Forbidden Boss (Nikki and Rome's Story) (Manhattan Billionaires)

18. Rome

My father gavea charming speech that earned him raucous cheers and thunderous applause, and I didn’t hear a word of it. I sat next to Nikki obsessing about the taste of her lips.

I ran over the events of the last hour, cursing myself.

I shouldn’t have touched her. I was courting trouble. She was an employee, first of all. Touching her at all went against the explicit bounds of our contract. Not to mention the fact that we’d have to be spending time together for the next few months, and now I knew how her body felt pressed against mine.

But she’d flown to my defense when my parents trotted out their tired old criticisms, and something had snapped inside me. Suddenly, Nikki wasn’t the plus-one that made me look good. Now, she was a strong woman who wasn’t afraid to stand up to the guests of honor in order to defend me.

Not even Coach Reggie had been able to do that—not when my parents donated buckets of money to my boarding school and dangled that over the administrators’ heads at every opportunity. He’d supported me in private and deferred to them in public.

But Nikki hadn’t been afraid. She’d straightened her shoulders and stood there like I needed a champion, and she was the perfect person for the job.

For the first time in my life, I had someone in my corner.

I leaned my arm on the back of her chair, my fingers drifting over her shoulder. She angled her head toward me, slowly lifting her gaze to meet mine. Her cheeks grew pink, and I grew hard. My eyes traced a strand of hair that had fallen out of place, the only evidence remaining of our interlude upstairs.

Dinner was served and I’m sure I made pleasant conversation with the other guests seated at our table, but I wouldn’t be able to remember anything I said. Every cell in my body was focused on her. On the graceful movement of her fingers as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The way she smiled at the old man seated to her left. The curve of her neck as she leaned over, laughing.

That night, in my mind, was a series of vivid snapshots. The sight of Nikki pressed against the wall, flushed with desire, lipstick smudged onto her cheek. Her graceful descent down the stairs. The smell of her skin. The way she glanced at me from the corner of her eye when dessert was served, our shared secret plain in her gaze.

I was a man discovering the depth of a new addiction. A man on the way down.

In the car, when the evening was over, I watched the play of the streetlights over her face, her dress, her folded hands. I glanced down at the heels on her feet, wishing they were propped on my shoulders. We didn’t say a word to each other until we stopped outside her apartment.

Keith got out, and Nikki met my gaze.

“The car will pick you up tomorrow at noon. We’ll take the bird over to Garcia’s place.”

Her eyes were dark and liquid. She dipped her chin. “Sure.”

Keith’s shadow moved outside her door, and I knew I only had a moment longer with her. “Thank you,” I blurted.

“For what?”

“For tonight.”

She held my gaze for a long moment, then gave me a little half-smile. Keith opened the door, and then she was gone. I waited until she disappeared from view, then gave my driver a nod. By the time I got home, I was cold and alone and empty.