Page 2 of Bossed By The Boggart

The instant the thought solidifies in my head, my spine snaps to attention, straightening me in my seat as I glare at Mr. Ettin.

“What we’re trying to market is vastly dissimilar from the last project. Therefore, it requires a different approach, but it’s nonetheless as comprehensive as the other one.”

My boss gives a noncommittal hum before turning the topic to something else. The rest of the meeting goes smoothly, but I sit there and stew—clearly, the monster doesn’t believe me.

How dare he question my work?!

Everything I’ve ever given him is above and beyond. Partly because I need the paycheck to support my son, among other things, and partly to assuage the guilt that I feel deep down.

No, Wyn, not today. You’re not going to think about it. You ARE good enough.

As if reading my mind, Mr. Ettin calls my name while the rest of my colleagues disperse from the conference room.

“Is something the matter, Wyn?”

I stretch my lips into what I hope passes for a smile. “Not at all. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re grimacing.”

Guess that answers my question.

“Do you find my work lacking?” I finally demand, spitting out the words quickly before I chicken out.

Mr. Ettin’s eyebrows raise. His face is so expressive for something so…fluid. It’s hard to explain how the man looks when he’s so inhuman.

His hair and face meld into one, shifting and flickering, making me think of Hades from Disney’s Hercules. The tips of his hair—face—are the same bright blue while the rest of him is navy.

And although his features are unsolidified, they’re still angular, from the ends of his ears and hair down to his sharp smile complete with pointed teeth.

The only thing more unnerving is the glow of his brilliant fuchsia gaze…well, that and the fact he’s sporting shoulder pads under his white blazer.

Where does he even get them in this day and age?

Mr. Ettin clears his throat, drawing my attention away from his ridiculous suit. For a moment, I forget how to breathe as his gaze runs up and down my body.

The look isn’t lascivious, but something more akin to hunger flits across his face. It’s gone before I can blink.

“Do I find you lacking?” Mr. Ettin chuckles, as if he finds the notion absurd. “Why would you wonder such a thing? Have I ever said anything to suggest otherwise?”

He frowns, worry creeping into his expression. As much as the man annoys me, I soften a little at the sight of his anxiousness because he truly does care for his employees.

“You implied it—earlier—when you said, and I quote, my current marketing campaign isn’t as comprehensive as the last.”

“Ah, I see. I’m sorry you took that to mean I was questioning your performance or worth to the company. In truth, you didn’t look like you were paying attention. I was trying to engage you.”

“Well, I did!”

“Question your worth?”

Yes.

“No! I meant my performance. Why would I question my worth?”

“Why, indeed?”

His tone is light, but his meaning is not, and I narrow my eyes at his audacity. The obnoxious man is trying to get under my skin, but I won’t let him.

Taking a deep breath, I center myself. “Is there anything else, sir?”

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