Chapter 15
CURTIS
The only thing I wanted to do was get Faith safely out of there.
Jack watched our backs as we hurried out.
The whole night, I couldn’t help catching glimpses of her, although I did my best not to stare.
She was off-limits for so many reasons. But as soon as I saw that curly-haired fucker grab her, that was it.
All thought left the building as my caveman came out.
I’d never had such an intense need to protect a woman.
Which pissed me off because she’d lied to me…
was still lying to me. She obviously thought so little of me to be so easily swayed by my father to spy on me.
Fuck, but that bothered me more than it should.
Breaking into the freezing night air was like being doused with a bucket of ice water.
I pulled Faith two doors down, stopped, then faced her.
But I didn’t release her delicate wrist—I needed the physical reassurance that she was all right.
Her galloping pulse tickled the pad of my middle finger with every beat, giving me a semi.
Or maybe it was the adrenaline. Yep, that must be it.
Hopefully the cold would stifle a full-blown erection—it wasn’t exactly the time or place. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
She stared up at me, assessing, as if she was surprised that I was concerned.
Her forehead wrinkled in seriousness as she bent and unbent her arm, then shook it as if waving crazily, and I did my best not to laugh.
How she managed to make such a serious situation funny without even trying, I had no idea.
Maybe it was because she was drunk. “Um, I think I’m okay.
My arm hurt at the time, but it’s okay now.
” She bit into her plump bottom lip, doing nothing to help the situation in my pants.
I pictured my dad’s face. Yep, always worked a charm.
“Thank you for saving me… again. You’re really making a habit out of it for someone you hate.
But I want you to know, I appreciate it. ”
Jack, who stood a few paces away, smirked.
Fucker. He’d already teased me about having the hots for my new gorgeous secretary and following her to the bar.
I’d denied it as if my life depended on it—because it did.
“I don’t hate you.” It pained me to admit that, to both of us.
The last thing I wanted was to fall for one of my staff, especially one I couldn’t trust. Not to mention, I didn’t want her getting any ideas and causing more trouble for me. I had enough to deal with.
Two divots appeared between her brows. “But you do. You’re always mean to me, and you never smile for me, but you do for other people.”
I sighed. She had me there, but I wasn’t going to explain.
“I’m sorry you got that impression. I’m an exacting boss.
I’ll try and be less… mean to you in future.
” That was the best I could do. Self-preservation was all I had keeping me afloat right now.
If I gave in to my attraction for her, I might as well quit my position on Monday morning and get therapy.
I’d been a fool twice in my life, and the third time was not going to be lucky, just like getting shit on by a bird wasn’t lucky.
Telling people it was, was the ultimate form of gaslighting.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, if you’re less mean, I’ll be less combative. But only by an equal amount.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her sassiness.
There, see; I was making an effort.
Most women told me what they thought I wanted to hear. Maybe that’s why I found her intriguing—she always gave as good as she got, which was a form of honesty, and she had no poker face to speak of. It was usually easy to read what she was thinking.
She looked at my right hand, which reminded me that it was throbbing and still gripping her wrist. She lifted it so she could inspect it. “Your knuckles are swollen. You need to put ice on them.” She looked at Jack. “When you get home, make sure he takes care of it. Maybe he needs an X-ray.”
He grinned. “Will do. Anyway, if we’re all good here, I’m freezing, and I want to go home. I’m calling the car.”
Eric, our driver tonight, wouldn’t be too far away—hovering and waiting for our call. I looked at Faith. “We’ll drop you home.”
“No. It’s fine. I can walk. It’s not far.”
Over my dead body. “No, you can’t. We’re dropping you home.
Say another word and you’re fired.” I was half joking, needing her to know that I wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but the way her face paled, I was a bastard for saying that.
Whether she hated me for it or not, I wasn’t going to let anyone, let alone her, walk home at this time of night, solo and tipsy. Forget it.
“Okay. But let me pay you back.”
I laughed. “Eric’s on a yearly salary. We’re paying him anyway—whether he drives five miles or fifty.”
She jerked her wrist out of my hold and folded her arms, severing our connection. “Fine, Bossho…” Her voice had gone very quiet after the boss bit.
“What did you say?”
She raised her chin. “Nothing. You got your way. Happy?”
“Yes, I am.” Had she called me Bosshole? I narrowed my eyes. Surely she didn’t. I must be hearing things. It wasn’t even a word.
By the time Eric pulled up at the curb, I’d given up wondering if she’d actually called me Bosshole.
But I couldn’t give up the knowledge of how her skin felt beneath mine or how I’d raged in like an idiot on a white horse as soon as she was in trouble without thought of how it might look if it ended up on social media.
All I could think about was murdering that piece of shit for touching my Donut Girl.
Thank God I decided to go tonight. I wouldn’t think about why I’d decided to go—about how easy it was to act like a hero when I knew it couldn’t lead anywhere.
To what end was I doing this? It was never going to be anything. My father was right about one thing: Don’t trust a woman who was trying to seduce you who had less money or fame than you.
You are so dumb, Curtis. She doesn’t even respect you—like most of the other women you’ve been interested in. Please have some respect for yourself.
The voice in my head was right. I just had to figure out a way to honor it.
Besides, I’d taken on more than I could handle with the secret account—I had no room for inappropriate thoughts about my PA.
With the stress of running the company and trying to save my position, my creative brain had gone into hiding, and if I didn’t nail down my concept soon, I was going to look like a bigger loser than my father gave me credit for.
I couldn’t let that happen. In fact, I’d do anything to prove to my sperm donor that I had what it took to run Knight Advertising. As much as I hated myself for it, I still wanted his approval.
It was time to make it happen.