Boss I Love to Hate: An Office Romance(38)

Brad

There were many things I’d been noticing about Sonia lately. One of which was that she fidgeted way too much. Her knee bounced beside me as the priest in the front went over what would be happening today, a mirror of tomorrow. He explained the logistics, how people should walk in, where they should stand, and the order of events of the wedding. All during which anxiety poured out of Sonia in roller coaster waves.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Relax.”

I placed my hand on her bare knee to still her, and she gripped my hand with so much force that her strength surprised me.

“I know.” But the quiver in her voice told me she wouldn’t be relaxing anytime soon. “I hate public speaking.” She gnawed at her bottom lip, and her eyes flitted to the priest, to the bride and groom, and to the podium where she was going to speak.

When it was time for the second reading, Sonia stood and then straightened her skirt. She walked to the podium with her head down and her hands fidgeting with the sides of her skirt. It was as if she wanted to disappear. Why hadn’t I noticed this before? At work, she seemed so sure of herself, confident.

Sonia adjusted the mic, which screeched, and her cheeks reddened. Then, she paused, lifted her head, and recited the Bible verse, her voice steady, strong, and slow enough for others to understand.

And, just like that, Sonia had stepped up to the plate, confidence back in her tone and the set of her shoulders. This was the girl I knew.

When she sat down, I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You were amazing.”

She peered up at me with that adorable little pout. “Thanks.”

Her body sagged against me as though she was glad that it was all over, and she scrunched her nose in the cutest way. As I wrapped an arm around her, I got the oddest sensation in the middle of my chest—an unrecognizable feeling, a lightness. The first thing that popped into my head was the story I had told Mary, about a prince saving Princess Sonia—because Mary had insisted that I name the princess Sonia in my nightly fairy tale.

I leaned in closer, and though every ounce of sanity was telling me I shouldn’t and that I should keep my distance and that she was my secretary, I couldn’t stop the urge to be near her.

An hour and a half later, we were at Gino’s East pizzeria in a private room reserved for the wedding party.

“So …” Ava said, eyes wide. “It’s great that you’re doing this for Sonia. Being her date and all. Jeff is an ass. I never liked him, but Sonia seemed to be so damn in love. He’s a jerk for leaving her, and that Barbie chick—whoever she is—is not cute. At all. Fake boobs, Botox lips, fake eyelashes. It’s the opposite of Sonia, who screams all-natural beauty.”

I never knew a woman who could talk as much as Mary, but Ava had my niece beat. Her mouth was like a machine gun, shooting words at full speed. I doubted I could get a word in, so I nodded and tipped back my beer.

My gaze drifted back to Sonia across the room, by the bar. She was surrounded by four girls, all stealing glances my way. Sonia’s cheeks turned a crimson red, and I could only imagine what they were grilling her about. Maybe they’d made up stories about our after-work bedroom activities. Maybe Sonia had bragged about me and my skills after hours, but as she ducked her head, focused her stare on the floor, and dug the toe of her boot into the ground, my smile slipped. Once the bartender set down her drink, she grabbed it and stalked my way.

“Excuse me,” I said to Ava.

I met Sonia halfway and wrapped an arm around her waist against my better judgment—again. “So, what were you talking about over there?” I tipped my head toward the girls still gawking at us.

She blinked up at me, and her forehead wrinkled. “Nothing.”

I lifted her chin to meet my eyes. “With women, I know nothing means something. Spill.”

“They want to know if you’re single.” She peered behind her and then shook her head. “The nerve, right?” She teetered back and forth in her boots, gripping the glass of whatever she was drinking too tightly within her fingertips.

What fucking nerve was right. “Nice friends you have there.” My body tensed, the muscles in my forearms going rigid.

“They’re not my friends, not my real friends. They’re acquaintances, and right now, they’re annoying the hell out of me.” She tipped back her drink and swallowed three full gulps. “How are they going to ask me that? I came here with you.” Her expression pinched.

The women continued to whisper among themselves across the room. One of them raised a flirty hand in greeting, beyond disrespectful. They didn’t care, but I sure as hell did. I slipped my arms around Sonia’s waist and brought her close, nuzzling her neck, and the sweet scent of her hit me. My heartbeat picked up in speed, like an adrenaline rush, and I wasn’t prepared for the shock of my body reacting to being so close to her.

What was that scent? Apples? Something sweet, not perfume. I angled closer, getting a deeper sniff, and a sudden urge to bite her in the most tender part of her skin—between her ear and her shoulder—pushed through.

I restrained myself before whispering, “Who am I? Your boyfriend? To them, I mean.” My nose grazed the shell of her ear, and she shivered. “If you want them to stop looking, you have to play the part.” My gaze lingered on her throat, and my hands went to the soft curves of her hips.