Page 11 of Bossy Wicked Prince

“You seem tense, Mr. Walsh. Is there anything I can do to help? Guys always tell me I give great shoulder rubs.”

Just imagining her hands on me makes my shoulders go up to my ears.

“No,” I say firmly.

“Just call me when you’re done with the contracts, then,” she says. “I’ll be right outside.”

“I know.”

Thatiswhere your desk is.

I shake my head. Raven’s being no more annoying than she always is. The person I’m really pissed off at is myself.

Last night, I breached my own security protocols. United Protection Services is the largest security company in Canada, and almost every business in the downtown core uses us. As the owner, I have access to all their security footage. Which, according to the terms of our contracts, should only be reviewed when there’s a security risk.

Technically, I guess therewasa security risk. Harry.

He’ll know she walks home alone, just like I do.

So I watched Cat walk home. As soon as she entered an area my cameras couldn’t cover, I tapped into the neighboring building’s security footage with my executive override code.

Moving from building to building, I was able to track Cat until she headed into Allan Gardens, where I lost her. I don’t like that she lives so far, in a part of town notorious for muggings and assaults.

I refrained from hacking into Beau’s files to get Cat’s address, but just barely.

How am I supposed to make sure she gets home if she won’t accept the ride from my driver, and I don’t even know where the hell she lives?

I glance at the clock in the corner of my computer. Jesus, it’s already ten o’clock. Cat’s been working since lunch, so her shift should be ending now. Fuck, am I too late? She might have already left.

My leg bounces impatiently as I pull up the building’s interior security footage, checking out the action in the Steakhouse. There are only a few tables still full, none of them in Cat’s section. There’s no sign of her anywhere.

Clicking through the cameras, I scan the kitchen and prep area looking for her. When I switch to the view of the host stand, I see the outline of a woman partially concealed by a large fern. Could that be her?

Raven knocks on the door. When I don't immediately answer, she knocks again, harder.

“What?” I bark.

“Did you sign the contracts?” she asks.

I wordlessly pass her the top one, my eyes still glued to the screen as the woman moves out from behind the fern. It is her. She smiles broadly at a couple leaving the restaurant before walking toward the back.

Raven smacks her lips. “I need the other one, too.”

“What?” I snap.

She indicates the second, still unsigned contract.

I rush through the pages, signing everywhere she’s put an obnoxious neon green tab.

“I was thinking,” she says, letting the words linger for a moment as if I might read her mind when all I want is for her to get the fuck out of my office. “It’s Saturday night, and I hear they have great cocktails downstairs. Would you want to grab a drink when we’re through here?”

A dark shape moves into my peripheral vision. For some goddamn reason, Raven perched at the edge of my desk like the fucking bird she’s named for.

I finish the final signature and hand her the contract without a word.

Her smile falls. “You know I never make it out with my friends because you always have me here late on Fridays and Saturdays. I just thought since we’re stuck here that it might be nice if?—”

“That’ll be all, Raven.”