He's The Boss

7

The knocking on the door melds with the thrumming of my heartbeat, startling me awake one morning.

What day is it?

Thursday, according to my phone. I roll out of bed, eyes going wide at the thought of someone at the door. It's them. Rocco and his men. I just know it.

I have to get out of here. What do I do?

Fire escape. Hurriedly, I pull on the nearest coat and some shoes. I'm just putting one foot out the window when I hear a voice, "Caitlin? Are you in there? Are you OK?"

Oh my God. It's not Rocco. It's Nate.

But what the hell is he doing here?

I stick my leg back inside, taking a moment to process this. "Yeah!" I call back.

"Could you open the door then?"

"Just a minute!"

I race into the bathroom, washing my face and speed-brushing my teeth. By the time I open the door, I look semi-decent.

"Oh my God!" he exclaims, eyes shooting wide at the sight of me.

"Yes, I know I'm a mess."

"No. Your face? Your eye? What happened?"

"Huh? Oh ... nothing. Just a stupid accident."

He blinks at me, unconvinced.

"I dropped my phone on my face." That actually did happen once, so it doesn't feel like a complete lie.

"Is your phone made of concrete?"

"Very funny." I stop then, remembering that he is my boss. "Um, so, you're here."

"Yes, you haven't been into work for four days now."

"How did you get my address?"

"Company records."

"This feels like it qualifies as invasion of privacy, though."

"Oh, so you can come to my place, but I can't come to yours?"

"It's different."

"How so?"

"You're my boss."

"Not right now. Right now, I'm just a guy who'd really like it if you invited him in?"

I step back, allowing him to enter. I pause for a minute as I watch him survey the apartment, taking in his lean, lithe figure donning a trench coat that makes him look even taller than he really is. "Here," I offer, taking the coat off his shoulders.

"Thanks," he says, a glint in his eye.

"I was expecting it to be Armani," I remark, before hanging it up.

"James wears the Armani these days."

"So how does it feel to just wear regular clothes?"

"I get less worried about spilling something on it, so that's good." He pauses, taking another look around. "You live here alone?"

I nod.

"Seems like a large apartment for one person."

"I like space."

"And keeping it spartan apparently."

"I just cleaned out a lot of stuff, so yes, my apartment looks a little ... empty." I wander over to the fridge, pulling out a drink for him, but he shakes his head.