Page 191 of The Rebel Billionaire

I stoop and pick up our discarded condom from the floor before making my way into the kitchen, wrapping it in tissue and disposing of it in the bin. I don’t want anyone else knowing our business.

Shit!

I lean my hands on the marble surface and drop my head forward, squeezing my eyes closed as I inhale and exhale.

He comes to stand next to me, his back resting against the unit.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I say, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

Way to go, Harps. Another royal fuck-up.

“What wasn’t a good idea? Sleeping with your boss, getting involved with me?”

I lift my head and turn to face him. His face is guarded.

He swivels towards me.

“Talk to me,” he says.

I move my hands to grip his waist and rest the top of my head against his chest, needing the warmth, the comfort only he seems able to give.

“I’m scared,” I whisper. “As you said yourself, you’re my boss. There’s a fifteen-year age gap between us. They’ll see me as a money-grabbing social climber. The idea of people whispering behind my back… I don’t need or want that.”

He runs a hand over my hair.

“It goes both ways, you know. People could see me as the sad divorcé who’s sleeping with his young nubile PA.”

I know he’s saying it to lighten the mood.

I raise my head and quirk an eyebrow. “Looking like you do, Alex, not a fucking chance. More like the guys in the office will be slapping you on the back.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Well, at least you make me feel young.”

I shake my head as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me firmly against him, the feel of his lips against my hair soothing some of my inner turmoil.

“It’ll be all right. It would not be worth Sue’s job to tell anyone.”

“I know,” I sigh. “But she’s bound to look at me differently.”

“Why?”

“Because of everything we’ve discussed.”

“So, it does bother you?”

I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Explain,” he says.

“It’s just you and me. We know what this is, how it’s grown and how we feel when we’re together. The outside world isn’t privy to that.”

“Who cares what the outside world thinks?”

“I do,” I say, spinning away, knowing my reaction is more than he’s expecting, but I can’t go through this again. The stares, the pointing. Not that I can tell him about any of that. They’d turn something beautiful into something ugly and twisted.