Boss I Love to Hate: An Office Romance(4)

“Of course.” I forced an even smoothness in my tone, knowing I wouldn’t, and I kissed her forehead one last time before standing up to leave. Relief flooded me once I was out of the hotel.

I hopped into my Aston Martin and headed home to the suburbs. I didn’t want to sleep alone tonight, not at my condo in the city. That wasn’t where I called home anyway.

As I drove and the city lights disappeared behind me, my shoulders slumped. I should’ve felt energized. Olivia was a freak in the bedroom, but all I felt was fatigue in my bones and an undeniable desire to knock out on my bed. All this work when dating—the wining and dining and the sex—was tiring. I didn’t mind the sex, but it seemed as though I were on the hamster wheel of dating. I’d pick a girl, repeat the cycle, and hope that it was different this time, that I’d like a girl long enough to keep her. But finding her hasn’t happened yet and round and round the cycle I went.

I hated when my brothers were right, and they were; I was already tired of the game.

I waved at the guard at our palatial estate to open the gates and drove up the winding road to the mansion that my parents had built and expanded over the years.

Thinking of not having them here anymore always sent an ache to my chest, an unbearable tightness in my lungs. It was almost four years ago, and it seemed as though tragedy had hit us one after the other during that time.

Charles’s wife, Natalie, had died when giving birth, leaving him to raise two girls by himself. And my parents asked Charles to move in so they could help with their grandchildren. Charles was an absolute wreck during that time, unable to go to work or properly care for the girls. It was one of the hardest times we’d gone through; we were all afraid he wouldn’t break out of his depression.

And, just when life had gotten back to normal, a drunk driver had taken my parents’ lives. It had gutted us, and we’d never been the same since.

But family was of the utmost importance, so we all tried. Mason and I had moved in to help Charles raise the kids. Though Mason and I had our places in the city, we were sleeping in our Barrington suburban house we’d grown up in because family always came first in the Brisken household.

As I entered our house and stepped into the silence, an agonizing sadness took over me. I took the stairs two at a time and slowly opened Sarah’s door. I could see the moonlight shine a light over my niece’s small twelve-year-old frame, and I released a soft sigh, knowing she was safe.

Next, I tiptoed into Mary’s room. The night-light on the wall illuminated her room in a faint amber glow. The princess decals on her walls smiled down on my sweet niece. I walked closer and took in her petite features, the way she hugged the elephant that I had given to her when she was three, and the way she slept with her mouth slightly ajar. Damn precious. I kissed the top of her head and brushed the back of my hand against her cheek.

Dads weren’t supposed to play favorites, but no one ever said anything about uncles.





Sonia

I lifted my head from the iPad screen, already seated in front of the BILK’s desk.

“Did you get that?” Brad paced the length of his office, talking while I typed, the Chicago skyline his backdrop.

Of course, I’d gotten it. I wasn’t an idiot, nor did he speak a foreign language. I typed faster than he spoke and had a typing accuracy of ninety-nine percent. I simply smiled.

Grinding my molars, I gritted out, “No, I didn’t. If you can speak a little slower.”

I lifted an eyebrow, looking at him as though he were an idiot, and he merely laughed.

If he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, I had fallen off the bed and woken up under it. I had been up stalking the replacement until midnight last night, and obsessed was an understatement. Now, I was sleepy and cranky, and three cups of coffee were not helping my foul mood.

“There is never a dull moment with you, Sonia.” He shook his head, amused. “You’re in fine form this morning.”

Me? ME!

I smiled often, but it wasn’t because I was happy or amused or even slightly entertained. I smiled because, in my head, I was ticking off ways I would secretly torture him if he weren’t my boss. Pull out his nose hairs with tweezers. Put itching powder in his dry cleaning. Or spit in his morning coffee, lunch, or afternoon snack. Or better yet, delete all his e-mails and pretend that it was a virus.

And that was why I smiled. It was that or throw this damn iPad against his beautiful face.

I bit my tongue. Don’t say a thing.

I reminded myself again, This job is easy and they pay well and I like living on my own and not with my five siblings back at home so I can handle his rude ’tude this morning.

“Why does it look like you have a bad case of stomach issues?” He smirked, entertained, and I so badly wanted to punch that cocky smile off his face.

“What?” My smile faltered, and I gave him that look, the look that didn’t hide a thing, the look that I was irritated beyond the highest mountain, the tallest skyscraper. I wasn’t in the mood, so it was especially hard to fake it today. And, after seeing booby girl kissing Jeff on his Facebook feed, I didn’t have enough room in my patience jar for any more of Brad’s rudeness. “I’m fine.”

“Did you get everything?”

“Yes,” I snapped.

He accepted my attitude with another smirk.