Page 9 of Claimed By the Boss

“Seriously, though. You look amazing.”

“Looks like you had as rough a night as I did,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Oh?” she asks, looking more curious. “What happened to you last night?”

“It’s stupid,” I lie, even though I know she’ll see through that. “Just some asshole who got a little grabby. And another customer stepped in and pulled him off me.”

She smirks. “Was he hot?”

“The asshole?” I stall.

She shoots me a knowing look. “The customer who stepped in,” she says, point-blank. “You’re blushing, so he must have been a dreamboat.”

“Fine,” I mutter through my fingers. “He was hot as hell.”

She cackles. “I knew it! Did you get his number at least?”

I pause for a second, wondering if I should tell her the truth. But it’s Becca. If I don’t tell her, she’ll pry it out of me one way or another. I reach into my bag and pull out his card.

“Sort of,” I say, handing it to her.

She stares at it for a moment, confused, and I can see the gears turning in her brain. The moment understanding dawns, her face lights up, and she bursts out laughing.

“Shut up,” I whine. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh, it’shilarious,” she corrects. “You finally meet a hot guy in the wild, and he’s probably going to be your boss.”

I let out a mortified groan. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, at least you already made an impression.” She laughs. “Knock ’em dead.”

I check my phone and realize I’m going to be late if I don’t leave soon. I give her a quick hug, and she wishes me luck one more time as I walk out the door.

Once I’m in the cab, I keep checking my bag to make sure I have everything. Resumé. Portfolio. Breath mints. No matter how many times I confirm they’re all there, I still panic and worry I’ve forgotten something. My knee bounces the entire way.

When I get to Integrated Solutions, I check in at the front desk, my voice cracking slightly. The security guard doesn’t even blink as he issues me a visitor badge and directs me to the elevator.

I ride it to the top floor alone, watching my reflection in the mirror-polished doors. When I step into the reception area, the receptionist smiles at me politely.

“Lyra Taylor?”

I nod, swallowing hard.

She gestures. “He’s ready for you.”

Part of me hopesheis Damian. The other part is hoping it isn’t because it fears I might spontaneously explode.

My legs feel like lead. I smooth my suit jacket one last time and follow her down the hall, every step echoing. My palms sweat and my heart hammers.

All I can think is,please don’t let me have blown this before I even walk through the door.

4

DAMIEN

I’m standing at the window of my office when my receptionist buzzes me. I press the button on my desk, and her voice comes through clearly.

“Mr.Morozov? Your ten o’clock is here.”