Page 32 of Coming for Her Grumpy Boss

chapter

eleven

Ford

Mia sleeps and I stay right there with her nestled against my chest. She said she loves me too. I kind of ambushed her with this fake relationship, oh, and by the way, I want you and love you. Maybe she hasn’t had time to properly think about everything like I have.

“I can hear you thinking inside my dreams,” she says.

“Pretty sure that means you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Much better. But I realized that with all the Natasha drama and the subsequent migraine, you never told me what happened to your family. Are they really not coming?” she asks.

“They’re not coming. All of it was a ruse,” I say.

“I’m so confused,” she admits.

“Here, maybe this will help.” I pull out my phone and hit the call button.

He picks up on the first ring. “Happy Christmas, you two.”

“You told my family not to come.”

“I told your family,” he says, maddeningly calm, “that you were finally doing something brave and they could express their love by not interrupting.”

“Wait, does that mean there was never a reason for the fake relationship?”

“You manipulated the entire plan?” Mia asks.

“Mia, darling, you look gorgeous,” Thorne coos.

“You can’t even see her, you asshat. This isn’t a video call,” I say.

“I can just tell she’s glowing,” Thorne says.

“You can keep your eyes and your compliments to yourself from now on,” I grit.

“Finally staking your claim, are you?” Thorne asks. “You can thank me whenever you’re ready. I enjoy fruit baskets, but prefer chocolate.”

Mia giggles.

“You tricked us,” I say.

“I did. But you won’t be cross with me for too long. Especially since it sounds like the two of you are cozied up next to each other. I’m like an angel of Christmas.”

Mis snorts. “More like a ginger, freckled agent of chaos.”

Thorne laughs. “I’ll take that too. Now, go acknowledge that you’re deliriously in love and stop dragging me into it. Kiss under the mistletoe. Do naughty things with sprinkles. Send photos.”

“I’m hanging up,” I say.

“Send me a picture of the tree, at least. I was so busy planning your present, I haven’t even decorated for myself.”

“Serves you right,” I say. “Merry Christmas, Thorne.” Then I end the call, dropping the phone on the bed.

Mia is trying very hard not to laugh.

“He’s an ass,” I say.