The Boss Upstairs - Roya Carmen Page 0,28

with an employer before.”

“It’s certainly a slippery slope, hence the need for an agreement like this.”

I read further down and review the Limits clause. I’m not sure how I feel about having no emotional attachment with him, but let’s face it, we barely know each other. I’ve never been the type to have sex just for the sake of sex, but I desperately crave his touch. And I’m not ready for anything more. I still love Donovan, and I’d feel guilty having any kind of emotional connection with anyone else. As it happens, this clause suits me just fine after all.

We both sit quietly, the silence between us heavy. I slowly stand, not sure what else to add. “Well, I should get going,” I say. “I’ll get back to you on this by tomorrow morning.”

He smiles and offers me his hand, as if this were just a typical business meeting. The man is certainly strange, but strange in a very sexy way.

I shake his hand politely, wondering what he might be like in bed. It’s kind of hard to imagine, but my instincts tell me he might just be amazing.

Or he might be weird and plain awful.

What have I gotten myself into? We should probably not do this. What if it ends badly, and then we’re stuck working together? What if I end up losing this job over this? Sure, my monetary compensation is guaranteed, but this job really isn’t about the money. Our savings and Donovan’s insurance policy insure that I never need to work a single day again.

My head aches as I excuse myself. I steal one last glance before I turn the corner. He stands tall and smiles sweetly. “I love what you’re wearing, by the way. It’s perfect.” He raises a hand to tuck his unruly lock of hair behind his ear. Misbehaving hair notwithstanding, he’s impeccable. Beautiful. Irresistible.

And I know there’s no way I’m not signing that agreement. The consequences be damned.

I can barely focus for the rest of the day. I’m a zombie, doodling aimlessly. I read the agreement over and over, and scribble notes. I really don’t know how to handle this. I desperately need to confide in someone. Yet, I can’t. It’s right there in the Confidentiality clause.

Perhaps if I don’t divulge too many details…

As soon as I get home, I wrap Ethan in a big bear hug. Above all, he’s my top priority. Can I do this without affecting him? I don’t see why not. A happy Mommy makes for a happy child, doesn’t it? And Weston makes me happy. And I’m sure that an orgasm or two would certainly make me very happy. Truth be told, I’ve been kind of testy and stressed lately, and that’s not good for Ethan.

Weston seems to understand that my priority is Ethan. It’s right there in the agreement, under the Availability clause. He knows my time is limited because I’m a single mom.

I heat up a frozen lasagna and give Ethan a bath after dinner. He’s happy splashing in the tub, and I take the opportunity to call Abigail. She answers on the third ring.

“Hey girl,” she says. “What’s up?”

“You need to come over. Now!”

“Why? What’s up?” she asks, curious.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“When do you want me over?”

“In an hour. Ethan will be in bed by then.”

“I’ll be there with bells on.”

I’m smiling as I end the call. I haven’t even signed the agreement yet, and I’m already breaking rules. But how can I possibly be expected to handle something this big all by myself?

I’ve chosen Abigail as my confidante because she’s my most level-headed friend. Mischa is too uptight, and Claudia is too wild. Mischa wouldn’t approve. She’d probably tell me that having a sexual relationship with the boss is a terrible idea. Claudia would most likely encourage me to move into his penthouse and become his sex slave. And the fact that Abigail is a social worker doesn’t hurt either. She listens and advises on people’s personal issues for a living. She’s basically a professional listener.

Abigail is wearing pajama pants, an oversized t-shirt and fuzzy slippers when she shows up. And I’m pretty sure she’s not wearing a bra.

“What?” She shrugs. “I wanted to be comfy. Here you go.” She hands me a bottle of Pinot Noir, which I gladly accept. I could really use a nice glass of wine.

She makes herself comfortable on my sofa, and I pour us both a glass. “What is Abe up to?”

“Oh, he’s working on a