Page 15 of Romance with Mr. Bossy Pants

“Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” I whine.

Amber is already dressed for work and heading out of the room but stops in her tracks at my complaint. Turning back to me, she places her left hand on her hip and taps her right foot on the floor. Her brow narrows tightly, and without glancing twice, it’s clear that I hit a nerve.

“I warned you about staying up late to work on those slides, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“I needed to finish them,” I whine again.

I turn to my laptop in the corner of the room. The keyboard is littered with sheets of paper and a pencil resting on top of the pile.

OMG! Did I forward the proposal to him? I can’t even recall. I rush to the laptop and start clicking.

“Please, please, please, please. Come on, computer, don't fail me now. You're supposed to be my friend, not my frenemy.” I drum my fingers against the desk and wait impatiently for the screen to come on. Finally, it does.

After a few clicks, I’m scrolling through my sent folder. There, late last night, marked with a single check next to it.

Phew!

“Sent. Thank goodness.”

“Thank goodness? Girl, you’re a few minutes from making the worst second impression at work. Get your booty up from that desk and get on the road.”

I see my reflection on the computer screen. My hair looks like a bird’s nest. Dark circles hang beneath my bloodshot eyes.

Great. Just the impression I want to make waltzing into the office late on a Tuesday.

“Well?” Amber says.

“Help me pick something to wear, please!” I shout as I run into the bathroom. “Something black and boring.”

“Seriously, Chloe? Fine,” she grunts as she rummages through the closet.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Have you seen your eyes in the mirror? It’s literally day two on the job and you’re giving ‘Mad Max’ vibes.”

“Whatever,” I say.

“That Daniel. He’s overworking you already. I knew I’d get to tell you I told you so, but not this early. Jeez.”

I turn on the shower, shutting my eyes as the water flows down my body.

This isn’t Daniel’s fault. Sure, he can be overbearing and stern when voicing his opinions, yet there’s an unusual charm about his commanding presence. Plus, I caught a glimpse of a different side of him last night with his daughter—something softer and endearing.

His face, when not contorted in a scowl, is sharp and defined. His strong jawline hints at a stubborn streak and eyes that, when not narrowed in disapproval, have a sharp glint to them.

“You’re not willing to admit it, but deep down, you know it’s true.”

“Isn’t it too early to decide? I didn’t have a good first day. That’s it. That’s allowed.”

“Or, he’s evil and you’re in for it. You should now at least have an idea of why his previous assistants quit.”

“Not again, Amber,” I wince. “They don’t really matter right now. You’re picking a simple outfit for me, right?”

“Uh-huh.” She scoffs. “Can’t imagine wearing black every day for the rest of my life. What a buzzkill.”

By the time I emerge from the bathroom, dripping wet and only marginally less disheveled, Amber has laid two black dresses on my bed.

“They do matter, by the way—the other Assistants. You gotta look at it from all angles. You’re barely forty-eight hours into the job, and it’s already a high stress environment…” Amber says, tossing a black blazer my way.

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