CHAPTER SIX

It's Friday, four days since ‘the incident', and Wyn continues to avoid me like the Plague. I decide to swallow my apprehension and visit her, instead.

When I get to her door, I knock politely, hoping it doesn't seem like a passive-aggressive reprimand since she didn't do it the last time we spoke.

Wyn calls out for me to enter, and I step inside her office. Above me, the fluorescent light flickers with a monotonous drone, throwing dancing shadows across the room.

The lovely woman doesn't even look up, but I watch her shoulders tense when she realizes that it's me.

"Do you have a moment, Wyn? I want to talk about what happened this past Monday—"

"I, unfortunately, don't have a moment to spare for the topic, but please feel free to email me your thoughts."

She doesn't even glance up from her computer screen, fingers flying over the keyboard with an efficiency that borders on aggressive.

I shudder against the chill of the cold wall that Wyn's erected between us, unsure of how to get past it.

Maybe if I approach her on a neutral topic.

"Your light flickers. If I had to work under it all day, I'd have a migraine. Let me get maintenance to fix—"

"No, thanks. I've already sent them two requests already."

My eyes narrow. "And they still haven't taken care of it? That's unacceptable."

I straighten, glaring at the light that makes my eye twitch. I have no idea why her request has gone unanswered, but I plan to find out.

Wyn finally looks at me, her expression carefully blank. "Mr. Ettin, I've already taken care of it. Was there something else you needed?"

You.

Clearing my throat to dispel the thought as well as the tension building side of me, I try talking to Wyn again.

"About what happened in my office the other day—"

The gorgeous woman slams down her mouse with a glare. "Nothing happened! I've already put it behind me—and you should, too."

"I understand if you want to tell HR—"

"Is that what this is about? You're afraid I'm going to tattle on you? Firstly, I'm not, so no worries there. Secondly, you literally own this entire company, what good would it do for me to say anything?"

"Wyn, I'm just as accountable for my actions as anyone else at Boggleworks."

She snorts, clearly not believing me. "Right, well, I will keep that in mind in case any future incidents arise. Now, I have a phone meeting, please excuse me."

Right on cue, the shrill ring of her phone echoes around her office, and she shoots me a smug smile before giving me her back to dismiss me.

Sighing in defeat, I give up and leave Wyn in peace like she wants. Her avoidance is a dance I've come to know step by step.

It's impressive how she navigates this place, always just out of my reach, but it's damned annoying, too. I'm her boss—I should be able to get five minutes of her time!

Maybe she's right and I should just let this go. I might be able to if Wyn would go back to her normal self and not this ice robot she's turned into.

At least it's Friday. Both of us need a break. Wyn can enjoy the weekend with her son, and I can torture myself some more about how I fucked everything up—but come Monday, Wyn and I are talking.

Whether she likes it or not.

Thirty minutes before our weekly Monday board meeting, my receptionist bustles into my office.

"Mr. Ettin, Wyn called in sick this morning."

"Sick?"

The word feels foreign on my tongue. In the ten months that Wyn has worked at my company, not once has she ever called in sick.

Hell, there was a time when she came in looking like death warmed over, and I had to send her home myself.

"Did she say what's wrong?" I try to mask the concern pounding through me, but it's difficult.

"No, but it's probably just a cold. It's going around the office."

Marcie returns to her desk as a gnawing sense of unease settles in my gut. I stare blankly at my computer screen, the cursor blinking while it waits for me to type.

What if Wyn's really, really sick—what if her son is sick, too?!

I rub my temples, feeling the edges of my form blur like a shadow without definition. It's a sign that my emotions are running rampant, a quirk of my Boggart nature.

When I assemble everyone for our weekly Monday round up, a pit forms in the bottom of my stomach when I remember Wyn isn't here.

As the meeting drags on, my fingers drum an impatient rhythm on the tabletop, my gaze drawn to her empty chair. Finally, it's over.

"Alright, great talk, everyone. Have a good week."

My words lack their normal exuberance and warmth, and some of the men and women shoot me concerned looks.

Once everyone leaves, I get up and pace the length of the conference room. The space reminds me too much of everything that's transpired between Wyn and me.

The bet.

My attraction.

Her disdain.

I storm out of the room, stomping back to my office. If I thought people were looking before—they sure are now.

Throwing myself into my chair, I begin working myself into a frenzy. The day drags on, and I miss Wyn more than I ever thought I would.

By three, I can't take it anymore. I make a decision, one that might be crossing a line but they're already blurred.

I need to see Wyn—to ensure she's alright.

Unable to stop myself, I pull up HR's files with a few clicks, guilt gnawing at me for breaching her privacy like this.

Her address memorized, I call out to Marcie to cancel anything for the rest of the day as I'm attending to something personal.

Striding through the parking building to my car, my keys jangle in my pocket like the nerves I refuse to acknowledge.

My billion dollar empire wasn't built on second guessing myself.

With this in mind, I hop into my car and start driving to Wyn's apartment. On instinct, I stop at a grocery to grab some soup, a bottle of ginger ale, and several different types of cold meds—just in case Wyn needs something.

