Billionaire Boss
Protector
A Grumpy Boss Romance
Tessa Sloan
Wild Fern Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2023 by Tessa Sloan
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
Chapter 1
NATALIE
C lutching my purse, I march back toward the black Mercedes Maybach
waiting at the entrance of the cemetery. It’s only about three in the afternoon, but the clouds have turned gray suddenly without warning, the moisture in the air growing heavier each second, causing the world to turn dark and dank all around me. Pressing my eyes closed, I flinch, rooted on the spot when a sharp streak of lightning cuts across the sky, followed by a rumble of thunder. Biting my bottom lip, I swallow my tears.
Damn it, Natalie. You’re twenty-four years old and still scared of a littledesert monsoon?!
As the sound fades, I take a deep breath to gather my strength and begin to sprint as large droplets of water start to fall. Panicking, I dash, not noticing the puddle of mud at my feet, only to slip and fall on my butt with a thud.
Jesus! What a klutz!
With gritted teeth, I attempt to scramble to my feet, only to be startled when low thunder booms again. Heavy rain begins pouring down in sheets and it only takes a moment for me to get drenched pitifully. Feeling my strength escaping my body, my knees grow weak before I can straighten up. My vision is blurred
by the driving rain as my eyes catch sight of a familiar figure getting out of the car.
Come on, Nat. Just a few more steps. Get up!
I give up my attempt as the skies grumble again while my hands subconsciously find their way to cover my ears. The cold air seeps into my skin and I shiver harshly. I can’t be sure if it’s because of my fear, the chilling wind through my damp clothes, or the icy cold glare coming from the approaching figure of a man carrying a black umbrella. Within a few breaths, he successfully rescues me from my pathetic pit of mud and despair and seamlessly deposits me on the passenger seat.
I purse my lips as he throws his coat over me, blasting the heater, and adjusting the vents so that they’re all aimed directly at me.
