Beneath the Boss: Omnibus (The Complete Collection) (4 page)

Decision made, Layla climbed out of bed and began her morning routine. She had pulled out her standard attire of a pantsuit and shirt, and stalled for a moment when she saw the skirt in her laundry. She’d never even worn the damn the thing before, only had it because some magazine article said a lady always needed a skirt. Though, she supposed, if skirts led to hot sex, she’d been missing out. The thought made her laugh and gave her the extra push to get going. By the time she’d had her coffee and was heading out the door, she almost believed everything would be okay.

••••

“G
et me Smythe on the line,” Leighton said to his secretary Dawn through the intercom.

A few moments later, she responded, “Yes, sir, I have Mr. Smythe on the line.”

“That will be all, Dawn,” he said and put the phone on hold.

Let the bastard wait
.

Leighton hadn’t slept much the night before, thoughts of Layla and Smythe plaguing him. He knew two things to be true: Layla had betrayed him, and he was going to keep fucking her. He recognized the incongruity of those two facts, hadn’t yet figured out how to balance them, but the thought of never feeling her wet heat gripping him was more unpleasant than the thought of keeping a viper in his midst. He still couldn’t quite grasp it. That he’d underestimated so much about Layla, how good it would feel to touch her, her capacity for deceit, shook him. He leaned back in his chair and picked up the phone. He couldn’t figure Layla out, but Smythe was easy.

“You’re losing your edge, Smythe,” he said without preamble. “You knew I wouldn’t let your little stunt slide, yet you tried it anyway.”

“I lost my edge a decade ago. It’s just taken this long for everyone else to realize it. And what stunt, Mr. Means? I simply offered a talented young person an opportunity.”

Leighton sneered at the phone and waited a moment before speaking to make sure there was no hint of emotion in his voice. “I don’t have time for your games. Call Layla and rescind the offer.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I told you to. And if you do, I’ll give you a reprieve.”

Leighton knew it was a bribe, hated the idea of giving Smythe anything at all, but it was the most expedient path to keep Layla close while he figured things out.

“How long of a reprieve?”

“Don’t push it, Smythe. I’ll back off, give you some time to scramble, and you’ll withdraw the offer.”

“Okay, but I don’t think Ms. Grayson will be pleased.”

Leighton couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Don’t speak of her, and do it soon.”

He hung up just as Layla walked in.

••••

“W
ho’s the object of your scorn this morning, Leighton?”

She’d decided to go for humor, but he didn’t seem amused.

“I told you to call me last night.”

Oo-kay
.

“I didn’t call because I didn’t want to talk to you.”

He looked at her sharply, ice filling his eyes.

“I wanted to make sure you were all right. And protected.”

She felt the heat of embarrassment creep up her neck and covered it with abrasiveness. “Don’t worry, Leighton, you won’t have any little brown Means baby coming to shame the family name.”

She regretted the words as soon as they were out.

“That was low, and you know it.”

She looked him directly in the eyes. “I do. I’m sorry.”

She walked across the office and settled in the seat in front of his desk.

“Fine. Let’s drop it,” he said.

“But shouldn’t we—”

“Drop it, Layla. We have a lot to do today, and I don’t want you distracted. I’m leaving town until Saturday, but I’ll come over when I get back, and then we can talk.”

“I took another job. I’m leaving.”

That seemed to get to him.

“Then way are you here?” he said, voice low and dangerous.

She didn’t have an answer.

••••

L
ater that afternoon, safely ensconced in her office, Layla thought back on the day. After the initial discomfort, she and Leighton had fallen into their old rhythm, her the dutiful employee, he the boss. By mutual, and silent, agreement, she and Leighton hadn’t discussed the previous night. But Layla knew what lay underneath his suit now, had felt Leighton inside her, seen the heat of attraction in his eyes, directed at her no less, and despite the circumstances, she couldn’t deny the power of the encounter. Something that both terrified and pleased her. She knew how easy—and harmful—it would be to just pick back up where they’d left off, but she couldn’t deny how happy she was to know they still had some of their old bond. No matter how twisted it actually was.