When I reach her building, my heart thuds against my ribs. The lobby is quiet as I make my way to the third floor.

Outside of Wyn's door, I pause, my fist hanging in mid-air before I knock three raps in quick succession.

It swings open to reveal a small boy with Wyn's dark eyes and a mop of unruly hair. He's clutching a toy dinosaur, its plastic jaws wide open as if captured mid-roar.

I crouch down until the two of us are eye-level. "Hey, little buddy, I hear your mom is sick. Is she feeling better?"

He stares at me with a frankness only children possess. "Mom's not sick. She had the day off."

"Did she now?"

Before I can ask more, a flash of movement catches my eye as Wyn comes into view.

"Jake, how many times have I told you not to—" She cuts off when she spies me, her eyes widening. "Mr. Ettin?! What are you doing here?"

"Who's he?" Jake wonders.

"My boss."

"He's a monster!"

"Jacob! That's not polite!"

I continue to kneel, looking at the little boy. "Your mom's right. It might hurt someone's feelings to point out their differences, but I also understand I'm…"

"The coolest-looking guy ever?!" he supplies, and I chuckle.

"Well, I wasn't going to say that, but thank you. I'm a Boggart."

"Whoa! Mom, a Boggart is your boss?! I have to show him my superheroes!"

With this, he disappears, leaving me alone with very healthy-looking Wyn.

"Sorry to just show up. I wanted to check in when Marcie said you called in sick. I was worried."

"Um…" She trails off, her cheeks flushing. "I needed a personal day. It seemed easier to just say that I was sick."

"You don't have to explain—you're allotted personal days—guess you won't need these, though."

I lift the clear bags, showing her the groceries inside. Something akin to guilt flashes across her face before she lowers her head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ettin."

Her apology lodges in my chest, shredding at my heart. "Why are you apologizing to me? It's me who should be apologizing to you, Wyn."

"It's partly my fault. I never should've gone into your office without knocking—"

"And I never should've been doing that in my office to begin with."

She nods, stepping back a bit. "Do you want to come in?"

It takes all my strength not to barrel through the door frame before she changes her mind. Wyn directs me to the couch, where I sit.

"So, ah, your son is adorable."

"Spend some time with him, and you won't think that…but yeah, he is. Jake's my whole world."

"He's beautiful, like you."

Wyn sucks in a breath, blushing. "Um, thank you."

"Will you tell me why you're mad at me?"

"I…why do you question me and no one else?"

"What do you mean?"

"Every Monday, you constantly undermine me and all my decisions by calling me out in front of everyone."

"You think…I'm undermining you? Wyn, I think you're one of the most competent employees I've ever had at Boggleworks. I promise I'm not calling you out."

"Then what are you doing?"

Flirting with you.

"I…just enjoy talking to you—engaging you. I'm truly sorry you felt attacked by my questions. I only wanted to interact with you."

"So this bet isn't about challenging me?"

"Not in the way you think, no. I will admit it's one of the few things I've ever disagreed with you on. You're brilliant at marketing, but that doesn't make you infallible on the topic."

She snorts. "But you think you're better?"

"In this specific instance, yes. Would it be the end of the world for me to be right?"

"In my book."

I laugh. "You know it's ok to be wrong sometimes, right?"

Wyn rolls her eyes. "Are you ever wrong?"

"Every day of my life."

She stares at me. "What have you been wrong about today?"

"Actually quite a few things, but I'm trying to fix what happened between us. Should we call off this bet?"

"Why?"

"Because I just realized you think I did it just to undermine you."

"Did you?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then why?"

"The truth…because I'll never get another chance to kiss you."

Wyn looks away, her cheeks flushing a dark mauve that's so gorgeous, I nearly bundle her into my arms and smooch her senseless.

"No, I don't want to call off the bet, but no hard feelings when you lose?"

I chuckle. "Whatever you need to tell yourself—but I'll do better at Monday meetings, though. I didn't realize you felt this way. Thank you for telling me. Also, you know you get personal days. You don't need to call in sick."

She nods. "I'm sorry for lying. My thoughts are a bit of a mess, and anger seems to be a default setting in me."

"A defense mechanism?"

"Yeah," she whispers.

"Listen, I admit that I like to get under your skin sometimes, but I'm genuinely not trying to infuriate you. I think you're amazing."

Before she can say anything, Jake runs back in, his arms laden with toys. "Look what I have!"

He jumps up on the couch beside me, talking a mile a minute while Wyn shouts over him to give me some space.

"He's fine," I reassure her, loving every second of her son's attention.

Wyn bites her lip. "Jake, Mr. Ettin probably wants to go…"

"Ah, Mom, can he stay for dinner?"

"Not tonight, baby." Both his and my face fall, and Wyn groans. "Another time."

"You promise?" Jake demands.

"I promise."

"Don't worry, little buddy, I won't let her forget."

She pierces me with a mock glare, and I laugh as I get up and walk to the door. I hesitate for a moment.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'll be there, bright and early."

I leave, my heart lighter than it's been for days. Going to Wyn's house was just the ticket to clearing up the air.

The only thing that could make me happier is when I win our bet and I get my kiss.