Chapter 6 My Boss Is A Gentleman

Kira's POV

"Miss Ellington, what are you hiding?" He presses on, now walking further into the living room. His towering figure makes the room look even smaller. My breath hitches with each step he takes.

I can't let him find this. If he does...

My heart races as Gavin walks toward me, his brows furrowed with concern. Before he can get too close, I turn around and rush into my room, locking the door behind me.

"Kira, are you okay?" Gavin's muffled voice comes through the door, filled with worry. "What's wrong? What are you hiding?"

I gulp hard, my hands trembling as I stare at the pregnancy test in my hand. There's no way I can let him see this-not now, not yet. I don't even know if I can ever tell him. "It's nothing," I call back, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I'll be right out. I just... I need a minute."

There's a pause. Then his voice comes through again, lower this time, signaling that he's moving back to the living room. "Okay, but I'm right outside. Let me know if you need anything."

My shoulders relax. That was a close call, but I still have to be careful. I hurriedly shove the test into the laundry basket under a pile of clothes. My heart is still pounding, but I take deep breaths to calm down before opening the door.

Gavin is standing there, arms crossed, eyes trained on me. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks, his eyes scanning my face. "You don't look fine."

"I'm fine," I lie, passing a faint smile. "Just a little anxious. It's my first big business trip, and I guess I'm nervous about messing up. I don't want to ruin anything for the company."

Not the complete truth, but also not a lie. I have been scared of failing during this trip. By the way, I'm always disappointing people.

His expression softens, and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "This is my fault. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to worry you when I said not to screw things up. That's just... me being me. My dad always said you were one of his best employees. You'll do great."

It catches me off guard, hearing him speak so kindly. I can't help but smile. "Thank you, sir. We can leave now."

As we head toward the door, I reach for my suitcase, but Gavin beats me to it, lifting it as though it weighs nothing. "What are you doing?" I ask, my brow furrowing in confusion.

He glances at me, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Just let me handle this, Miss Ellington."

"But sir-"

"No 'sir,' please," he interrupts, his tone firm yet gentle. "Call me Gavin. At least when we're not at the office."

I blink, surprised by this side of him. What has gotten into him? He's usually so... distant and cold.

We walk out to his car, where a driver sits waiting. There are three other cars parked, one in front and two behind the car we move to. Rich people and security.

Lost in thought, I don't notice Gavin leaning in too close to open the car door for me. My eyes widen as I notice his shirt is slightly unbuttoned, revealing the toned goodness beneath. The heat from his body seems to radiate between us, filling the small space. And his cologne, hmm, I inhale subtly.

My eyes flicker to his lips for a second. I know this is wrong-I have a boyfriend. But something about him makes my legs tremble and my pulse spike.

In the car, Gavin leans in even closer, his arm brushing mine as he reaches for my seatbelt. I hadn't even realized I hadn't buckled in yet. That's what staring at manly angels does to someone.

As he's clicking it into place, our faces are inches apart. His breath is warm against my skin, and heat rushes straight to my core.

Then, just as quickly, he pulls back and settles into his seat like nothing happened. Did he feel what I was feeling? Was it just me?

"Ready?" he asks casually, as though the moment passed unnoticed. I guess it's just me then.

I nod, staring straight ahead, my mind losing itself again in thoughts. What just happened? Why am I feeling this way? Gavin is my boss. And Malcolm-no, I have to stop doing this. I have a boyfriend.

The car ride is quiet, with me pretending to focus on the streets as we drive past. But my mind is nowhere near the streets. No, it keeps drifting back to Gavin and how he makes me feel.

We arrive at a tarmac, and the sight of the private jet stops me in my tracks. Sleek, pristine, its white and golden exterior shines under the sun.

"Typical rich people," I mutter under my breath, running my fingers lightly along the side of the jet, half in amazement, half in disbelief. Why do people need to spend so much for something so little?

A low chuckle sounds behind me, making me freeze. "Excuse me?" Gavin's voice is amused.

Oh shit, he must have heard that. I turn, cheeks burning. "Oh, I didn't mean-"

"You don't have to apologize," he says, his smile widening. "You're right. Typical rich people. We love spending money for us." He pauses, still grinning. "Shall we?"

I nod quickly, trying to hide my flushed state as I follow him up the steps and into the jet. The interior is even more luxurious than outside-plush leather seats, polished wood panels, all very expensive.

"You'll get used to it," Gavin says, settling down in the seat across from me. Hmm, I won't get used to it because it's not my kind of world.

When we arrive at the luxuriously grand hotel, Gavin, the recently converted gentleman, opens the door for me again. My cheeks flush again, and I'm scared my heart can fail from how fast it's beating.

"You didn't eat before the drive and flight," he says, glancing at me. "Let's grab something before heading up to our rooms."

I'm about to protest, but my stomach growls, betraying me. My face reddens as Gavin chuckles, the sound rare enough but so beautiful it catches me off guard.

We sit down at the hotel's elegant restaurant, and to my surprise, the conversation flows easily. We laugh; he asks about my dreams, and I tell him to wait.

After we finish, Gavin leans back, his eyes soft as he looks at me. "You'll do great tomorrow, Kira. I know it."

"Thanks," I murmur, my heart light. "I should probably get some rest."

He stands, and we walk up to our rooms. At my door, he smiles, his voice lower, "Goodnight, Miss Ellington."

"Goodnight," I whisper, my stomach doing that ridiculous fluttering thing again. Gosh, what is wrong with me? Get a grip, Kira; you still have a boyfriend.

As I close the door behind me, a sense of guilt hits me like a wave. This isn't right. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, cutting me off from my thoughts.

Malcolm's name flashes across the screen. My heart drops.