Layla stood and stretched, trying to clear thoughts of Leighton, suppress memories of the feel of his hard body pressed against her much-softer one. Her core clenched, and she tried to ignore the low hum of arousal that was spreading through her. Clearly she was getting nowhere, and she needed a distraction.

Layla grabbed her bag and retreated to the one person she knew would make her feel better.

“I
t’s about damn time,” said Marla Hampton.

Layla gave her friend what she knew was a quizzical look. “You aren’t exactly a member of the Leighton Means Fan Club,” Layla said.

“But you are,” Marla tossed back, “and if smutty office sex is what it takes to get him out of your system, I’m all for it. And besides, you’re too young to spend all your time working or sitting at home, and, as execrable as he is, Leighton Meanie is nothing if not hot.”

Layla snapped her mouth shut and could feel the heat rushing over her face. “Marla...” she stammered.

“Don’t ‘Marla’ me. I’m just telling the truth. You spend night and day with that man, catering to his every whim, while denying your own. You have so much potential, so much to offer the world, and you used to dream, talk about all the things you’d do if you had a chance. And you know what happened?”

“No doubt you’ll tell me, “ Layla said with a snort, which earned her a sharp look of reprimand.

Marla’s brown eyes softened and took on a wistful look.

“I love you, Layla,” she said. “I love you like you’re my own, promised to look after you, and we both know if Francis was here, she’d tell you the same thing.”

Layla’s heart dropped a bit at the mention of her mother. It’d been a couple of years, but the hurt was still fresh. She could see the same was true for Marla as well, her brown eyes slightly watering and a flush creeping up her cheeks. Marla and her mother Francis has been friends long before Layla had been born. No easy feat for a black woman and a white woman in Texas back then, but they’d stuck together through everything: marriages, divorces, kids, work. And after, Marla had refused to let Layla go, had stepped right in, not ever attempting to replace her mother, but always providing shoulder she could cry on, someone she could turn to. Marla, her daughter Lisa, or Squeak as she was most often called, and Marla’s three sons were the closest thing to family Layla had.

And Marla was a damned good baker too, which was why Layla was currently leaning against the cash register at her shop scarfing down a chocolate croissant while Marla extolled the virtues of “smutty office sex”—she’d need to bleach her brain to erase the imagine of the sixty-five-year-old grandmother saying those words—and attacked her choice of employment.

“I’m not attacking you, sweetie” Marla said.

“I didn’t say that!”

“Layla Grayson, I’ve known you longer than you’ve known yourself. I think I can tell when you’re feeling attacked. Don’t, baby. I want you to have everything you want and deserve, so don’t be embarrassed about taking a little pleasure where you can find it.”

“Oh, God, Marla, he’s my boss. Well, sorta ex-boss, maybe.”

“What?” Marla raised a brow. “What is this about ex?”

Layla sighed heavily and discarded the remains of her croissant.

“Well, right before our...tryst, I kinda told Leighton I was taking another job.”

“Ooh! The plot thickens. These old bones need to sit for this,” Marla said, glee animating her entire body.

“So dramatic!” Layla rolled her eyes. “Anyway, one of Leighton’s competitors offered me a job running his micro-finance fund.”

“That’s amazing! You’ve been talking about doing more community-focused work for years. Oh, but let me guess, Meanie doesn’t like the idea.”

“Don’t call him that. And no, he was displeased.”

“He’s a bigger bastard than I thought.” Marla shot up from her seat.

“What are you talking about?”

“That fucker—excuse my language—took advantage of your feelings to keep you from leaving. Oh, what an asshole. You should sue his pants off.”

“No one’s suing anyone, Marla. And what feelings? I don’t have feelings for Leighton.” Layla said the words with a confidence she didn’t feel, and Marla’s skeptical expression made it clear she wasn’t buying it either.

“Of course you don’t, dear. You just give yourself to any old swinging Richard that happens by, right?”

“Well, no, but there were extenuating circumstances. Things were tense and just got out of hand.”

