The Boss (The Boss #1) Read Online Abigail Barnette

Categories Genre: BDSM, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Boss Series by Abigail Barnette
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Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 129427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
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“Oh?” I don’t know why I sounded so surprised by that. I already knew she’d been rude. “If it helps any, I’m very understanding. You could continue being rude to me, and I’d probably get over it.”

“What an odd thing to say.” She smiled, and it was actually genuine. “I like that you’re so honest.”

“No one would ever accuse Sophie of withholding the truth.” Neil said over his water glass.

I thought about Jake and Gabriella and whatever they were scheming, and my guts knotted up. Shit. I should have told him last night, exhausted or not. I resolved I would tell him as soon as possible.

“So, how did you guys meet?” Emma sat up in her chair, very straight, and said, “This is me, putting on my ‘taking an interest’ hat. So you’d better make it good.”

I’d just slid a bite of fish into my mouth, so I chewed while Neil answered. “We met at LAX. We were both on the same flight to Tokyo. It got delayed, and we... took the opportunity to get to know each other better.”

“Gross,” she said with a forced smile and a nod. Then her forehead creased with confusion. “Wait, you haven’t gone to Tokyo since we went last year. Were you and Elizabeth—”

Neil looked like a man who could see the train coming, but he just couldn’t get off the tracks in time.

Well, she’d liked my honesty before. I hoped she would still appreciate it now. “It was before they got together, actually.”

Her narrowed gaze slid to her father, who was swallowing water at a rapid rate. “Exactly how long before?”

“Six years ago. We met six years ago. I was eighteen,” I stated firmly, before Neil could try to bluff his way out of his daughter’s interrogation. Better to get it all out now, I figured. “If it makes you feel any better, I told him I was twenty-five.”

Emma pushed her plate back and slowly folded her hands in her lap. “This was a lovely salad. It’s a shame I won’t be able to finish it.”

“The way Sophie and I met...” Neil paused and released a resigned sigh. “Things happened the way they happened, and I don’t regret any of it. That’s all I can say without digging myself a deeper grave.”

I snorted. “Look, it’s weird. It’s incredibly weird. Let’s just face that fact and move on.”

“Good idea,” Emma agreed reasonably. She smoothed her napkin in her lap. She forced a smile at her dad. “Mum wanted to know if you’re coming for Christmas, and if you were, would you be bringing anyone?”

As she asked the question, her gaze slowly drifted over to me, in the most obvious way possible. Neil answered cautiously. “We... Haven’t discussed anything yet. Tell your mother I’ll talk to her this week.”

“Oh, you and Emma’s mom have Christmas together?” I don’t think my mom and dad had ever even been in the same room together after he’d left us.

“Every year,” Neil explained. “We tried to parent Emma as a team as much as possible, even after we separated.”

“That’s really cool.” My heart hurt a little. Emma was so lucky to have had a father. But it was totally weird to think of Neil in that context, at the same time. Here was a woman my age, who saw him in a completely different light than I did. A context I could never understand, because I hadn’t had a father. Maybe that’s why this felt so weird.

“I’m going to go grab my sweater,” I said, pushing back from the table. “I’ll just be second.”

I’d left my loose, comfy sweater on the counter in Neil’s bathroom. It had kind of been my escape plan, if I felt the need to get away gracefully. I’d thought it had worked, but then I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called, and quickly touched up my lip gloss in the mirror, so he’d think that’s what had taken me so long.

“I am so sorry to spring that question about Christmas on you,” Neil said as he stepped up behind me. “Valerie asked me last week. I was meaning to bring it up, but I couldn’t think of a way to do it without frightening you off.”

“It’s okay. For all you know, I don’t celebrate Christmas. I might be in a Satanic cult.”

“You could come along,” he suggested. “Stay a week at my country house. We could celebrate the new year in Paris.”

My head spun at the thought. I had only been to Paris once, and that had been on business for the magazine. I hadn’t had the chance to really enjoy the whole experience. I was dying to go back.

But Christmas with a romantic partner? That was a bit heavy, considering we’d just started seeing each other in October.

I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I turned and reached up to put my arms around his neck. “Thank you. That’s very sweet. But I’ll be spending the holiday with my family back in Michigan.”


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