Boss I Love To Hate Page 23

  Finally, there was certainty in his face. “We’ll work it out. First, I suggest you get your girl.”

  * * *

  Sonia

  Bringing the bouquet of roses to my nose, I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent.

  What was he going to say before we were interrupted? Whatever it was, it seemed important, and every part of me wanted to know what it was.

  One thing I did know was, our relationship was shifting. Coming to work no longer felt as though I were walking into a war zone.

  I touched the soft petals with my fingertips. I couldn’t place my finger on what exactly was happening, only that the mean old Brad was long gone.

  I pressed my cheek against the soft petals and skipped and staggered to a stop.

  Skipped?

  I looked behind me, searching for something that I’d tripped on. The floor was clear. Then, I looked at the bottom of my shoe to see if gum was stuck there or if I’d broken a heel. Nothing.

  My eyes widened, and my hand flew to my neck where my rapid pulse thumped. After dropping to my chair, I placed the roses on my desk, pulled out the mirror in my desk, and touched my flushed cheeks.

  Crap. Crap. Crap.

  Then, I dropped my head against my desk.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  How could I be so stupid, and when the hell did this happen?

  What I’d said to Ava weeks ago about Jeff played loudly in my head.

  “He was it. My heart skipped for him. I didn’t walk when I was with him; I skipped. Can you imagine that? Skipping into his arms because you’re in love? That’s the kind of relationship we had.”

  Maybe I was confused from the whole charade of being in love that, now, I was mistakenly starting to believe it but this time with Brad?

  “Are you okay?” Lucy, Charles’s secretary, placed a stack of folders on my desk, and her eyebrows pulled together.

  “Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Because I couldn’t possibly be in love with Brad. There was no way.

  A few minutes ago, I’d felt like I was underwater; now, I was drowning.

  I stood, needing to get out of the building and to the open outdoors to think clearly.

  “Sonia, you don’t look too good.” She placed a light hand on my shoulder and then felt my forehead.

  “I’m fine.” I stood and reached for my purse.

  I chucked my bag across my shoulder, already heading to the elevators.

  “Please tell Brad I’m not feeling well.” Because wasn’t that the truth?

  I shouldn’t be leaving without telling him myself. There would be consequences, but right now, consequences be damned.

  * * *

  Brad

  Charles left me no better than when he’d come into my office. But I was on a mission, and after a beat, I stormed straight out of my office in search of Sonia. I didn’t care that my lunch was on its way. I was taking Sonia to lunch, and we were going to hash it all out. But then I saw Lucy at Sonia’s desk, sorting through a stack of papers, and stopped mid-stride.

  “Sonia is out sick.”

  “Sick?”

  She’d looked fine a minute ago.

  “Yes, she went home.”

  Four words that told me where I also needed to be.

  Chapter 17

  Sonia

  Maybe I really was sick. That would explain the heat in my cheeks and my light head earlier. But why were all my symptoms gone now? I refused to think it was anything else. I sat on the couch, flipping through the channels. I had just finished drinking a crap-ton of orange juice and played ten rounds of darts on Brad’s poster, thinking it would make me feel better. It didn’t. Even after marring his face, it didn’t erase the flutter in my chest every time I thought of him. Whatever was happening internally or even externally had to stop and stop fast. I loved my job and my life and my sanity and had to do everything in my power to keep it that way.

  The banging on the door had me jumping up. At least my food was here.

  But, when I opened the door, it wasn’t the Tex Mex delivery guy. It was the BILF.

  I mean, the BILK. BILK! I want to kill him, remember? Not fuck him.

  “What are you doing here?” I snapped, hating how handsome he looked today, how his crisp white button-down hugged his powerful shoulders, his strong arms, his broad chest.

  “I brought reinforcements.” He lifted two brown paper bags. “Soup, crackers, and chocolate.”

  That stupid pitter-patter in my chest intensified. This couldn’t be a good thing.

  “I heard you were sick. Soo …” He peeked around me. “Can I come in?”

  I shouldn’t let him in, but I opened the door, and he strolled in.

  “What’s wrong? Did you call a doctor?” His tone was overly concerned, but I didn’t need my primary physician to fix this. I needed a shrink.

  The whiff of his cologne had me teetering on my bare feet. This was shithole bad.

  “I can’t breathe.” Shit. Did I say that out loud?

  “Do you have asthma?” He leaned in and touched my forehead, making the ability to get air into my lungs worse. “You don’t look too well.”

  I shook my head when he took my hand and led me to the couch.

  Then, he let out a low chuckle. “Well, that’s interesting.”

  “Shit!” I flew to the poster of him on the wall, but he tugged my hand, bringing me cascading into his chest.

  “Stop. I saw it the other day when I was here, remember?” Then, he approached closer, laughing harder. “But this unibrow is different, and this beard …”

  I groaned silently. With a Sharpie, I had tried to make him less beautiful, but it was impossible. No amount of Sharpies could de-beautify that face.

  “Do you think I can rock that beard? I’m not sure about the unibrow.” He tipped my chin up with the lightness of his fingertips, and a tingling sensation traveled down my neck.

