Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 1(139)

He called her by name.

“Excellent work, Miss Reynolds.”

The heavens opened up and “Ode to Joy” became her personal soundtrack for the rest of the day.

Soon their schedules overlapped enough to become the same. A replacement never materialized—at least not in Mr. Collins’s office. When Natasha received a hefty raise she rightly assumed she wasn’t going back to IT. They eventually reached a certain unconscious comfort level with one another; enough so that Natasha knew his favorite candy bar and he knew her favorite beverage. Both of which were provided without saying extraneous words between them.

What began as a mission to usurp Mr. Collins’s power over her mind morphed into self-improvement for its own sake. Natasha learned Italian and German. She unpacked her violin, rosin, and music stand. She took classes and upped her skills as a database wizard and Excel guru. This spawned an ambition to earn her Masters degree.

Natasha improved her posture, no longer feeling the urge to slouch and minimize her height. She cut her hair. The winsome bob framed her face as beautifully as the new clothes enhanced her figure and the dark red lipstick drew attention to her full lips.

One morning after her initial shopping excursion Mr. Collins slid an envelope across the desk. Natasha was surprised to read she now had a clothing allowance. Her wardrobe appreciated it and so did her savings account.

Life was glorious.

Natasha no longer believed Mr. Collins better than her. She didn’t see him as inhabiting an unreachable tier. She recognized him for the brilliant strategist and incredibly dedicated executive he was but nothing more.

At least that was all she’d publicly admit to.

Truthfully, Natasha found Mr. Collins to be the subject of her thoughts more often than not. His cologne intoxicated her. She often wished to press her nose against his neck just to keep smelling it. His rare smile did curious things to her tummy. Natasha enjoyed watching him work. Mr. Collins had an inexhaustible supply of energy—he never seemed to tire. That observation generally led to lurid speculation of what he was like in bed which caused Natasha to mentally castigate herself.

No, Mr. Collins was her boss and not the object of her secret lust. She respected him as a colleague, a mentor, and a human being. Nothing more.

Wanting to believe that lie is where I went wrong.

Earlier in the day Natasha accompanied Mr. Collins to lunch. Somewhere between the main course and checking her phone for a critical e-mail, Mr. Collins cupped her chin, leaned in, and murmured, “Hold still, Natasha.”

The phone dropped, hit her knee, and slid beneath the table.

“You have an eyelash.” He brushed it away with the pad of his thumb before returning back to his meal.#p#分页标题#e#

Natasha’s enlightenment plunged back into the blackest hell of confusion.

Mr. Collins had just touched her. The man she had spent the better part of the last fifteen months, the person whose very existence compelled her to push past her limits, the superior who was responsible for her superstar status had just touched her. Not only had he touched her but he also did what he had never done before—he called her by her first name.

Part of me wasn’t sure he even knew it.

Natasha remained quiet and moved in a daze for the rest of the day. Every time she thought back to that tiny moment in time, her body flushed and her legs trembled. Fear and lust made a mess of her mind.

And now she was going to pay for it.



“I cannot tolerate mistakes of any kind, Natasha. Your incompetence becomes my incompetence. I am not incompetent in any way, shape, or form.”

Natasha kept her feet planted even though his quiet venom blindsided her. She should’ve known something terrible was going to happen when Mr. Collins called her into his office. His voice held a note of intensity she’d never heard before. Nimble mind racing, Natasha tried to pinpoint exactly what she did wrong and came up blank. “No, Mr. Collins.”

“Yet, you sent out company-wide correspondence from this office with an error.” He handed her a printout before returning back to his desk.

“Yes, Mr. Collins.” Natasha fought the urge to cower. She scanned over the document, looking for the unacceptable chink in her flawless record.

“Don’t you think this is what you should have done before you sent this out?”

“I am so sorry, Mr. Collins.” She zeroed in on the flaw only to see it wasn’t as disgusting as she imagined. In fact, it wasn’t even a flaw. “The semicolon.”

“Yes, the semicolon.”

Heat stained her cheeks. A relieved smile eased the paleness in her face. “I believe this is an acceptable use of the semicolon.”

The temperature dropped by several degrees. “You dare argue with me?”