Page 30 of Boss of Me

“I’m not.”

“Liar,” he says softly.

“Whatever.” I set my glass down, pick up my fork and cut into my fish. It’s tender and flaky, grilled to perfection. I’m secretly grateful that my duties don’t include preparing meals. I’m a decent cook, but I could never compete with Gunner’s Michelin-trained private chef.

I must’ve sighed or made some sound of pleasure, because Gunner grins at me. “Enjoying the halibut?”

“I am. It’s scrumptious.” A wry smile touches my lips. “Between my luxurious suite and Gustav’s five-star cuisine, I feel more like a guest at the Ritz than the help.”

“Stop calling yourself the help.”

“I’m your housekeeper. That’sliterallythe definition of the help.” When Gunner frowns, I shrug a shoulder. “It’s all good. There’s no shame in domestic work, especially when you’re being generously compensated. Honestly, I’m lucky to have a boss who likes throwing his wealth around. You know what they say about a fool and his money.”

Gunner releases a throaty rumble of a laugh that vibrates through my chest. “Christ, you’ve got a mouth on you.”

I smile sweetly and take a sip of wine as he regards me with glittering eyes. I’m a novelty to him. A pretty toy to amuse himself with. The thought is unnerving.

“You’re home earlier than usual,” I say with forced casualness. “I was beginning to wonder if you actually live here.”

He grins slowly. “You been missing me?”

My face heats. “Not hardly.”

He laughs like he doesn’t believe me.

Trying not to squirm in my seat, I eat a forkful of braised potato and wash it down with another gulp of wine.

Gunner tops off our glasses before resuming his meal. His lashes are so thick and long, fanning his cheeks every time he blinks. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to his gut-punching beauty. Not likely.

“Talk to me,” he says.

“About what?”

“Anything. You, mostly.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“No?” He looks surprised. I’m guessing he doesn’t hear that word very often.

“You ran a background check on me, which means you already know way more about me than I know about you. In fact, given your technical prowess and vast resources, I wouldn’t be surprised if you know how many books I’ve read since kindergarten.”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Know how many books you’ve read.” His eyes glimmer. “But it’s a fascinating bit of trivia I wouldn’t mind learning.”

“Be that as it may, it’syourturn to share.” I smirk. “Now that you’re not impersonating someone else, you can tell mesomething real about yourself. Like I said, there’s so much I don’t know.”

He looks skeptical. “You expect me to believe you haven’t googled me?”

“I haven’t,” I tell him honestly. “On the way home from my interview, I pulled up your company’s website out of grudging curiosity. As soon as I clicked on your bio and saw your picture, I almost chucked my phone out the window.”

He bursts out laughing, the delicious sound echoing around the room.

I feel my lips twitch. “I was too pissed off to google you. It was only after I accepted your job offer that I went back to your website to learn more about your company.”

“And what did you learn?”