One Bossy Disaster Read Online Nicole Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement1

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“Sorry,” I grind out. “That was damn inappropriate, Miss Lancaster.”

I stand and stride away from her, adjusting the bulge in my pants as I go.

I don’t want to look at her now.

Will she be gone in the morning, leaving a mess of tears and new hell posts online? Joining the chorus of people who already think I’m a predatory shithead?

And after what I just pulled, I wonder if I am.

I’m hardly innocent.

Still, she has to know.

She must know I brought her into the fold for a charity gig intended to brighten the company’s reputation, and nothing more.

It certainly wasn’t to fucking kiss her face off like a goat hopped up on blue pills.

Doesn’t matter that she wanted it, too—or maybe the fact that she does just makes it worse.

“Wait!” she calls after me shrilly. “Foster!”

I move faster, away from that blinding firelight and into the darkness where I can try to find my wits again and tether them down.

“Shepherd.” She chases after me. “Wait, just so you know... I’m not upset. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Didn’t I?

I whip around and glare at her.

Why can’t she understand?

I can’t do this, even if she’s made it crystal fucking clear it’s consensual.

Especially not if she wants this just as bad as I do.

I won’t repeat my past.

I’m not trusting another pretty face, leading her into temptation, waiting for her to die because I’m that goddamned toxic.

“Shepherd... at least say something,” she pleads.

“Get some sleep,” I growl over my shoulder. “We have a long day ahead—if we still have one at all.”

She halts just past the circle of stones around the fire.

“I mean, of course. Shepherd?”

“Go to bed, Destiny. We need to get started before sunrise.” Without waiting for an answer, I march back across to the sleeping bag I laid out before and stuff myself inside.

I zip the thick fabric up to my chin like the miserable human caterpillar I am, keeping my back to her.

Here we go again.

Silence.

Only, this time it’s like the grave.

Then I hear her cleaning the bowl that toppled over when I threw myself at her, rinsing it out with some water she’s collected.

I grit my teeth and close my eyes.

I, Shepherd Foster, am master idiot of the known universe.

A horny, impulsive, goat-brained dimwit—and apparently, I’m still led around by my cock after all these years.

What the fuck?

I’m too old for this shit.

Sighing, I wrestle my phone out and squint at the eye-killing screen.

Barely nine p.m., but the exhaustion is natural.

I’m sure Destiny feels it, too, that weight turning her bones to lead.

No more good will come from talking tonight.

My eyes drop from the time to my notifications.

That’s where I see a new text from Vanessa, asking to meet and talk this out like ‘civilized people.’

Like hell.

My lips curl into a snarl as I text back, I don’t negotiate with anyone who makes their disputes public. Never contact me again without your lawyer.

The end.

I just wish I’d grown a bigger pair and faced her games head-on, without being talked into playing my own.

I never should have agreed to Hannah’s reputation management scheme.

To Destiny, to her otter hunt, to fixing this shit with someone else intimately involved.

I’ve always been a man who handles his own problems, just like I did with Uncle Aidan and his crew when I decided I couldn’t live a life of violence and pure villainy.

One wrong move half a lifetime ago, and I could’ve wound up with a nice, clean, anonymous bullet in the back of my head.

That should be far scarier than struggling for self-control around a new pretty face.

Then why is Destiny Lancaster so damned good at leaving me petrified?

10

A Little Wonder (Destiny)

This is so not how I wanted to see the sunrise.

When Shepherd mentioned camping, I had big plans to get a few shots of the morning and evening light highlighting this beautiful place. I thought it would be great for my followers—and for me.

How often do you ever get to do something like this?

Just drop everything to go into the wilderness and live a few days synched to nature’s rhythm?

Almost never.

Not when you’re a busy adult strapped with a career, a brand, a life.

Nothing that should involve making out madly with my boss in the sand and then tossing and turning all night because of it, so wet and heart-stung I still hurt in the morning.

At least I wasn’t suffering alone.

Every time I turned over, I heard him rustling in his sleeping bag like a trapped insect.

I knew Shepherd was awake every excruciating minute, just like me.

Stuck in reliving the last twenty-four hours, plus a hundred lost chances.

Is he kicking himself for missing them like I am?

Or is he just too busy brooding like the surly, walled-off creature he is, wishing to all the gods of common sense that he never went on this otterly catastrophic trip?


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