Like a Boss - Annabelle Costa Page 0,8

“I’m not trying to look sexy. This is a business lunch. Purely business.”

“Sure it is.” Jenna grins at the look on my face. “Hey, I don’t blame you. I’m sure the rumors about him being a total asshole are exaggerated. And either way, he’s really hot in the pictures.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” I mumble.

“You would kind of have to notice if you’re not dead. You’re not dead, are you, Ellie?”

I avert my eyes. I wonder what Jenna would say if I told her Luke was in a wheelchair. I don’t want to be the one to tell her—it doesn’t feel like my place. I’m not sure why though. It’s not like it’s a secret.

Luke told me to come to his office at noon, so I arrive at 11:55, hoping he’ll appreciate how punctual I am. I can’t help but notice his assistant Michelle is freaking gorgeous. She’s got that tall and slim but curvy physique, like all the Barbie dolls I used to see Luke dating in college. She also can’t be any older than twenty-five.

I wonder if Luke is sleeping with her. I watch the way they interact together when she brings me into his office, trying to figure out if there’s anything flirtatious between them. But Luke has that stone-faced mask on at all times. No flirting, that’s for sure.

Yet another thing that’s changed about Luke. He used to flirt like breathing. No one was immune.

Not even me.

“Here I am!” I declare. My voice tremors slightly. “Right on time.”

“Yes.” Luke has his eyes on his computer screen and barely looks at me. Which I suppose is fair. Yes, I was on time. Do I want a medal? “All right. Let’s get going.”

When we head down in the elevator, I assume there will be some sort of limousine or car service picking us up at the entrance. So it’s a surprise when we go all the way down to the basement.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

Luke gives me a strange look. “My car. I parked in the garage.”

“Your car?” I say. “You drive?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t look so astonished.”

I wince. Luke is my new boss, and right now, I’m batting zero. I’ll be lucky if he hasn’t fired me by the end of this lunch. “I just… I thought you would have, you know, a driver or something.”

“Well,” he says, “I don’t.”

I watch Luke push himself out of the elevator, trying to figure how he’s going to be able to drive a car. I mean, obviously people with disabilities can drive. But how can he do it with limited hand function?

Luke’s car is a sleek black Tesla, parked in one of the handicapped spots right near the entrance to the garage. It’s probably the most expensive car in the lot—not that I’m surprised. He hooks his fingers into the handle of the driver’s side door, fumbling to get it open, and I blurt out, “Do you need any help?”

Luke freezes and stares up at me. “Excuse me?”

I’m blushing so hard, even my toes must be red. I need to stop talking completely. “I mean—”

He folds his arms across his chest. “What? You think I need help getting into my own car?”

“No,” I say quickly.

He arches an eyebrow. “You think I would drive myself to work without any way of getting myself back in the car to leave?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Well, you just said that.”

He’s got me there. He’s as good at beating me an argument as he was back in college. Thankfully, he shakes his head and doesn’t press the matter further.

He climbs into the car without too much trouble, as it turns out. I watch as he lifts himself from his wheelchair into the front seat—first his body, then he pulls his legs along with him. Then he pops the wheels off his chair and tosses them behind him into the back seat. I get in beside him and do my best not to stare.

As he starts up the car, I notice he’s slouching a bit. In college, Luke used to have a ramrod-straight spine, to the point where I felt like I could put a book on his head in the morning and it would still be there in the evening. But now it’s like he has no muscles at all in his trunk. I can tell he’s aware of it because he frequently pushes his hand against his thigh to straighten himself out. Although to be honest, he may still have better posture than