All Chapters of Mr. Bossy Billioanaire and I: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Lunch time at the JC building cafeteria."So, how's the interview?" Eva asked before sipping her juice.Amaya rolled her eyes. "Allen told me to come back after lunch to see the Boss and that he would also prefer someone who speaks Chinese or Japanese.""Wow! I didn't know the big boss was that picky.""And it didn’t say that in the advertisement," Amaya pointed out. "And you didn’t mention it when we spoke on the telephone either.""Come on, how would I know? Mr. Johnson, the big boss—he doesn't like to put too many specifications in the advertisements for one reason, and I rather agree.” Eva gave a small sniff.Well, there wasn’t much Amaya could say to that—clearly, at first glance, it had been decided that she wasn’t the right person for the job.Even though it had been an impossible dream, now that she had glimpsed it, Amaya wanted it.The salary was to die for—Tommy’s needs and her small apartment rent were due.Allen had explained during their initial interview that Mr. Johnson's

The minute the voice spoke, Amaya shivered. Her domineering boss stepped into the already-full meeting area, and her jaw slacked. It fell to the floor, and she swore she saw some mischief in his eyes as he looked at her and repeated, "Who is engaged?" Standing at the door was the man who’d done unholy things to her body six years ago, looking no less godlike than he had that night, with one exception—now he looked a whole lot scarier as he raised his brow at her. Chase wore pale grey slacks that seemed like they’d been sewn directly onto his body, a white tailored shirt, and a formidable scowl. He looked ready to behead Amaya and feed her limbs to the crowd of people who’d gathered around him. Beside him was a dark-haired man an inch shorter than he was. Justin. He had small, black, vacant eyes—the opposite of Chase’s deep indigo. But they had the same disapproving frown that made her feel like the dirt under their Bolvaint shoes. And probably the same amount of authority to fire you

The next day at six-fifty in the evening...And where, Amaya thought, am I? Still in the office. She was the last man standing. Or sitting, in actual fact. At her desk, with the computer flickering in front of her and profit and loss columns demanding attention. Not immediate attention—nothing that couldn’t wait until the following morning—but..."Jesus, what the hell am I doing here?" She sighed and sat back, stretching out the knots in her shoulders, and for a few minutes allowed herself to get lost in thought. She already called Tommy and the babysitter about doing overtime, and she swore her baby was disappointed.She knew where she should be right now—and it wasn’t in the office. Even if it was a very nice office in a more-than-very-nice building in the prestigious heart of Rome,In fact, she should be anywhere but here. To her son, watching Paw Patrol and eating cookies.Then she should be out enjoying herself when Tommy goes to sleep; she should be lazing around in the park with

"I'm not comfortable with you asking me some personal questions, Mr. Johnson," Amaya said as she looked around her at her neat space, in which she felt so safely cocooned. These four small walls of her cubicle were tangible proof of how far she’d come and how quickly—tangible proof of the solid income that marked her steps along that road called financial security.Her son had begged if he could visit her place of work, but Amaya had tactfully, and a little shamefully, killed the suggestion before it could take shape. She feared what might happen if Chase saw her son—what if he recognised him?"Why? I'm merely asking so I can drop you off; the bus at this hour is—""I can handle myself; the bus is always busy, but I managed for the past two weeks. Thanks for the offer." She shoved her work laptop into a leather briefcase and reached for the grey jacket she had slung over the back of her chair.Grey jacket, grey calf-length skirt, flat, sensible patent pumps, and, yes, definitely tight

"Nothing… I just remember something," he sighed and looked at her like he was so bored and that her existence doesn't matter, "Miss Patterson, this is Gary's future we’re talking about; surely, he is your friend, and you care about him?" Chase’s keen eyes had noted all her little defence mechanisms: the way her lips had pursed, the tension in her shoulders, the buttoning of the jacket. "You wouldn’t want to write it off in a five-minute summary just because you happen to have a hot date for the evening, would you?""Oh God, I don’t have a hot date. I merely promised my son to rewatch his favourite movie!"The words left her mouth before she could drag them back, and it was no big deal, but she still felt suddenly vulnerable and exposed. Her cheeks were burning as curious eyes lingered on her face. "I mean…" she gamely went on, even though she knew she should just shut up because now he was staring at her with even more curiosity. "I often take work home with me. There’s a lot to get t