Unlocking my Boss’s Heart (Romance in Sweet Comedy #4)

13. Celia

Chapter thirteen

Celia

“ Y ou’re going to wear a rut into the carpet, Celia,” Maddison said, pausing in my bedroom doorway with a bag of nuts in hand.

I stopped pacing. “Tonight’s supposed to be a casual date. Why am I feeling so nervous and indecisive over my outfit?”

Maddison laughed, leaning against the doorframe. “You tell me. I’ve never seen you this confused for a date. If it wouldn’t cost me my entire salary, I would give him a raise for causing such a reaction.”

I scowled at my cousin. “Are you going to help me choose what to wear or just make fun of me?”

She tossed an almond into the air and caught it in her mouth. “You already picked out an outfit. Wear it.”

I glanced at the floral dress laid out on my bed. “But what if I should wear jeans instead? I don’t know where we’re going. I need to be prepared for anything.”

“Nothing will happen if you leave here dressed as you are now.”

I ignored her sarcasm. “It was my own fault. I should’ve replied to Anton’s email and asked what he had planned. I gave him two fun ideas, and he might come up with something completely different from an arcade or bowling alley.”

“Time is ticking,” she said, nonchalantly.

“What if he’s planning horseback riding? I can’t wear a dress for that.”

“Honey, we’re not in Texas. He’s not planning horseback riding at night in New York City. Wear the dress, Cel. You look cute in it.”

A quick glance at the clock made the decision for me. A few minutes later, I had blow-dried my hair, applied lip gloss and a bit of blush, and changed into the dress. I walked into the living room with a small clutch in hand.

Maddison lay on the couch, she smiled when she saw me. The dress, adorned with lilies, ended just above my knees.

“You look great,” she said. “A bit more makeup might pop your features more. Do we have time for a makeover?”

I shook my head. “No time for that.” Secretly, I was glad it was almost eight. I never did well with a lot of makeup.

“Hmm…still, you look amazing,” she said, and I didn’t doubt it.

My phone lit up and pinged with an alert. It was a text from Anton. We had finally exchanged phone numbers.

“He’s downstairs,” I announced.

Maddison beamed. “Oh, I love a punctual man. Have a good time,” she called as I stepped out into the hallway.

“Thanks,” I replied, before shutting the door.

With each step down the stairs, my stomach twisted with nerves.

Anton was leaning against a car when I got outside, different from the one I’d seen him driving before. He wore a simple polo shirt and denim jeans, his hands clasped in front of him. He looked great.

His eyes lit up when he saw me approaching, and my nervousness melted away.

“Hey.” He smiled. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks. You look great, too.”

My smile came naturally, heat crept up my neck, and I could only blame his presence.

He opened the car door for me. “Your chariot awaits,” he said with a slight bow, extending his hand to help me in.

“Thank you.” I chuckled and settled into my seat.

He rounded the car and got in beside me.

“I’m glad you’re going out with me this evening. I was tempted to invite you into my office today under the guise of discussing the Aiko Osaka case, but I had to make do with just sending you a short email.”

I blushed. “You should focus on work at the office.”

I adjusted my scarf to cool the heat on my neck.

“Hmm, I should,” he said teasingly, his attention mostly on the road but with occasional glances at me.

I cleared my throat, eager to change the topic. “Where are we going?”

“Jet’s Bowling. It’s only a few minutes away if we can beat the traffic.”

Maddison was right, I worried for nothing. His choice was perfect—except for the above-the-knee dress I was wearing. Hopefully, I wouldn’t embarrass myself by bending over to throw the bowling ball.

The thought of him watching me get a strike made me smirk. My competitive side was kicking in.

True to his word, we arrived in no time. Jet’s Bowling was on the middle floor of a high-rise, sandwiched between a spa and a shoe store.

“Since you suggested a bowling alley, I assume you like to bowl?” Anton asked after we got our tickets and ordered drinks.

“I do. Bowling brings back memories of my hometown. It’s my go-to for fun, with movies a close second.”

“Movies. Noted,” he said, choosing a lane. “If you love bowling so much, we’ll come here often enough that you might actually get tired of it.”

