Page 39 of Handle Me

“Has it ever occurred to you that you don’t have to fix everyone else’s problems, boss?”

“That’s not what I’m doing, but if you don’t want to take me to check on Clara, then I can take a cab.” I reached for my safety belt.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned me.

“Or what?”

“Or the next time I get you alone, I will fuck you until you forget all your stupid rules.”

I swallowed but refused to give any ground. “I guess you won’t be getting me alone anytime soon.”

“We’ll see about that. Maybe I’ll just fuck you until it knocks your priorities into place,” he said through gritted teeth, pulling back onto the road.

“There is nothing wrong with my priorities.”

“Sure.” Anders kept his eyes on the road. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. “Whatever you want to tell yourself.”

“Screw you,” I hissed.

His quiet laugh sent goosebumps shivering across my body. “Boss, you already did.”

It was a good thing we were on our way to the hospital because he was going to need one. Neither of us said another word until we reached St. Mary’s.

“Around back,” I told him. “There’s a private entrance.”

“Of course there is,” he muttered, but he followed my instructions.

I fumed as he spoke with the security guard and then parked the car. But when he turned off the engine, I rounded on him. “Look, this is what’s going to happen. You’re going down to the shop and buying flowers for your new niece or nephew. Then you’re going to come upstairs and be polite to your brother and the rest of the family. And so help me God, you will tell Clara she looks pretty even if she looks like she just came out of a war zone. Is that clear?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and then, without warning, he grabbed me and crushed his mouth to mine in a savage kiss. Surprise overcame any resistance, and I found myself being pulled back to the suite at the Whidbury. Anders forced my mouth open, claiming my tongue until I’d forgotten where we were or what I’d been saying.

The second he drew away, it all came rushing back, and I glared at him, raising my fingers to my swollen lips. “You just broke rule number 6—”

“Starts when we get out of this car,” he growled. “Now if—”

I opened my door and slid out before he could finish his sentence. He could amend the rules all he wanted, but I wasn’t going to wait around to see how far he was going to push my limits. It was bad enough that paparazzi were camped only a few hundred meters from here. He didn’t have to try to get us caught.

Anders followed me out, catching up with me quickly. My breath hitched as he got closer, half expecting him to pull something else. Would he push me against a wall? Would he hike my skirt up and remind me that only a few hours ago, I’d been riding his cock? But he simply fell into step beside me.

We didn’t say a word as we got into the lift. I pushed the button for the lobby, and we rode in silence until the doors opened.

Anders stepped out and then turned a cold look at me. “Coming?”

“Flowers,” I said without meeting his gaze and hit the button for the private floor where Clara planned to give birth. But before the lift doors slid closed, Anders stopped them with his palm.

“Make sure you stop on whatever floor does surgeries, so you can get them to remove that stick up your arse, boss.”

My mouth fell open as he stepped away, smirking, and let the doors close.

By the time I reached my floor, I was absolutely sure of two things.

The first was that Anderson Stone was the best sex I’d ever had, and none of my other lovers even came close. The second was that I absolutely hated him.

The lift opened to reveal a waiting room full of worried faces. I rushed toward my mother for an update.

Madeline Bishop could be a tad dramatic, so when she looked up at me and her face fell, my heart stopped. Next to her, my father rubbed her shoulders consolingly.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered. There were too many people here for this to be normal. Something was up. In the corner, I spotted Smith Price, my business partner’s husband, talking quietly with one of the family’s head security officers, Brexton Miles. They both wore grim expressions and what looked like tactical gear. Something wasn’t just up. Something was wrong. I whipped around to press my mother for details, but she was studying me with a sour expression.