Page 22 of Claimed By the Boss

“I’m sure you did,” he replies. “But it’s my job to make sure you don’t have to.”

There’s something final in the way he says it, like there’s no room for argument.

“How has the first day been otherwise?” he asks after typing something into his computer.

I exhale slowly. “As you may know, it’s been pretty eventful.”

That earns a ghost of a smile that changes the atmosphere instantly.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” he says. “It was a personnel issue that should have been handled before it reached your floor.”

I nod, even though we both know that wasn’t a personnel issue. I don’t say it. I don’t ask the question that’s been burning in my throat all day.

“Apart from that, how are you finding it here?” he asks.

I swallow. “The work is good. The team’s sharp. The systems are clean.”

“Did you expect a mess?” He tilts his head, curious.

“I expected a challenge,” I admit. “This place moves fast.”

He nods. “It has to.”

His eyes stay on mine a beat too long.

Something shifts between us. The silence deepens, becoming charged. I try to look away, but I can’t.

“You seem comfortable here already,” he says nonchalantly.

Now it’s my turn to tilt my head. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he says. “It’s just rare. Most new hires look like they’re going to shit themselves for at least their first week. I’ve never seen someone look like they belong so quickly.”

I force a small laugh, even though my throat’s gone dry. “I’m not sure I’d say I feel like I belong.”

“You carry yourself like you do.”

That surprises me.

“That’s probably just the suit. It really projects false confidence.”

His gaze flicks down my body and back up. “It’s a good suit.”

The words hang in the air between us, and there’s almost a proposition in the way he says it. I’m not imagining it. I know I’m not. There’s something in the way he’s looking at me too, steady and intense. I’d swear he’s thinking about undoing the buttons of this jacket he just complimented. And I can’t pretend I’m not thinking about the same thing.

“You’ve surprised me,” he says after a moment.

“How so?”

“You’re younger than I expected,” he says. “Most of the candidates for this role were in their thirties. You’re what, in your early twenties?”

“Twenty-one,” I tell him.

He nods. “And you’re already so capable.”

“And that surprises you?” I ask, confused. Why shouldn’t I be so capable already? I worked very hard to get here.

“A little,” he admits. “But more than anything, you’ve impressed me.”