The Boss's Nine-Month Negotiation. Maya Blake

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       CHAPTER ONE

      SIENNA NEWMAN STEPPED out of the shower, finished drying off and eased her black hair from the tight bun it’d been in all day. Swiping her hand across the steamed-up vanity mirror, she couldn’t resist smiling at herself.

      Sister Margaret from the orphanage where Sienna had spent most of her childhood had often told her to count her blessings. Of course, counting those blessings while smiling goofily at herself in the mirror would’ve been met with a frown. The orphanage matriarch certainly wouldn’t have approved of the illicitly carnal thrill that went through her as she smoothed expensive and luxurious lotion over her skin, her senses revving up in anticipation of what the evening ahead held for her. It was a good thing therefore that Sister M, as the children had referred to her, wasn’t here to see this tiny fall from grace. Because, even with the old biddy’s beady eyes on her, Sienna didn’t think she could’ve stopped smiling.

      Today, her twenty-eighth birthday had started in spectacular style. Four giant bouquets of calla lilies and white roses, her favourite flowers, had been delivered to her desk on the hour between nine o’clock and midday, each time with a jaw-dropping present wrapped in white silk paper and black velvet bows. The stunning beauty of the diamond tennis bracelet delivered at eleven o’clock had only been topped by the magnificent sapphire teardrop necklace with matching earrings at midday. But even more special than all the presents had been the handwritten notes from Emiliano accompanying each gift. The scrawls had been as bold and domineering as the man, nowhere near flowery, but the intimate words of desire and felicitation had touched her deeply.

      The afternoon had taken a different but nevertheless incredible turn, with culinary delights from edible-gold-dusted chocolate to caviar to a single pink-and-silver frosted cupcake with a lit candle for her to wish on and blow out.

      She’d made a wish all right. One that had stealthily sprung into her heart and taken root about three months ago, around the time it had dawned on her that she’d been in a relationship with a hitherto unattainable man for almost a year.

      Extreme self-preservation born of painful past experiences had fuelled her need to ignore the growing wish, but with each day that passed she’d began to hope rejection wasn’t on the cards for her this time, as it had so often been.

      As Sienna re-entered the bedroom, her smile dimmed a touch.

      The only slight downside to her fantastic day had been the need to once more be evasive in the face of interest from colleagues about her love life and the knowledge that, although his extravagant birthday surprises had been thrilling to experience, Emiliano had once again run roughshod over her need to keep their relationship private.

      The last time she’d touched on the subject, they’d rowed, Emiliano’s Latin temper erupting in a torrent that had included his adamant refusal to ‘skulk around in shadows’ or ‘pretend I’m not into you when we’re in public.’

      After a heated back-and-forth on the subject they’d retreated to the not-so-neutral zone of their bedroom, where he’d expressed his extreme displeasure passionately.

      Sienna blushed in recollection, but her smile remained elusive, her heart skidding again as a different issue interrupted her happiness.

      Another thing that would’ve made her birthday perfect was Emiliano’s presence. Or, barring that, a simple phone call.

      All she’d received was an email wishing her happy birthday and a single line to say he was aboard his plane, flying back home from Argentina. Although she’d been relieved that the unexpected extension of his overseas trip by four more days was finally over, she’d yearned to hear his voice. So much so, she’d called him straight back the moment she’d got home, only to have her call go to voicemail. Same as most of her calls the last three days. The one time he’d picked up, he’d been brusque to the point of monosyllabic.

      She curbed the tiny spurt of anxiety and pulled on her underwear before sliding on the dress she’d shopped for for hours before discovering it in a tiny shop in Soho. The blood-red sleeveless gown showed off the slight tan she’d gained from their recent weekend away СКАЧАТЬ