Now she is somewhere in New York, unprotected and...not in my arms.
Not in my bed.
I don’t fucking like it.
I push back my chair and stand, restless.Walking to the window, I glance down at the city.
Where are you Emily?
What if I did marry her?Jesus, I’ve known her less than a month.I met her on a damn flight and...well, we know what happened then.Not exactly the story we will tell our kids.
Or my parents.
Certainly not her fucking father.
I need her back home.Every inch of my penthouse smells like her.Except her pillow.I had to wash it and that made me irrationally angry.
Last week I found a hair tie she left behind, and it only occurred to me this morning that I’ve been sleeping with it beside the bed every night like it’s some kind of comfort teddy bear.
What is wrong with me?
So, yeah, I might be bloody in love with her and that.
Was.
Not.
The.
Fucking.
Plan.
I slide my hand through the front of my hair and tug it.Then my phone rings.I round my desk in a hurry, and when I see Mason’s name, I click answer.Sitting, his face appears.
“New look?”He grins.
“What?”I glance at my small image in the corner, then pat down my hair.“I was pulling my hair out waiting for you to call.Miss you.”
“You’re a dick.”Mason snorts.
I smother my grin.“How did it go?”
“It was interesting,” Mason replies slowly.
My eyes narrow.“What do you mean, interesting?”
What could’ve gone wrong?
It was a job interview.I can’t imagine her doing anything strange orinteresting.
“Emily’s a high-quality personal assistant.What the hell does interesting mean?Give her the damn job.”I can hear the defensive tone in my voice, but I also don’t care.
“Settle down, Romeo.”Mason laughs.“She interviewed very well.”
I relax, ignoring his taunt.
“But wedohave a problem.I need someone to start immediately, and Emily doesn’t know our software sys—”
