Older Hotter Grumpier: an Age Gap Instalove Stalker Romance (Grumpy Bosses) by Evie Rose

Author:Evie Rose [Rose, Evie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-10T16:00:00+00:00

7

ELLA

If you’d told me this morning I’d be turned on by my boss discussing hot beverages, I’d have… Alright, that figures. Everything Rafe does makes me burn with desire. But that conversation was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before with Rafe or anyone else.

Hilarious, embarrassing, sweet. The heated look in my boss’ eyes when he realised what I was telling him. Ooof.

Even the embarrassment was delicious somehow, flitting over my skin and warming me from the inside out.

Then there was Mr Blackwood teasing me, playing with me. My serious boss made an actual joke. I think. A joke-like object, anyway.

I’m not sure whether the comment about a painting to win counts as a joke, because Mr Blackwood relaxes back into his chair, arm still slung carelessly behind my shoulders as the painting I liked earlier is carried onto the stage.

“Are you going to bid?” Rafe asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

But I’m tempted. That painting of the book? I would love to own it.

“Shall we start the bidding?”

“One thousand.” Rafe’s voice, but with a cynical twist, comes from the other side of the room. It takes me a second to realise that it’s not my boss miraculously being in two places at once, but from Sev, who’s even more dangerous and more complex than he is.

My heart stops. Despite what I said, I was kinda hoping that the bidding would stay low, and I’d have a chance. A hundred pounds or something. Get it for one day when I have a closet-sized space of my own in London and it can take up the whole of a wall. I’d hang it over the window, would save on curtains. But yikes. Apparently, charity art by teenagers is as outside of my budget as housing is.

“Want to bid for me?” Rafe says, and smiles when I snap my head around in disbelief.

“How would I know when to stop?” A thousand pounds is a lot of money.

“Here.” He takes my hand in his, wrapping his fingers over mine. “I’ll let you go when the price gets too high.”

“A generous opening bid,” the art teacher is saying. “Anyone else?”

“Say ten thousand,” Rafe murmurs.

“I can’t bid that much! That’s madness. You don’t even want it!” It’s me who likes this painting, not him.

“I’ll find a place for it.”

“Two thousand,” says another voice.

“Three.”

The price is getting crazy before I’ve bid, and continues in the background.

Rafe’s hand is warm and comforting, and for a second, I let myself dream that this isn’t a lie. Maybe he cares for me, and we’re here because that’s what we do. As a couple, we hold hands, and buy art, and spend evenings together. Tell silly jokes and make babies.

And suddenly I want that painting so badly my chest aches. Even if it ends up in some random corner of the office, I could visit it, right? I could look at it and remember how for one evening, I was Mr Blackwood’s fake fiancée and basked in the glow of his pretend love.

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