1: Elise (i)

“Elise?”

I moaned at the call to my name. It was his voice… low-timber, bedroom voice, sexy. In my dream, I was in his chair, fully clothed, and yet he was looking at me as if I was naked… my mentor, my boss—technically. Just his eyes on me were making me want to writhe in blatant sexual expression. But I had to control myself. Even inside a dream, I had to. I didn’t want to lose him.

He couldn’t know how much I wanted him. 

“Elise… hey. Wake up.”

I abruptly opened my eyes. And he was there, looking down at me, but not in excitement about what he wanted to do to me because that just turned to squat as this was now real life. He was frowning down at me in irritation. Or, no. I couldn’t even call it irritation because he had never shown me that. He was the most indulgent of the strictest bosses I knew. I know because he’d spoiled me.    

He was watching me in a mixture of exasperation and tempered amusement. Grr, that was it. I always amused him. He was always secretly laughing at me.

I was staring at him, hoping desperately that the sexual tension I left in my semi-wet dream didn’t show on my stupid face. Let him think I was still out of it.

(Nothing ever happened in those dreams, anyway. And blatant sexual expression. Really? Nothing like that could shout more effectively that I was still a virgin!)

“Elise,” he called again. 

“Gian,” my reply, my voice heavy with, hopefully in his ears, sleep. Why did he also have to be the most handsome of the handsomest men I had ever met in my twenty-three years, too? Fuck me.

“Are you there?”

“Yes,” I replied again, deliberately sounding automatic. Then I straightened in my office chair. We were still in the office, changed clothes there for the party tonight to avoid traffic, and I knew we were running late. I was waiting for him because he got snagged in a phone call with a share holder. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you the first… times,” I continued in a voice that I made sure to sound still sleepy because—of course! Duh. It seemed he had been calling while he was walking out of his office door and that woke me up. It was fine, really. It wasn’t healthy thinking about your mentor the way I did just a moment ago. I knew my stand when it came to him—I was the sister he never had. Why did I know? He reminded me all the chance he got. Indulgently. As if the over-protectiveness and strictness and spoiling me weren’t enough.

But when my eyes truly focused on him, I also truly stared. 

I was already holding the back of my swivel chair for support.

I found myself gripping it harder.

I had always thought his domain in the office—this floor—was designed exactly like him: sleek and modern in its black, gray and silver theme from the walls to the paintings, to his furniture. It had pretty much kept up with the sophisticated and manly beauty of its boss. 

But tonight, Giancarlo in his party suit easily took over. 

I was seeing the most handsome and hottest version of him ever.

Every beautiful thing around us faded away from the beauty of him and he wasn’t even aware of it. He kept fiddling with something on his jacket’s sleeve while he took the last few steps towards me in the way he used to walk—long strides eating the floor, back straight and broad shoulders squared. There was something masculine and yet graceful about his steps.

My boss made sexy effortless.

He was still talking about something, so I had to really focus to hear what he was saying.

“Did I take too long?” he asked, stopping near me as he adjusted the cuff links on his left sleeve this time. When he was done, he finally looked at me.

Sleek hair combed back, squared jawline, and fair skin. He’s like a movie star about to attend a prestigious award ceremony.

I was going to wait for him to smile but I was hoping he would not because he had a straight toothpaste commercial set of teeth. I was already in trouble.

Okay, let me just say my boss was perfect, so we could get this over with.

“Sorry, I was on the phone for a while with Mr. Harris trying to explain to him—”

“It’s okay,” I butted in. I already know the tendencies of Mr. Harris to develop amnesia when his accountability for the contract he’d signed was in question.

Meanwhile, I was still staring at him, struggling to retrieve my remaining wits from where they fell. He had a small nap room in his office and a bathroom there for when he didn’t have time to go home to change for a business dinner, a party, or a date. He had his suit delivered this afternoon and he changed after his call, most probably.

And he still managed it as if he’d been getting ready in his own place, and not pressed for time.

Amazing.

“I was busy, too, reviewing in my head… I was going over what… to… what… “

“What, Elise? You were asleep.”

From his magnificently suited body, I looked up at his amused face. My cheeks grew hotter. My goodness. Always! This was the only test I couldn’t pass, and it wasn’t even his intention to test me. After two years of being his apprentice, I still get off guard by his super handsomeness. And what’s worse?

He knew it. And he didn’t mind.