“No chance. I’ll never get bored of bowling.”

I looked around at the Jet’s Bowling. It was a simple, spacious room. Half the area was filled with alleys, the other half with seating for groups to chat. The place buzzed with people talking and bowling.

I grabbed a ball and walked to the empty lane. Placing my fingers in the holes, I took a deep breath and threw the ball, careful not to flash my underwear at my boss. The ball curved toward the gutter but still knocked down five pins.

“I guess I’m a bit rusty.”

I threw a second ball and knocked down the remaining pins.

Anton clapped. “I’m sure I’ll do worse than that. I don’t remember the last time I went bowling.”

He threw a ball, then stepped back to watch as it curved almost immediately and ended up in the gutter.

I hid my smile behind a sip of my mocktail. “You didn’t do so bad.”

He furrowed his brow. “What? That was terrible. I didn’t hit anything.”

“But it went straight for a few seconds.”

“More like half a second.”

I laughed, and he took it in stride.

I liked his sportsmanship despite my laughter.

Maybe he was doing this on purpose to let me win. I doubted he would admit it if I asked.

“Would you say you’re athletic?” I asked, realizing too late it was a silly question. Everything about him screamed athleticism .

He smiled but didn’t reply.

“I’ve seen quite a few pictures of you swimming,” I continued.

He raised an eyebrow. “You Googled me?”

“Yeah, after you hired me.”

Actually, after Maddison told me who you were, I fell down a rabbit hole researching you and your family. But mostly, you , I added to myself.

“And you found out that I was on the swim team in college. Yet I was accused of being a stalker this morning…. Who’s the stalker now?”

“Honestly, you should be more suspicious of anyone who said they didn’t Google you.”

He sidled closer to me and leaned in. “What else did you find out about me?”

His conspiratory, low tone sent shivers through me. I laughed to steady my nerves.

“Well, there were a few photos of thirteen-year-old you beside your dad when he commemorated his company.”

Anton straightened, groaning. “You went that far back?”

His embarrassment was hilarious. Laughing was a good distraction from the flutter in my stomach caused by his closeness.

“The pictures weren’t bad. I mean, thirteen-year-old Anton didn’t have that cocky look you have now… You were an adorable, innocent-looking boy.”

He sipped his drink before setting it aside to throw another ball. It still missed, but it went straight for a bit longer.

“Yeah, thirteen-year-old me hung on every word my father said like it was gospel.”

I paused, worried I’d hit a sore spot. “Want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing much to say except that at that age, most kids idolize their father. I wasn’t any different. But the Waltons, as you’ve noticed, is a huge name around here. Much bigger than what a typical teenager has to live up to. My father wanted to mold me into his idea of the perfect child.”

The resentment in his voice made me want to hear more. Talking about things we keep inside was good. Just the fact that he’d opened up to me on our first date was overwhelming. I wanted him to know I was here to listen.

“It must have been intimidating to bear the weight of a family like yours. What about now? Is he still trying to mold you?”

“No, I’d been my own man since I’d gone against his greatest wish by choosing law.” He shrugged, but a slight, almost imperceptible, tightening of his jaw hinted at the long old feeling bottled inside.

He tried to sound nonchalant, but I could tell my questions had struck a nerve. It was better to change the subject.

“Thirteen-year-old me was obsessed with pop music. I knew every song by heart. I was convinced I would become a star.”

He chuckled softly. “I can picture Celia Adams singing her heart out on her bed, with messy pigtails and wearing hand-me-downs.”

The sound of his laughter made my heart flutter.

I observed his face closely.

Stop staring, Celia. Don’t be so obvious about your attraction to him.

Gathering myself, I refocused on our conversation. “You’re surprisingly spot on. I loved pigtails back then, and I wore Maddison's hand-me-downs.”

He smirked. “Maybe next time we’ll go somewhere you can sing.”

His comment filled me with warmth. “Already planning a second date?” I teased.

Anton reached for my waist. “Yeah, I am. Perhaps somewhere with dancing, too?” With that, he twirled me around to the music playing overhead.

I couldn’t have stopped smiling even if I tried.