Page 16 of Grumpy Boss in Love
Elliot’s eyebrows crinkled more than they usually did. “You still work at that place?”
That place.He was so judgemental. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but a measly intern income from your company will hardly keep a roof over my head. And Rusty is dying, so that’s another expense…”
Elliot blew out a breath. “I see. I’ll take you home. Get in,” he nodded to his fancy car.
“No thanks. There’s a bus stop near here.”
“Ruby, it’s getting dark.”
“I’m aware. Thanks, Mr. Westwood. Good night.”
“I’m not leaving you here. Get. In.” He gestured to his vehicle.
Gritting my teeth, I glanced around the parking lot.
“Looking for someone?” Elliot asked.
“Yes,” I hissed. “I don’t want to be seen getting into the boss’s car, okay? You’ve caused enough problems for me.”
“Excuse me?”
I gave him a dirty look before walking away to grab my handbag and lock up my car. I’d have to deal with getting it to a garage tomorrow because I really didn’t want to be late for work tonight. That was the only reason I gave in to Elliot’s offer. I hated that Prince Westwood was going to see where I lived.
When I was settled in the back seat of the luxury vehicle, I rattled off my address to the driver as Elliot slid in beside me and pressed a button. A black partition rolled up, blocking out the driver. “That wasn’t necessary,” I told him, scooting over to put more distance between us.
“It is because you’re going to tell me what you meant about me causing you problems.” He pressed another button. “Soundproof.”
I rolled my eyes. “You can’torderme to answer questions. It’s after work hours, so your bossiness is ineffective… until Monday at eight a.m. And you can’t threaten to fire me again, either.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Oh, he knows how to apologize.” I glared at him. “Shocking.”
Elliot’s eyes narrowed on me. “I was having a bad morning.”
“You and me both, but that’s no excuse for being a dick.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“What? You’re not my professor anymore. It’s not like you can report me for telling thetruth.”
His jaw clenched, and his eyebrows furrowed, but then his expression relaxed and he regarded me with curiosity. “You’ve kept my secret. Why?”
“What would I have to gain from blabbing about you moonlighting as a professor? Honestly, I don’t see it as a big deal.”
“Others would, and you could sell the story to the press.”
“I hate to break it to you, Mr. Westwood.”
“Elliot.”
I ignored him. “But I have bigger things to worry about than your struggles to hide from the world.”
“That’s what you think I’m doing?”