My (Mostly) Secret Baby: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy(15)

Excited murmuring turned to hushed whispers as those who had spotted me scrambled to their desks to pretend they were working.

Inside the break room, I found Chelsea and Tia Klein talking as casually as old friends.

I frowned. “Tia. I wasn’t expecting you for a few hours.”

“Scheduling conflict,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I was just letting your personal assistant know about it.”

“Right. Well, I can see you now, if that’s what this is about.”

More of my employees were doing the wise thing and inching their way out of the room by the second. Still, I could feel the presence of the nosiest ones lingering to listen behind me.

Tia had silky black hair and a firm athlete’s body. She might’ve passed for gorgeous to some, but I found her supreme air of confidence to be more of the holier than thou brand, which put me off her immediately. She had exotic features that made her appear almost cat-like—a feature she seemed to emphasize on purpose from the way she swayed as she crossed the room toward me.

“Chelsea was telling me how close you two are.”

I felt my stomach clench. She was what? “Did she tell you anything else?” I asked carefully.

Chelsea looked at me in a way that made me positive I was going to want to strangle her in a few seconds. “I was just saying how you’ve been so kind to me. Really the best boss I could’ve hoped for.”

I manufactured my best smile. “Right. I’m glad you’re enjoying it here.”

“Well,” Tia said. “I was hoping I could move our meeting to tonight. I’ve got a fundraiser thing at my place. Maybe you could come and we could get a few drinks in us before we talk boring business? And bring this girl.” She gave a little tilt of her head toward Chelsea. “I like her.”

Once Tia was gone, I pushed every lingering employee out of the break room and closed the doors. I turned to face Chelsea, who had her back to the counter.

“She was nice,” Chelsea said.

“What was that?”

“Leverage?”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t just fire you on the spot for fucking with a client of mine? Telling her how close we were? It couldn’t be farther from the truth. And I don’t want you talking to potential clients or existing clients without my express permission. God knows what you could screw up if you say the wrong thing.”

“You shouldn’t fire me on the spot because you want to chase me away. You think I won’t be able to handle the punches you’re going to throw, and you want to watch me walk away with my tail between my legs. You won’t fire me because that’s not how you decided this was going to go, and you’re too stubborn to change your mind on that.”

Truth be told, I was currently remembering when I was between her legs. She looked even better after five years apart. She was full figured, wild-eyed, and I still hadn’t been able to forget how it’d felt to be inside her.

She’d been haunting me for five years, and now she was here. In the flesh.

“Let me guess, this time will be different?” I was talking about our little bet five years ago—when I’d told her I could make her say “yes” and she didn’t believe it. We’d pitted our wills against each other before, and I’d come out on top in more ways than one. Now she seemed to think it was going to be different. Of course, I did have some semblance of professionalism, and I wasn’t going to spell that out for her.

“This may be a game to you, but it’s an opportunity for me. Did I tell her we were close? Yes. And now you’re inclined to bring me to an important meeting with an important client. You think I’m going to quit, but I’m going to show you exactly why you need me here.”

I folded my arms. “I need you? Do you even know the first thing about athletic agencies? Representing clients? Structuring contracts?”

“If you figured it out, I’m sure I can.”

“If you last long enough. I’ll see you at the fundraiser. Try to dress nice for a change.”





8





Chelsea





I put my hands on my knees, drumming my fingers awkwardly. The nightlife of New York City was crawling by the car window as we inched through traffic. I was also sitting next to an old man I’d never met. Apparently, his name was “Dick,” and he’d been sent by Damon to drive me to the fundraiser.

Dick wore a felt hat with a stubby brim over his age speckled head. He had a long, hook nose, teeth so perfect I suspected they were dentures, and he was dressed in an adorable little cardigan.

“So…” I said after a few minutes of quiet. “Do you usually drive people around for Damon?”

“Usually? I rub his feet. Oil him down before photoshoots. Sometimes I’ll massage the little knot he gets out of his ass cheek.”

I stared.

Dick waited a long few seconds before he grinned. “Those were supposed to be jokes. It’ll be less uncomfortable for both of us if you laugh when I try to be funny.”

I found myself smiling with him. “Sorry. Everything has been so crazy since I took the job for Damon. I’m having trouble keeping up.”

Dick nodded. “I can relate. I was there myself when he took me on.”