Not after discovering that the other apartment on my floor houses a spicy brunette with a gorgeous face and an even more gorgeous ass?—
“Boss?”
I blink, realize my door is open…and that my assistant is waiting for my answer.
“I’ll pack a bag,” I mutter. “And meet you at the airport in an hour.”
Five
Marie
It’s beena week since the unfortunate run-in with Jace and the Lyft.
SinceIcreated the unfortunate run-in, that is.
But it’s been a long week—one filled with my job as the executive vice president of Titan Capital and pretty much nothing else. Because Titan Capital is under attack.
By my boss’s pernicious ex-wife.
Angela Rosseau is a piece of work, a pain in the ass, and a complete and total bitch, all wrapped up in one shiny package.
And she’s been targeting Jean-Michel’s, said boss’s, businesses.
First, it was dropping multiple lawsuits onto his lap. Then it was showing up at his house—and his daughter, Chrissy’s, house—spreading her witchliness around in the form of planting cameras and microphones for some idiotic reason. Now it’s…deeper. Preying on our employees, being investigated by the FBI for having ties to an organized crime ring that is accused of kidnapping and human trafficking, and less scarily, trying to undercut our business connections.
Which means more work for Jean-Michel.
Whichmeansmore work forme.
Something I normally love.
Work is my love language—it’s the part of my life that’s given me the most peace and satisfaction and strength.
Jean-Michel is a tough boss, outwardly grouchy and hard to please.
But he’s fair and safe and…a giant teddy bear under all that bluster.
My fairy godfather—a nickname I didn’t dare to give him…but also a nickname I’ve found myself using, mainly because Chrissy and his unofficially adopted daughter, Rory, tease him with it on the regular.
And also because…heisthat for me.
It’s a tale as old as time.
Bad parents. Bad boyfriend.
A grumpy, taciturn boss with a heart of gold who rides in to save the day.
Now, I’m out of company housing, out of my asshole of a boyfriend’s crosshairs, and I’m living on my own.
Down the hall from Jace Henderson.
Who’s as talkative as Jean-Michel isn’t and who seems to enjoy pushing my buttons, if our short interaction is indicative of his personality.
And my gut tells me it is.
Tells me that Jace Henderson is trouble with that sexy, muscled body, that beautiful face, that smirk I wanted to smack—or maybe kiss—off his face, all wrapped up in a gorgeous package that seems destined to tempt.
Not me.
