Page 46 of Lying to the Boss

Three beers in and Lane has loosened up.

I’ve never seen him drink beer before, and I wonder if he’s always like this when he drinks it. Typically, he gets scotch or something similar, and it never seems to affect him.

His tie is loose around his neck, his shirt slightly rumpled, and I don’t even know how it got that way. The man is always so put together. Refined. Polished. I do like him like that, I’ll admit.

But like this?

There’s something about this look, like his feathers have been ruffled, that suits him—and is really turning me on.

We stay at the restaurant for a couple of hours, drinking beer after beer. Our plates are cleaned—both having big, juicy burgers, which I enjoyed watching him eat. I don’t think I’ve seen him eat anything with his hands before. It’s always with a fork, knife, and spoon.

“Who knew you had it in you?” I say.

My cheeks are warm, and I feel the alcohol swimming through my veins. My head is light, and everything is just… good.

“I did,” he says. “I’ve just… soured a bit with age.”

“You’re not sour. Just a little boring.”

He gasps, placing his hand over his chest. “You wound me.”

I laugh again, reaching for my beer… that’s empty. I look at it confused because when did that happen?

“Do you want another?” he asks.

I blink a few times to clear my vision, but it’s still slightly blurry. That’s when I know I’ve probably had too much.

“Maybe. But not here.”

“You want to wreak havoc on the town?”

I laugh again and shake my head.

“I was thinking more like your place.”

Nodding approvingly, he says, “It is only about fifteen minutes from here.”

I frown, thinking over that first night. “I remember the drive being much more than that. Like forty-five? I didn’t have that much to drink.”

“My other place,” he says.

“Oh, right. That one.”

I vaguely recall him mentioning another place. A penthouse in the city that he doesn’t take anyone to. Yet… he wants to take me?

He reaches for his wallet and pulls out his credit card. “I shouldn’t drive, though.”

“I’ll get us a car.”

“No,” he says firmly. “I have a driver.”

“Okay.” I put my phone down carefully. “Spoil me then.” I lean back, cross my arms, and smile at him.

“I’m trying,” he says, his voice rough.

His card drops to the table, the sound hits like a weight to my chest. Everything that’s happened over the last couple of months comes crashing down, and I have this visceral realization of what’s going on here.

I’ve realized a lot about Lane recently, but this… this is my own realization.