You're My Boss.

𝕻𝖊𝖉𝖆𝖑𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕾𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖘

Shaw's Mahattan Townhouse.

ᏒᎥᏋᏝ

I hate Shaw Harlow. Which person in their right mind goes cycling at four in the morning?

It's not even morning until five. This man is a lunatic. Why did he have to force me to leave the warmth of my bed to watch him ride a bicycle?

I hug myself to fend off the cold New York air. "That jerk," I complain not caring the driver hears me insulting his boss.

"Ahem," the driver snortles.

"What bad things are you whispering about me to Hank?" Harlow asks as he nearly runs his bicycle over my toes.

I turn my head to the side. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," I answer.

He laughs, his voice a deep, smooth rumble that resonates through the street. "So . . . you didn't just call me a jerk?" He asks.

I make the gesture of zipping my lips shut. And he laughs even louder this time. The sound of his laugh sends a shiver down my spine. It was like his laugh was warming me up from the inside.

Mr.Harlow hops off the bicycle and stretches for the car."I did tell you to bring a jacket," he says.

"I forgot," I mumble.

"Hmm," he muses.

He seems to find what he looking for, and reaches for the small of my back with his free hand. I shouldn't enjoy my boss touching me this much but I do. "Wear this for now," he whispers as he wraps the flight jacket he wore the other day over my shoulders.

"Thanks," I tell him.

I look up at him and a giggle escapes me.

"What's so funny?" He asks.

"It's still dark out," I say. I don't even give a second thought to reaching up and pulling the pair of shades from over his eyes."Why are you wearing shades?"

"Ohh," he chuckles.

I swallow and my cheeks heat up as I move the glasses from his face to see that his cold blue eyes are locked on me. The way he looks at me . . . "Don't be silly," I tell myself. Shaw Harlow is in love with his fiancée. I am just an assistant to him. An employee who can replaced at a moment's notice, I won't let myself feel anymore special to him than that.

What's wrong with me?

I came to this city for a better life not to get attracted to older, unavailable, straight men.

"Is something wrong?" He whispers.
"No," I answer, hanging my head.

"Don't lie to me," he snaps."I can tell that you're upset by something."

"I'm not upset by anything," I mutter.

Harlow's eyebrow arches, he seems
unconvinced by what I just told him.

"You're still lying to me," he groans.

"I am not lying," I lie.

"Come on, just tell me what's wrong with you," he orders me.

I ignore him, walking to the opposite side of the road. He holds my wrist and twists me back in his direction.

"I asked you a question," he groans.

"I already answered," I heave a sigh
"Just because you sign my paycheck doesn't mean you have the right to hound me."

He blinks at my reaction. The color from his eyes dim. "Why would you say something like that to me?"