Page 25 of Bronson

He takes his coat, the one I wore here, from the chair, putting it on.

She hovers annoyingly by Bronson’s shoulder. “Anything I can help you with?”

His eyes never leave mine. There is an amused smile on his face. He answers her politely. “No, thank you, just run this on my charge—she’ll be wearing it out.”

She looks deflated. “Yes, sir, Mr. Bachman.”

Giddy pleasure bubbles within me. The short brunette with the fat ass wins out over the pretty stick blonde for the ridiculously good-looking—and very wealthy—man’s attention. I slide my hands into the pockets of my new coat. Giving the girl a polite, yet clearly dismissive nod, I trill, “Thank you, Brauny. I love it so much!” I begin a little twirl to further show off my new coat but the viselike hand grips my upper arm.

It’s becoming a habit of his.

He tugs me out of her hearing range, hissing in my ear. “Brauny? Don’t you think it’s a bit much?”

“She was falling over you. I had to. I know we aren’t… together or anything but come on.” Looking up at him through my lashes, I give a pout. “Let a poor girl have her day in the sun.”

His features soften. “Fine.” He pulls me to the door. Where did he think I would run off to? Opening the door for me, he mumbles something incoherent about no one calling him such a ridiculous nickname before.

I don’t care.

I feel like a princess.

Watch out, Meghan Markle—you aren’t the only one who can rock the winter white. The smile on my face stretches so far, my cheeks start hurting.

I look to Bronson. He’s smiling too.

Wiggling my arm, I disengage it from his protective grip. Instead, I slip into the crook of his arm, linking our arms as we stroll down the sidewalk. He gives me a curious look but doesn’t pull away.

A girl can pretend.

I sashay, shaking my ass beneath my coat. Holding my head high, I pretended not to see the envious stares of the ponytails but of course I’m logging them in my memory bank for later tonight. When I remember how broke I really am, lying in my cold bed.

Am I mistaken, or has he pulled me closer to his side as we are walking? My shoulder is suddenly pressed against his arm. I sneak a glance up at him.

He looks… happy. His head is held high, as if proud to have me on his arm.

I remind myself—Bronson’s just my boss. A bossy boss who has bought me a coat because he feels sorry for me. Nothing more.

Am I absolutely loving the feeling of being linked to him? Cared for by him?

Of course.

Is he enjoying my company?

Seems so.

But that doesn’t mean he is interested in me. Not in the way that my pussy is interested in him.

We reach the store too soon, my moment in the limelight over, my pretty woman scene cut too short.

I hover by the opened door. He waits for me to go inside.

Clearing my throat, I prepare a beautiful speech that will tell him just how much his gesture means to me. “I… um… ah… thanks, Bronson.”

His eyes shine as he looks down at me. “You’re very welcome. Come back to my office. I’ll get you settled for the day and we can begin your training.”

The word training, coming from him, sounds kinky. Feeling immature, I will the blush to leave my cheeks as I say, “Okay.”

I pass by him, waving hello to Alice. Her eyes pop open wide at the sight of my coat. Her mouth forms one word, Gorgeous.