  His eyebrow furrowed, and all humor erased from his features. “Lie down,” he commanded in his authoritative boardroom voice.

  And I did because then the dizzying sensation might stop.

  “Did you even eat?”

  He frowned when I shook my head again.

  He sighed and made his way to the kitchen, placing the can of soup on the counter.

  “It’s fine. I ordered Tex Mex.”

  Breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Why the hell did it feel like I was hyperventilating?

  “Chicken soup fixes the sick. According to my mom.” Brad was already sorting through my cabinets. He took out the soup pan, opened the can, and poured the contents into it as though he lived here.

  What alternate universe am I in?

  “I’m not sick. Plus, what the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  Brad never missed work, and this could not be a good thing. Him being here with me in my apartment and not working? If Charles found out, my job would be as good as gone.

  “I’m fine. My job will be there tomorrow and the day after that if it takes you longer to get well.”

  His back was turned to me, and I realized he wasn’t wearing his suit jacket. Trying not to drool, I stared at the expanse of his broad shoulders and the muscles on his back. My mouth felt dry, and for the first time ever, I wondered how he looked without his shirt on.

  I groaned and threw one arm over my eyes. “Why are you doing this, Brad?”

  And why am I doing this? Wasn’t I stronger than this?

  It was silent for a beat before he said, “Because I like you.” The words were spoken softly while he stirred the ladle in the pot.

  Okay. Great. I didn’t know what to do with that.

  “Yeah, but still, I really don’t think you need to be taking care of me when I can take care of myself, and you have meetings all day.”

  I knew his schedule. Once he missed a meeting, I’d have to reschedule it, which was a pain.

  “I don’t think you understand …” His voic
e trailed off.

  With my eyes closed, I could only hear him coming closer. When I lifted my arm, he was right in front of me, above me, and for the life of me, I couldn’t stop picturing him shirtless.

  I gulped. Hormones. I was sure I was going to get my period soon. That had to be the reason.

  “I don’t think you get it …” He smiled then, a small smile, subtle, sweet even. Then, he sat on the couch, scooting me back against the cushions. “I like you, Sonia.”

  I lifted a brow. “Yeah. You have to. I work for you.”

  He moved closer, and the way he was looking at me made my heart hammer in my chest.

  What is happening here?

  * * *

  Brad

  And here was the moment of truth. Where I laid everything out on the table. I had to admit I was scared shitless because she had no clue what I was going to tell her and also, if she didn’t feel the same, it would gut me. It wasn’t like I could blame her. I’d built a reputation and put her in a no-touch box for so long. Now, it’d be hard to change her mindset because that was all we were to each other. Employees. Acquaintances. But I was about to change all that.

  I reached for her hand and caressed the top of her fist with my thumb as I swallowed. “I like you, Sonia. More than my secretary and more than a friend …”

  Her eyebrows flew to her hairline. I couldn’t even finish my spiel that I had practiced in my head numerous times before I walked up to her door because she shot up to a sitting position, eyes wide, and moved as far away from me on the couch as humanly possible.

  Fuck, did that burn!

  “You can’t,” she spluttered. She rapidly blinked and pushed the hair out of her face. “I’m not even your type.”

  I swallowed hard. “So, smart, witty, funny, and beautiful is not my type?” My chest concaved. I had known it would be hard to convince her of us, and I’d expected her to go on the defensive, but still, it hurt.

  She looked at me like I was an alien being. “I’m not blonde, I’m not five-seven or taller, and I’m not a D cup. I’m not your type.” She was adamant, her voice rising with a certainty I didn’t feel.

  I couldn’t deny what she was saying. I’d always dated the same type of girl, the Jean types.

  I carefully chose my words, afraid I would scare her off. “I think about you constantly, Sonia, and ever since the wedding, it’s gotten worse.” I angled closer and pulled her right next to me. Her eyes went wild, and I used everything in my ability to calm her. “Listen. Don’t freak out. Just listen.” I cupped the side of her face, staring into her beautiful eyes that I’d known for years. “I couldn’t have predicted this. Me … you … falling for you.”

  Her hand covered mine on the side of her face. “Brad …” Her breathing came in and out in short, broken puffs, and she eyed the door behind me.

  I didn’t give her a chance to utter another word because I leaned in and met her lips with mine.

  And it was explosive.

  Better than the first time or the second or the third. She tasted like the finest wine, the sweetest chocolate, the most delectable cake.

  I could kiss her for hours, and it would never, ever be enough. I’d always want more. Her hands moved down my chest, and she slowly shoved me away, eyes dazed and wondering and straight-up sexy.

  “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” I whispered, our faces a breath apart.

  Our connection was undeniable and electric, and there was no way she couldn’t feel that spark between us.

  “I’m sorry.” She inched away and blinked up at me, bewildered. She scraped her hand through her hair. “I didn’t feel that.”

  Wait? What!

  This was not happening. I sat there, shocked and still and waiting for someone to come through the door and tell me that I’d been punked. But, of course, no one would walk through her door, and of course, I knew deep down that an incredible kiss would not win her over. This was a woman I had to wine and dine and cherish.

  “I’m sorry …” she started again.

