Page 50 of Boss of Me

“Really?” Of course Gunner dates heiresses. He’s a superwealthy sex symbol with a plethora of beautiful women at his disposal. He doesn’t have to go slumming with the hired help—me, specifically.

“So what happened? Why’d they break up?” When Maverick hesitates, heat rises in my cheeks. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not.” Maverick lifts his glass to his lips. “Laurene thought Gunner worked too much. She wanted him to spend more time with her, whisk her away on romantic trips, be more attentive.” The corner of Maverick’s mouth tilts up as if he’s amused. “Gunner didn’t respond well to her ultimatum, so she broke up with him.”

“Sheended the engagement?”

Maverick nods. “She learned the hard way that ultimatums rarely work in favor of the people demanding them. She wants him back and is hoping they can work things out.”

“Oh?” I feel like I have cotton in my throat. “Well, I wish them the best.”

“Mmm.” Maverick sips his champagne, pale blue eyes studying me over the rim of the flute. I wonder what he sees in my face. I don’t think I want to know.

Gunner suddenly glances in our direction, his eyes narrowing with something resembling displeasure. The blonde follows his gaze and frowns, first at me and then at Gunner.

A knowing chuckle rumbles out of Maverick. “Interesting.”

“What?” I ask.

“Watch this,” he murmurs, shifting closer to me. When Gunner’s expression darkens, Maverick laughs a wicked laugh that could have come from the devil himself.

I shake my head at him. “If I get fired, I’m blaming you.”

He chuckles. “No worries, beautiful. Believe me, you’re not going anywhere.”

I don’t know what that means. Before I can ask him to elaborate, he winks at me and then saunters off into the crowd. Two women immediately glom onto him, simpering and batting their mink lashes.

Resisting the urge to look in Gunner’s direction, I drain my glass and make my way to the kitchen. The caterers are bustling around preparing dinner. I’m nearly mowed down by a server rushing past with a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

Across the kitchen, Mrs. Calder is conferring with the catering director. She’s been super bossy all evening, ordering everyone around like a maniacal drill sergeant. I don’t want to get in her crosshairs, so I grab a tray of champagne flutes and hurry back to the party.

My bosshole and his ex are drifting through the crowd, laughing and mingling with other guests. Determined to keep my distance, I head to the opposite side of the room and remain there.

My avoidance strategy seems to be working until I spot Gunner and Laurene moving in my direction. I feel a cold stab in my gut when I make eye contact with the blonde. Before I can pivot and scurry away, she raises her hand to summon me as if I’m a waitress at a restaurant.

Smothering a curse, I start forward with my tray carefully balanced on one hand. Gunner watches me come closer, his expression intense yet guarded. It’s so unnerving that I have to force myself to relax and breathe before I end up dropping the drinks I’m carrying.

When I reach the couple, Laurene plucks a flute off my tray, her silvery green eyes raking me from head to toe. With her icy blond hair and sun-kissed skin, she’s even more gorgeous up close. Intimidatingly gorgeous.

“Gunner tells me you’re his new housekeeper,” she says haughtily.

I nod, smiling. “He was kind enough to hire me when I needed a job.”

“That’s my Gunner,” she sighs, smoothing a perfectly manicured hand down his chest. “Always a champion of the underdog.”

“Indeed,” I murmur, meeting Gunner’s silent gaze. “He’s been very generous.”

Laurene narrows her eyes. Flawlessly garbed in haute couture, she oozes glamour, wealth and sexy sophistication. Next to her, I feel drab and dowdy in my servant’s attire.

I hold out my tray to Gunner. “More champagne?”

He slowly takes a glass, his eyes never leaving my face. “Enjoying the party?”

“Absolutely, sir,” I gush like some breathless ingénue. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be on a Saturday night.”

A faint glimmer of amusement sparks in his eyes. I can almost hear him calling me smartass, and I want to laugh.

Laurene divides a look between us and frowns, then sets her untouched glass on my tray with a sharp clink. “So Margaret?—”