Misadventures with the Boss (Misadventures #12)(5)

Damn, would that be one hell of a view…



*

During my work day on Friday, I pushed the date from my mind, focusing instead on the upcoming merger and the innumerable speeches I’d be forced to make at any given press junket or business conference. Of course, the fact that I had no assistant made that task all the more difficult. After a few fumbling tries with the new management software, I was quickly getting the hang of things. I’d set up a meeting with Sally from HR but had been forced to cancel when a new real estate listing had fallen through the cracks and required my attention. I was so busy, the rest of my day went by in a blur.

In fact, I barely even thought about Fantasy Girl 29.

The end of the day came just as quickly as the start, and before I knew it, five o’clock had finally come around. As usual, I was going to stay behind for a while to work—the restaurant for our meetup was just around the corner—but before I settled into the pile of listings I’d set aside to go through, I picked up the receiver and dialed Human Resources.

Sally, the head of the department, answered the phone in monotone. “Jackson.”

“Sally, how did you know it was me?”

“Who else would be calling me at five o’clock on a Friday?” she asked. “Everyone else is gone. Can we make this quick, Jackson? I have dinner plans with my husband.”

I resisted the urge to play the world’s tiniest violin for her, but she had a strong work ethic and typically got the job done, which tipped the scale in her favor in my book.

Except with this whole assistant thing. That was out of hand.

“When will the agency be sending over a new candidate for me to interview?” I asked, jumping right to the point.

“Oh no, you’re not interviewing them anymore. In fact, the agency stopped working with us when the last two candidates left here in tears. I hired this one myself.”

“What? Why?” I demanded.

“Something to do with unrealistic expectations, boss. You’re burning through their candidates faster than they can send them.”

“Ridiculous. I think maybe we ought to get a new system for vetting candidates so I can—”

“No, I don’t think so. In fact, our legal team has advised me that your behavior could be stepping into hostile work environment territory, and they’ve asked me to handle the details of your staff from here on out. Your new assistant starts on Monday. If she doesn’t work out, you can talk to our counsel and tell them you want to hire the next one yourself.”

“And when am I supposed to find time for that? You know we’re on the verge of a possible merger with Global Business Solutions.” I didn’t mean to snap, but the words definitely came out a little clipped.

“Which is exactly why legal wants to keep us out of lawsuit territory. At this rate, I think the only person who’ll work for you is a superhero. Nobody can keep your insane hours. I know this place is your baby, and you’re amazing at the business side of things, but my advice? Honestly, sir. You need to back off.”

I wanted to reprimand her, but frankly, half the reason I’d hired her was for the straight talk. Yes-people were part of the game, but maybe-not-sir-people were twice as valuable.

“Right, well, thanks for the help, Sally,” I said finally with a frustrated sigh.

“Yup. Have a good weekend.”

The line died, and I put the receiver back down and stared at it for a long moment.

I wasn’t impossible to work for. I was exacting, yes, but I never asked for anything I couldn’t do myself. That was important when it came to being a boss. Or, at least, that’s what I used to think.

Again, the tension inside me rose, and I considered phoning my hookup and asking her to come straight to my office in nothing but a trench coat and some thigh-high boots. Unfortunately for me, that was what strippers and prostitutes did—not random strangers from a damn internet app. The least I could do was buy the woman a nice meal and a good bottle of Cabernet.

For a second, I allowed myself to fantasize about something easy. A long-term casual arrangement with a woman—someone who knew what I needed and when and didn’t have to get her heart involved. Someone who didn’t want a ring or children but just raw, carnal satisfaction.

That was all I was good for, and that was exactly what I wanted in return.

“Just be happy you’re at least getting laid tonight,” I muttered to myself.

Tapping my fingers against the arms of my chair, I considered the files piled high on my desk and shrugged. Tomorrow was a new day, and I could always stop by and pick up the files to work on them from home over the weekend. I needed out of here, stat.

I grabbed my jacket and made for the elevators on the far side of my floor. I would be early for my date, but I needed a good stiff drink, and I couldn’t sit around here waiting any longer—I felt like a damned caged animal.

Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket, I headed toward the Florentine Inn around the corner and sidled up to the bar, ignoring the interested glances of the waitresses I passed.

“Sapphire martini, dry as a bone, three olives,” I told the bartender, and he offered me a little nod before setting to work. As I waited, I stared at the door, willing the girl I’d seen online to stroll in, laughing like she had in her pictures.

Fuck dinner.

When I saw her, I was going to corner her and suggest we have a drink or two and then get straight to the main event. Even now, I could feel my blood running hotter at the thought of sinking deep into her hot, tight—