“Listen,” he barks. “Your wife being in labor has nothing to do with your work. In fact, while your wife is working to expel a baby from her body, you’re sitting on the chair arguing with your boss when you could use this time to deliver the numbers the boss asked for so that he won’t fire you just when you need a paycheck the most. In twenty-five minutes, the table will get updated either by me or you. If by me, then I don’t need your services, and I’ll bill you for the time I took to deliver this pep talk.”
Before he hangs up, I place a gentle hand on his forearm.
Alessio lifts an eyebrow. “Hold on, Lake has something to say.”
I whisper in Alessio’s ear, “Ask him where you can send flowers for his wife.”
Alessio nods. “Leave the hospital address with Val.” He tsks. “No. Wait. Not with Val…just…” He looks around.
I grab the pen and paper and jot down an address in France. France. I’ve never been, but it’s on my bucket list.
When the man hangs up, Alessio squeezes my hip and pulls me up on his lap. My bottom presses against his erection, and he smiles when my cheeks heat up.
“Emotional support pet?” I ask.
“You fit on my lap,” he explains.
I shrug. “Works in my favor, actually, because emotional support pets didn’t work on the ark. You can be the modern Noah all you like while I take my day off. Let me know when the ark is done so I can walk in and plop onto whichever cot you built for me.”
Alessio throws back his head and laughs. He lifts me up by my bottom, then rises and starts removing his cuff links.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“For a stroll on the beach.”
“Take Leo with you.”
Oh no.
SIXTEEN
LIFT YOUR MOOD
Lake
“Alessio,” I say, “I was hoping to take my day off.”
He frowns as if genuinely confused. “Only two minutes ago, I wasted a fraction of the phone call educating one of my best employees about working either with me or for me. I thought you paid attention.”
“I did. Which is why I joked about being a pet and you being Noah. He works while his pet sits around or strolls up and down the beach. See?”
Smiling, he uncuffs his dress shirt and throws the cuff links into a deep green ceramic bowl on the desk. “You’re very cute, Ms. Wilder. You’re even cuter when you say no to me.”
The phone rings again, and an unknown number appears on the screen. Alessio holds the phone between his shoulder and ear, while he rolls up his sleeves. Instinctively, I want to help, so I take over with the sleeve and start rolling it up.
A mistake.
A huge one given my undeniable fetish for men’s forearms, the ones with corded muscles I can stare at as they flex and relax. Yeah, well, Alessio is a poster boy for gorgeous forearms.
“One of those luxury watch brands should hire you for a commercial,” I mumble while he’s on the phone. “I can see you on the billboard, dressed in a black suit over a black shirt with a million-dollar watch on your wrist.”
He’s engrossed in the conversation in French, so he’s not listening to my mumbling. Once done with the left sleeve, I slowly fold the right one, and while he’s still distracted on the phone, I take the liberty of grabbing his forearms with both my hands. I squeeze tightly, so tightly that it leaves nail marks when I release him and step back.
Oh no, what did I do? I’m shocked. Yet, I couldn’t resist. I had to squeeze his forearms.
Alessio hangs up and looks down his nose at the half-moon nail marks on his skin. “Pet, are you marking me?”
I better own up to what I did, or I’ll give away how attractive I think this man is. “Maybe,” I say flirtatiously.
