Page 7 of Silver Fox Grump

“Temporary,” Wes says and slams the phone down.

And just like that, I’ve won, and lost, all at the same time.

“You saved me,” she breathes, her face shining with happiness and she stumbles forward. “Thank?—”

“Do not make me out to be a white knight, Miss Matthews,” I cut her off. “You will pay for this favour.”

For a moment it seems like she might throw herself over the desk to hug me, but she stops short.

My heart clenches. That’s good. Better.

She mustn’t come near me. She’s utterly forbidden, and I don’t think I can hold back if I have her within reach.

I imagine her brushing my arm with that small hand, and setting off a trigger of need that ends with her pinned against the wall, or over my desk, my hands pressing into her hips as I force her to take my cock.

“Of course. I’ll do anything.”

Oh god, I wish she hadn’t said that.

“I really need this job. It’s my only way of escaping my father’s stifling household. I’ll be a model worker. No,” she casts around, “silliness or cupcakes. You can pay me less.” She picks the cupcake tub from the floor with a sheepish look. “I’ll work for nothing, in fact.”

“No, you’ll be paid as appropriate. You’re under my protection now.” She’s my employee, and off-limits.

Her cheeks pinken. “That’s really kind of you, Mr Blackwood.”

“No, it’s not.” I don’t allow myself to return her smile. That smile isn’t for me, just as she isn’t for me. I’ve done some dark things in my life, but this might be the worst. I can’t have her, but I must see her. But not face to face.

She’ll pay with her privacy.

3

MAISIE

2 years later

When will I actually feel like an adult? I look up from my book and cup of tea and glance around at my tiny apartment.

It’s a Saturday evening, and I’m—as usual—on my own, and reading. But this book isn’t holding my attention, and instead of being engrossed in a world of dragon riders and magic, my thoughts are drifting to my boss.

Specifically, what I’d need to do to make Mr Blackwood view me like the hero of this book does the heroine. As desirable, and an adult. And that reminds me that despite my best efforts, I’m still not out of my father’s shadow.

Before I started working for Mr Blackwood, I thought if I got out of Mitcham and had a place of my own and a job, I would feel like a proper grown-up. But no.

I’m still constrained. My father won’t permit me to go out with my colleagues, and I dare not push him because his reply will be to revoke his “temporary” permission for me to work, and start talking again about me being a good little mafia princess, and marrying and having kids.

Perhaps this dissatisfaction is because I didn’t grow up with my kingpin dad. I barely saw him when I was a kid, and I couldn’t believe it when I discovered he was my legal guardian when my mum died.

Since then, it’s been a crash course on mafia princess life.

And it’s not that I don’t want a husband and a baby, it’s just that my taste in men is very specific, and I don’t think anyone involved would approve of my sad devotion to my grumpy boss. Certainly not Mr Blackwood. Definitely not my father.

But I feel like the best years of my life are passing me by cars on a drizzly Tuesday evening when I’m walking home from work.

I read. I bake cupcakes that my colleagues at Morden appreciate. And even though I don’t have the courage to go to offer Mr Blackwood a cupcake, I’m still living off his expression when he ate one two years ago.

I’ve been thinking about getting a cat.

But sometimes I think there must be more than this. I should be out partying or something, I guess. If only I was allowed friends, party clothes, or knew where to sneak out to in London. With Mr Blackwood, maybe? A date. A real date, with my gorgeous boss. That’s what I long for.