nice time tonight. Thanks for dinner.”

I nodded.

808, that was his room number. Turner once told me that eight was a lucky number in China, that people paid premium money for phone numbers with lots of eights in them. I’d never been superstitious, but I suddenly clung to the fact. His hotel room was lucky. What could go wrong, Emily?

Julian opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “Do you have a minibar?”

He nodded slowly. “I do.”

“How about a round of Never Have I Ever at yours?” I leaned against my hotel door. “I’m not tired quite yet.”

Julian’s swallow was audible. “Good idea. I’m in 808.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just let me freshen up.”

His gaze didn’t leave me as I opened the door and slipped inside. Hunger. That was what I had seen in them. It made me brave, made me giddy with nervous anticipation and triumph.

Alert the press-somehow, this was going according to plan. I pushed my hair back and took a good look in the bathroom mirror. I was wearing the same makeup I’d applied at 7AM that morning, my formerly pristine blouse wrinkled every which way, and my hair was, to put it in mild terms, a mess.

Okay, Emily. Think.

I stripped down, tied my long hair up and hopped in the shower. I scrubbed away grime and quickly shaved my legs. I brushed my teeth. I moisturized everywhere and ran a brush through my hair. When finished, I saw a somewhat wild-eyed but put-together woman in the mirror. Dark hair hung shiny down my shoulders, and the soft cashmere sweater I’d put on hugged my chest. Sure, I wasn’t a model or an actress, but I looked pretty good. I felt sexy and clean.

Deep breaths.

The door to my hotel room shut with an audible, ominous click, and I walked down the corridor to his room with my shoulders back, rehearsing the plan. Have a drink first. Have sex second. Easy enough.

The numbers on his hotel door stood out with large, gold-plated numbers. “Wish me luck, guys,” I murmured to the eights and knocked.

Julian opened his hotel door almost immediately. For a long moment, all we did was look at one another.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi.”

He’d taken off his suit jacket, white shirtsleeves rolled up. His hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it. Slowly, his eyes raked down my newly changed attire, my throat going dry.

“Um, are you going to let me in, or…?”

Julian winked. “My bad.”

His room was larger than mine and Rachel’s, though only by a little. A massive king-sized bed dominated the center and I forced my eyes not to linger on it, or my mind to psych myself out at the thought of what might come next.

By the large windows was a small seating area. A cart from room service stood next to it, complete with an icy wine cooler. I ran a hand over it, small water drops chilling my fingers. “What’s this?”

Julian grinned and watched me peruse the different drink options on display. “You said you wanted to avoid alcohol for all eternity, and I’m nothing if not supportive. So I ordered an assortment of non-alcoholic drinks for us.”

There were ice-cold bottles of Coke, Pepsi, Fanta, fresh-pressed orange juice, Shirley Temples and what looked like virgin daiquiris. I grabbed one of them, a red and sloshy drink with a tiny umbrella.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding as if I had spoken. “That was the drink I figured you’d choose.”

“I’m that predictable, huh?”

“Sometimes.”

I bit my lip and kept my gaze on his. With calculated movements, I left the seating area and took a seat on his bed. A hand behind me, I leaned back and watched him. Not so predictable now, Hunt.

His gaze had darkened as he followed my movements. With a quick move, he opened a can of soda. “What did you want to play again?”