Page 10 of Tall, Dark, and Grumpy

But I’d still quit, if it weren’t for reason number three. Because what started as an inconvenient tendency of my heart to race whenever Mr Blackwood was around has developed into a full-blown crush.

Which is insane.

I have the world’s most stupid crush on my demanding, grumpy, unreasonable, gorgeous boss. The evidence is irrefutable. I tingle under his gaze. When he scowls, I swoon. The mere sound of him saying “Miss Meadows” reverberates in my heart.

I’ve worked harder this month than I ever have before in my life. And what’s wild is, the more growly he is, the more I respond inappropriately.

When Mr Blackwood drops by my desk, and demands, “Why are you still here?” at nine at night, my pussy twitches. I’m there because I want his approval. Because I end up wondering what he’d look like naked when he’s watching me. I wonder what he’d feel like on top of me.

Orinme. Mmmhmm.

I gave a presentation to him and other department heads, and though during the questions he was full of quiet approval, afterwards, he pulled me aside and said, “You need to control your fidgeting.”

“Of course, Mr Blackwood,” I replied, but really, I thought, oh shoot. He noticed me being hot and squirmy in his presence.

I have an itch I can’t satisfy.

Because of this, I desperately need a life outside of work and Mr Blackwood so that I can stop being so pathetic about my boss.

Thankfully, since I’ve been so busy, I haven’t managed to change living circumstances. This morning, I asked my housemate Julie if I could come with them tonight when they went out, and she agreed.

There’s only one small hitch: telling my boss.

It’s funny, there are two types of days, I’ve noticed. Some days, when I arrive in the morning, there’s a message from Mr Blackwood, or he calls almost immediately.

Other days, it’s not until late afternoon that he’ll appear at my office door, or message asking me to come to his office. It’s as though some days he refrains from contacting me. Or maybe he just forgets me.

Today, it’s an afternoon visit to my office with an unfeasible amount of work to be done before the weekend. I muster all my courage, and say, “I’m sorry, that’s not going to be possible. I can’t work late tonight.”

There’s a silence as thick and black as the two seconds when I was in the basement level of the building when the power went out, before the emergency lights flickered on, and I’m just as terrified.

“You can’t work tonight?” he says with dangerous calm. “Why not?”

“It’s a Friday evening,” I point out.

“Do you not value the job I gave you?”

I break apart inside, because yes, and I value him even more. But it’s because of all the unwanted, forbidden feelings he invokes in me that Ihaveto go out tonight.

“Mr Blackwood, this is the first evening I haven’t worked this month. You don’t want me to let my friends down, do you?”

I cross my fingers for luck and for the lie.

His jaw tightens.

“Enjoy your evening, Miss Meadows,” he snaps, and turning on his heel, strides out of the office.

Staring after him, my heart sinks. I’m a hopeless case. Because I suspect I’m not going to have a good evening unless it’s with my boss.

4

VITO

That evening

I genuinely thought that when I moved to London to expand my mafia empire that my main problem would be my two identical triplet brothers who are already kingpins here.

But no. Not at all. It’s my pocket-sized ball of sunshine employee.