“Layla, you don’t believe that, and I know that putz doesn’t either. You know what I think? I think, on some level, that”— Marla paused at Layla’s sharp look— “nice young man believes if he gives you a few crumbs, it’ll be enough to keep you right where you are, right under his thumb.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. I’m really good at my job, but so are lots of people. Leighton doesn’t need me, certainly not enough to go to those lengths.”

“You see what you want, sweetie, but from over here, he’s got a nice setup. A dedicated, loyal employee who feels indebted to him and ain’t too hard on the eyes either. What’s not to like?”

She tried to smile, but it fell flat. “You just love me. It’s clouding your opinion. As far as looks go, I’m so far out of his league, I doubt he even sees me.”

“Which is why he had sex with you yesterday.”

Marla raised her hands in surrender at Layla’s exaggerated sigh.

“And I am indebted. For what he’s done for me, for what he did for Ma. I can never repay him.”

“I’m certain he wants you to feel that way. Look, honey, you’re an adult, you make your own decisions, but be careful, okay? If you want to continue this thing with Leighton, then fine, you deserve to have some fun. But don’t let him make you lose sight of everything else. I know you don’t believe me, but he didn’t make you, and you don’t owe him anything, least of all your love.”

And with that, Marla left to serve the customers who’d just walked in.

M
arla’s words still weighed heavy on Layla’s mind that Saturday as she ran errands, and she had to acknowledge that Marla had hit closer to home than she was comfortable with. Though she hadn’t seen Leighton for the remainder of the week, her mind was a jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. But out of that morass, she’d determined that she wanted Leighton, and that she couldn’t work for him anymore. Two indisputable facts that were totally incompatible, each a different but no less certain path to her doom. She could sleep with him, knowing the price was the death of dream and eventually the loss of her heart. She could quit and destroy one of the most important relationships in her life. And leave an angry Leighton hell-bent on punishing her, unwilling to stop, she knew, until she had nothing.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Ma, I wish you were here.

She tried to pull herself together. She’d faced challenges before. She could do this.

She turned onto her street and almost turned right back around when she saw the $200,000 sports car parked in her driveway—in her spot no less. The car was beautiful, as was the man behind the wheel, though the pissed-off glare he shot her when their gazes met through the window gave him an edge of danger.

She wasn’t altogether surprised to see him, though she’d hoped she wouldn’t. She was too raw to think clearly around him, and the rush of awareness that sizzled through her at the sight of the broad expanse of his back as he got out of the car proved as much.

She parked on the curb in front of the house and got out of the car.

“Who wears a suit on Saturday, Leighton?”

He didn’t say anything, just watched and waited as she walked up the driveway to unlock the door, but, as seemed to be the case recently, his disproval was clear.

“Please come in, Leighton,” she said in a sarcastic tone and ushered him into the house.

She dropped her keys and purse, removed her shoes, anxious to shift her focus from the alien feeling of Leighton in her home. Strange, but in all the years she’d known him, he’d never been to her house. In fact, she wasn’t even sure he’d known where she lived.

She turned to face him and said, “How did you—”

His lips, pressing down insistently on her own, cut off her words. He kissed her hard and deeply, forcing her to yield to his command.

He pulled back as abruptly as he’d started. “Why weren’t you here earlier? You knew I was coming.” His tone was even, but she felt the tightening of his arms around her waist.

Layla’s mind was fuzzy from his kiss, but his words brought her to full alertness. She tried to pull herself from his hold. He was unyielding. She looked into his gray gaze, and as the moment stretched, Layla slowly inclined her head and stood on her tiptoes, a rare experience for a woman of her stature, and captured Leighton’s lips with her own. She felt his confusion and smiled, happy to have the upper hand for once.

Her advantage was brief.

Leighton quickly took control, thrusting his tongue between her lips and pushing her against the foyer wall, lifting his left hand to her neck, while roaming his right over her back and ass. She was helpless in the face of his onslaught, and she heaved a deep sigh as she grabbed handfuls of his shirt and lifted her hips, trying to get closer, her pussy aching at the emptiness. He rewarded her by rocking against her, and she lifted her leg to his hip. He grabbed it and held her generous thigh as he traced a pattern against her skin through the fabric, mimicking the action with his tongue in her mouth that she wanted him to make with his cock in her cunt.