Page 9 of Romance with Mr. Bossy Pants

“I’d love that, but I gotta drop these documents off to Daniel’s house before heading home.”

“Well, that sucks. It’s called a nine to five, not a nine to forever.”

“Girl, nine-five doesn’t exist these days. You know that.” I bury my face in my palms and mumble, “I spilled the coffee so now I gotta clean up my mess.”

“I guess. Just be careful.”

There’s a knock on the door.

“I shouldn’t be that much longer.”

I hear the knock echo through the office again.

“I gotta go now, okay?”

I hang up. It’s definitely not Daniel on the other side of that door; he would have barged right into the office after knocking once. On second thought, knocking wouldn't even have crossed his mind. I distinctly remember how he sauntered in earlier today, without a single rap on the door, just to remind me of my impending deadline.

“Come in,” I announce.

A young man with a friendly smile pokes his head in. The dark mass of hair on his head is neatly trimmed. He has warm brown eyes and a jawline that suggests he spends some time at the gym. His attire is business casual, a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a sleek watch on his wrist. The navy blue chinos he’s wearing complement his lean frame, and he carries himself with subtle confidence.

“Hey.” He holds up a brown paper bag. “Thought I’d drop by with a present.”

I match his smile. He walks over and points to the seat opposite me. “May I?”

“Of course. Please sit. I could use the company.”

“Trust me, I understand,” he says. “I’m Alex. I’m an Executive Assistant just like you, but I work for Mrs. Chen in HR.”

“I’m Chloe Summers.” I notice his lips twitch to the side. “Buuuuut, I guess you knew that already.”

He laughs. “Working in HR has its perks. I know a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that you’re the eleventh Executive Assistant assigned to Mr. Andrews in the last four years.”

“Wow. Is he that bad?”

Yes, Chloe. You got a taste of it today, remember?

He shrugs.

“And what happened to the one who stuck it out the longest? Like, how did he even get to this point?”

“That was before my time.” He leans in to whisper, “I heard, though, that the one who had the longest tenure was his wife, but she passed away. Since then, there have been nothing but complaints, and I’m sure everyone can’t always be wrong.”

My heart sinks with sadness. That explains a lot. I can’t imagine losing a spouse, but it doesn’t excuse his behavior.

I arch an eyebrow, eyeing him suspiciously.

“So, HR you say?”

“Yep.”

“If this is some evil test to trick me into saying something I shouldn’t say, you can count it as a loss.”

“It isn’t a test.” He shoves the brown bag closer to me. “How about we talk about something else instead?”

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