Page 22 of Dirty Boss

Then at the restaurant, we’d been slammed from the moment the doors opened, and the kitchen had run behind. Customers were irate, and I’d gotten the brunt of their anger. I’d clung to my cheery, dumbed-down waitress persona with the force of my will, but when the fifth person complained that their food had taken too long and that I must be the worst server they’d ever had, I nearly lost it.

Was it worth going back to my family on my knees? Was it worth the groveling I’d have to do for the rest of my life if I did?

No.

I wouldn’t be sold off to some other man in a pseudo-business deal. I wouldn’t let my family push me into a marriage because that’s what worked for them. I wouldn’t get on my knees and beg for their protection after what they’d said and done to me.

Now that I’d spent some time away from that world, it was too easy to see how vapid and soulless it really was. What if I met another James and fell in love, only to discover that he was after my family’s money again? What if Ididn’tmeet another James, and I lived my life in a gilded cage, feeling nothing but bitterness?

It wasn’t worth the risk. At least here, sweating through my uniform and praying for the end of my shift, I had integrity. For once, I was proud of the person I was becoming.

Now it was just after noon, and things weren’t looking like they’d slow down anytime soon—but an old lady had given me a sympathetic smile and a fifty percent tip, and that had given me the energy to keep going a little bit longer.

I was aching and stressed and I’d just realized that I forgot to put deodorant on that morning—and then I saw him. At first, all I saw was a vision in a perfectly tailored suit. Silhouetted by the light behind him, he was broad-shouldered, sharp-jawed, all male confidence with a cocky smirk.

Then the smirk registered, and I stumbled.

Vaughn spread his arms when he saw me. “Better?”

“Um,” I said, catching myself against the hostess’s stand. “Yes.”

He twirled for me, slowly, so I could see every perfect seam on his suit and admire the sharp-as-a-blade line of his haircut against his neck. He lookedamazing. He looked like he had money and time and could get anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers.

My heart thumped as he spun back around to grin at me, blue eyes twinkling in the warm light of the dining room. I gripped the hostess’s stand a bit harder to keep my balance. He smoothed the lapels of his jacket, and my gaze snagged on his hands. They were big, with prominent knuckles and long fingers, tendons and veins pushing against his skin as he adjusted the quality fabric of his suit. Small scars crisscrossed his fingers, his palms like he’d spent years working with his hands and had the wounds to show for it.

A man’s hands. The kind I’d love to see gripping my thighs, spreading them open. I blinked away the image and focused on the man before me.

Vaughn was gorgeous.

I’d known he was an attractive man, obviously. From the moment I’d seen him the first time, I could tell he washandsome. But dressed like he was, there was no denying it. He was otherworldly. He could walk into any room and turn heads. He would have women and men staring, and if he played his cards right, he could get them to do anything for him.

Finding an investor would be a breeze if he acted like he belonged in the clothes he now wore.

“It’s wool,” he said, extending his sleeve toward me.

I let out a laugh that sounded a little high-pitched. “I can see that,” I replied, and reached over to feel the fine fabric between my fingers. The lining was silk, and it teased my fingertips. The wool was buttery-soft, its weave perfectly uniform. The shoulders sat at just the right position on his frame, and the jacket showed off his trim waist.

Suddenly my throat was tight. Vaughn stood in front of me, broad and handsome and smiling, and I felt very small. The weight of his gaze made me want to crumple.

I wasn’t the kind of woman who stood beside a man like that. Not anymore. Maybe in my previous life, I could’ve wrapped a hand around his elbow and entered the rooms he was sure to be invited into. The galas and charity balls, the boardrooms and private dining affairs. The private jets and secluded beachfront properties.

Now I belonged nowhere near any of those places. I belonged right here, sweating through my work uniform, wondering if it was worth selling my soul to get a bit of comfort back.

“Did you come here to show off?” I asked, recovering myself and taking a small step back.

He looked almost sheepish when he pulled a tie out of his jacket pocket. “Actually…”

I crossed my arms and popped a brow.

He flashed that grin at me again. The wicked, teasing one. His beard had been shaped to emphasize the strength of his jaw, and somehow it made his eyes seem more piercing. Myknees wobbled a little. “You said my tie-tying skills weren’t up to scratch, so I was hoping you could help me out.”

“You came to my workplace in the middle of my shift so I could tie your tie?”

He shrugged, unfurling the tie and letting it dangle between us. An invitation. A trap.

The smart thing to do was to stay away from him. He was a reminder of everything I hated—the luxurious, expensive world that had thrown me out. But I’d discovered, over these past fourteen months, that I wasn’t exactly as smart as I’d once thought. All it took was one handsome man’s attention to lure me back in.

I took the tie between my fingers and was unsurprised to find it was made from the softest silk. Squinting up at him, I felt the need to put up walls between us. “You realize we aren’t friends, right?”