Page 32 of Boss from Hell

He opened the door to our suite.

“Where would you like these?” he asked.

"We’ll take it from here," I said and slipped him a good tip.

He placed our bags on the floor, thanked me profusely, and left.

I turned to Lillian. "Do you want to freshen up before dinner?"

She walked slowly into the suite, looking around at the tall windows with stunning views of the city below us. Then her gaze returned to me. She contemplated me for a few seconds before she spoke.

"I thought you were having dinner with Klaus Minsky.”

“I cancelled it.”

“Why?” Her voice was soft, curious, but strangely distant.

“Because I’m taking you out to dinner instead.”

She stared at me. “Why?”

“There’s a saying, fuck around and find out. You fucked around on a grown-ass man’s bed, Lillian. And now you’re about to find out.” I walked towards her and stopped very close to her, “The real question is, do you want to find out now or after dinner?”

“I’ll freshen up for dinner,” she murmured, taking a step back from me.

“And tomorrow… are you still meeting Jed Burner?”

"Of course. Tomorrow lunchtime. It'll give you time off to look around the city."

She chewed her bottom lip reflexively. “Which one is my room?”

“You can put your stuff over in that room, but you’re sleeping in the master bedroom... with me.”

Her cheeks flushed with color, but she said nothing as she grabbed her weekend bag and walked across the sitting room to the first door.

As it closed behind her, my muscles relaxed and I grinned like a fool. Everything was going according to plan. I took the opportunity to check my emails and respond to a few. When Lillian emerged from her room, she was dressed in a simple but elegant black dress which stopped just above her knees. Damn, she looked good enough to eat.

"Are you wearing panties?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied, her cheeks becoming rosy.

“Take them off and give them to me,” I instructed, holding my hand out.

She wanted to say something, but she clamped her mouth shut instead and wordlessly pulled them off. Looking me in the eyes she dropped them into the palm of my hand. I stuffed them into my jacket pocket.

“Shall we?” I said, indicating we should leave.

We never spoke as we made our way to the restaurant. We were shown to a nice table in an alcove that looked out to a well-lit Japanese garden. I ordered a bottle of champagne. A waiter came back surprisingly fast. He carefully filled our flutes and withdrew.

I raised my glass to her.

“What are we celebrating?” she asked quietly.

I smiled slowly at her. “We’re celebrating us.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Us? Is there an us?”

I nodded. “There is an us. I’ll show you later.”