Page 54 of Boss of Me

A minute passes, my heart counting each second until he stands and gently pulls me to my feet. When he kneels down to help me step into my heels, I think of the dashing prince sliding the glass slipper onto Cinderella’s foot, and my stomach flutters.

But I’m not Cinderella, and Gunner Ransom is no Prince Charming.

Even if I’m starting to wish he was.

Chapter Twelve

gunner

Iwatch marlowe head back towardthe house, her dark hair gleaming under the moon before she disappears into the shadows. She said she’s going to bed. What I wouldn’t give to join her.

“Gunner.” Laurene cups my cheek in her hand, forcing me to meet her angry gaze. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” I murmur. “Is there?”

Her eyes narrow sharply. “What the hell is going on between you and Marlowe? Are you sleeping with her?”

“No.”

“But you want to,” she hisses accusingly. “It’s so damn obvious you want to fuck her.”

I don’t deny it. What would be the point?

“Unbelievable!” Laurene shrieks, jabbing her finger into my chest. “It’s only been a month since we broke up, Gunner.One fucking month!”

I grab her hand before she can poke me again. “You need to calm down,” I bite out. “You’rethe one who ended things, remember?”

“Because you were neglecting me!” she yells in my face. “All you cared about was your precious company! You never had any time for me!”

“That’s not true,” I growl. “You wanted every second of my time. The more I gave, the more you demanded. It was never enough for you and you know it.”

She yanks her hand from mine, her chin quivering like a petulant little girl’s. “Why didn’t you invite me to the party tonight? Why did I have to hear about it from other people?”

I frown. “We’re not together anymore?—”

“I know that,” she snaps. “You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

I shake my head at her. “What do you want from me, Laurene?”

“I want you to tell me that you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you. I want you to admit that I’m perfect for you and we belong together.”

I silently regard her. She’s gorgeous, wealthy and well connected. As the daughter of a hotel magnate, she’s my natural counterpart—the kind of woman I’m supposed to end up with. I care for her. I wouldn’t have proposed if I didn’t. But right now, standing before her, I don’t say the words she wants to hear.

I can’t.

And that’s pretty damning.

She stares at me, her eyes narrowed and accusing. “I know what this is about. You’re punishing me.”

I frown. “What’re you talking about?”

“You’re punishing me for breaking up with you.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are!”

“No.I’m not.” I rake a hand through my hair and blow out a hard breath. “Look, this isn’t a good time. I have guests?—”