  “No, don’t …” It was too much of a blow to the ego to hear her apologizing for not feeling anything when I felt everything.

  She stubbornly lifted her face. “No, I’m going to say what I have to say. See?” She motioned between us. “It’s this whole charade. Our feelings aren’t real.”

  “I feel everything,” I insisted, eyes steady, voice sure.

  “You don’t.” She pushed her finger into my chest. “You’re still confused, and I get it. I’m confused, too. Like earlier, when I pictured you with your shirt off, and I was like, What?” She scrunched her face, confused. “Why would I want to see him with his shirt off? Then, you came closer, and I was thinking, Goodness, he does have nice shoulders, and he really needs to take off his shirt. Now, really?” She tilted her head and let out a low laugh. “If we were both in our rational minds, would you really want to kiss me, and would I really want you to take off your shirt?”

  She was looking at me like it was all supposed to make sense, and I was trying my damnedest not to laugh.

  Sonia has been thinking about me shirtless, possibly naked?

  She kept babbling, like she always did when she was trying to prove a point, but when I undid the top two buttons of my shirt her breath hitched, and all humor slipped from her features.

  And, now, I was back in the game.

  “What are you doing?” She raised both hands as though she were under arrest, and dirty little thoughts of handcuffs and police outfits filtered through my head.

  “I’m taking off my shirt.” It was getting harder not to smirk.

  The panic was back. “Why? What? Okay, this is getting ridiculous.”

  “You did say you were picturing me shirtless.”

  “I told you how absurd it was,” she yelled.

  My shirt was completely unbuttoned now, and her mouth slipped slightly ajar. I’d been shirtless that wedding night, but she’d been too drunk to remember.

  “Uh …” Sonia was speechless.

  Ding. Ding. Ding. I could hear the winning bell faintly in the background. Now, how could I make it ring louder?

  I reached for her hand. “Here. Touch me.”

  “No!” She tried to retrieve her hand, but my hold was tight and kept her hand between us.

  “You accommodated my kissing experiment, and now, I’m accommodating yours.” My tone was soft, calm, but I felt anything but.

  She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, as if she couldn’t handle my naked chest. “I never said I wanted to kiss you or touch your body.”

  My cock jumped to life at her words because, shit, did I want her to touch my body.

  “Just humor me here.” I tugged her closer and placed her fist across my chest. Her touch awakened every horny cell in my body, and I swallowed. “Nothing?”

  “Yep. Nothing.” It seemed as though she was holding her breath.

  I didn’t believe her for a second. “Listen, Sonia. I tried. I really tried with that kiss a minute ago. You’re not giving this experiment a real shot.”

  I opened her fist and pressed her palm flat against my chest, and she let out one low sigh. Her hand trembled as it trailed slowly down my abs, and my body was flooded with warmth. Shit, I felt her touch everywhere.

  “You could iron on this thing. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.” She counted every single ab muscle and swallowed. Hard. Then, she tucked her hand in her armpit. “See, nothing.” Her smile was strained and forced, and she had to be the worst liar I’d ever met.

  Her eyes trailed the length of my body, and I felt victorious.

  Drink it up, baby, because I’m going to romance the hell out of you.

  I wasn’t giving up that easily. I wanted to take her on a real date, where we could be ourselves and not pretend.

  “Don’t lie, Sonia. It’s not like you.”

  She blew the bangs away from her face “Fine. I’m attracted to you. There. Happy? Really though, you’d have to be blind not t
o be.”

  “I never thought you noticed before.” I wished I had.

  She frowned. “Because you were a jerk. Now, you’re being all sweet, and it’s confusing me.” She pushed out her lip in a signature Sonia pout.

  God, all I wanted to do was hold her and kiss her and do naughty things to her. But the latter would have to wait.

  “Come here.” I pulled her by her forearms, and she landed on my chest. She relaxed into me, and I was thankful she hadn’t pulled away. “Why can’t we just see where this goes?”

  “Because everyone—everyone—knows this is a bad idea.”

  “Who?”

  “Your brothers and …”

  I grinned. “Your parents love me.”

  Even her dad had warmed to me by the end of the evening. Or, at least, he glared less.

  “They do not,” she argued.

  “Your siblings love me.” I tipped her chin with a light fingertip. “Don’t lie.”

  “Fine,” she said. “They do, but still … that doesn’t mean a thing.”

  I gave her my most serious face. “Just give me a chance, Sonia. One date, and I’ll never ask you for anything again.”

  I waited ten torturous seconds for her answer.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yes, because, before you got here, I agreed to go on a double with Jean and Jeff.”

  I scoffed. “You did? Why?” I didn’t want to see that prick again, let alone go on a double with him.

  She rolled her eyes. “Because, when Miss Barbie texts with, I understand if you change your mind. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable with Jeff being your ex, I couldn’t let her have the last say.”

  I thought on it for a moment. It wasn’t what I’d had in mind, but I’d take it.

  I smirked. “Deal.”

  * * *

  Sonia

  Brad’s revelation had kicked my world off its axis. In between him trying to convince me that we’d be good together and me trying to convince him that these feelings would eventually pass, my life had turned upside down.