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

21. Celia

Chapter twenty-one

Celia

I t had been two weeks since I’d come out of my probationary period, making it officially over three months since I started working here. I felt a little celebratory about it. Anton would have been the first to hear about it—alas.

Seeing him at work had always been somewhat uncomfortable, but now, it was borderline unbearable. Thankfully, his father had recovered and was back at home, though I had to hear the news from Olivia. She had become a very good friend at work, but we hadn’t reached the point where I would confide in her about what happened between Anton and me. Still, I suspected she had some idea of what went on when I used to visit his office.

Not being able to talk to Anton in the familiar way I had grown accustomed to was sometimes driving me crazy at times. His demeanor toward me was strictly professional and distant. I should have been relieved, but I wasn’t. It only intensified the ache—hurt like the dickens.

I picked up a case file and headed to the copier to finish up a deposition for Otis, one of the attorney colleagues. I wasn’t an intern anymore, but he was up to his neck in cases and had asked me for a favor.

Suddenly, my nose made contact with a chest as firm as a brick wall. I stumbled back, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry—” My words were cut short. “Anton!” I shook my head. “Uhh, I mean, Mr. Waltons.”

“Good morning, Miss Adams,” he said flatly.

All the spark was gone from his tone, and it felt like a dagger in my heart. There was no telling what was going on in that handsome head of his.

“Morning. I’m sorry,” I replied and went around him. He fell into step beside me, though. “I’ve been reviewing your notes on the Harper and Howland case. How are things going?”

We entered the copy room, just the two of us. I paused at that question, then remembered that even though I was out of probation, I was still somewhat supervised. Of course, Waltons couldn’t let a dent happen in his firm’s prestige standing. Neither would I.

“It’s going well,” I replied.

I tidied the pile of papers but I accidentally missed the counter, and they crashed to the floor. I knelt, gathering the papers as Anton crouched down with me.

“Celia,” he said softly.

I didn’t grab any paper; instead, I closed my eyes, wishing he wouldn’t say my name like that, like he wished things could go back to the way they had been. He placed his hand under my elbow and helped me stand. My skin tingled at his touch, bringing back all the memories of the intimate moments we’d shared.

“Mr. Waltons, please.” This was torture. Sweet torture. “We can’t go there again. Especially after my visit from Reeva—”

“What?! Reeva came to see you?”

Zut! I hadn’t meant to reveal that. My heart pounded in my chest, the words had tumbled out before I could stop them, a desperate attempt to shield myself from the pull he still had over me.

“Yes, she did. I think she meant to warn me off, but I told her we were over.” I raised my eyes to his, a knot tightening in my stomach with regret and a desire to protect myself. “I won’t get in your way anymore.”

“I want you to get in my way.”

“No!”

He took a step back, looking like I’d slapped him. The raw vulnerability in his eyes pierced through me, and for a moment, I almost wished I could take the word back.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to be around you, Mr. Waltons.”

“You can stop calling me that, for one.”

“It has to be this way. I’m your employee, and you’re my boss. Everyone else calls you Mr. Waltons.”

“But you’re not just anyone,” he argued and cupped my cheek, sending a thrill of warmth through me as my body betrayed me. “You’re so much more.”

His words were like a lifeline, pulling at the part of me that still longed for him, but I knew I couldn’t allow myself to reach out.

“I can’t listen to this,” I said as firmly as I could, but his presence was making me weak.

M y heart was rebelling against my mind’s futile attempt to maintain control. I wanted him to hold me, press me to himself as he did in the motel room, murmur sweet things in my ear, and kiss me slowly and sensually. I wanted—

He grabbed my hand, pulling me to stand in front of him. “This won’t take long.”

The intensity in his grip sent a shiver down my spine, and despite my resolve, a part of me wanted to surrender to the moment.

He leaned in, touching my waist. Our lips were so close that they nearly touched. My heart skipped, somersaulted, and flipped, and his breath spread across my cheek. I gripped his shirt for a moment, his hands spread across my back, but before our lips touched, I found the courage to push away.

“Celia, I—I—”

I shook my head vigorously back and forth. I nearly walked out, forgetting the deposition strewn across the floor. I wanted to run away from what this man was doing to me.

He smoothed his jacket down and hung his head.

Was he trying to hide tears? When I chanced a peek at him, his eyes told a story of their own. They were clouded with yearning in his gaze, a desperate longing that reached out to me, silently pleading for something lost. Yet, it was the frustration that struck me most—his jaw clenched tight, as if he were holding back a torrent of words, emotions he couldn't fully express. His eyes, now slightly glazed, bore into mine with an intensity that made my heart ache. It was as if he were searching for something, anything, to bridge the chasm that had formed between us, but all he found was the cold reality that stood in our way.

My heart lurched. Every bit of me wanted every bit of him. But I couldn’t have him.

A baby in the midst was just more than I could handle right now.

“Very well. I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said.

He then bent down to pick up my papers and set them on the copier before walking out. All I could do was stand there like a statue, my heart beating chaotically in my chest.

Worse, Winnie chose that moment to walk in to make copies. She gave me an odd sideways look. “Are you using this or can I?” she asked impatiently.

I gathered my papers and rushed out, mumbling, “No, go ahead.”

Anton was standing in the reception area of our floor when I passed by, and our eyes met. I felt the letdown of distancing myself from him.

Why did this hurt so much? My rational brain still clung to the belief that I would get over this, as others who had moved past heartbreak. I reassured myself that all I needed was time; patience was my tool.