Page 6 of Dear Grumpy Boss

“You don’t even know what he did,” I argued.

“I know it was bad. I know he hurt you. That’s all that matters.”

With that, a tear tracked down my cheek. The first one I’d allowed since Kara had walked into my cubicle. This wasn’t for Patrick. He didn’t deserve my tears and wouldn’t be getting them.

Another tear fell.

For the way my brother loved me.

Elliot might have been cold. He might have seen the world in black and white. But when push came to shove, he excelled at being a big brother.

“I’ll be there soon, Elise.”

“Thank you, Elliot.”

I put my phone down and stood up. There was a lot I had to do today—and sitting around feeling sorry for myself wasn’t on the list.

It was time to become a ghost.

Chapter Two

Weston

ThemomentIsteppedinto my condo, every last ounce of peace from the weekend was sucked out of me.

The stench of weed hit me as hard as the music blaring from my sound system. Thank Christ for being in the penthouse or my neighbors would have been up in arms. If the roles were reversed, I would have been too.

I tossed my heavy backpack down on the floor in the entry. Not my style, but I’d put it away after I dealt with the music. Then I’d deal with Miles.

Clicking the music off, I scanned my living room. Two glasses of wine on the coffee table, one with lipstick on the rim. The end of a joint in a Baccarat tumbler half filled with melting ice. Something pink and lacy on the carpet. A tie pointing like an arrow to the hallway.

This way to the asshole.

I’d left for the weekend, not telling anyone but my assistant I’d be out of reach. Camping on my own, something I’d done since childhood. I’d needed the quiet to get my head ready for what was to come, and there was nothing like being alone, under the stars, to make everything else feel small, including me.

In my world, where my role wasbig—the boss, creator, CEO—having the reminder I was nothing more than a piece of dust in the grand scheme of things kept me grounded. It gave me peace.

Miles was a peace killer. He had radar, sensing my empty condo from a mile away. It was a much more impressive location to take his hookups than his bedroom at our parents’ in the suburbs. Or maybe he had an apartment now. It was difficult to keep track of my brother and his living situation. As long as he showed up to work and did his job, I remained hands-off.

Invading my home was unacceptable. Not that he cared. He’d been a loose cannon since birth. Our mother pinched his cheeks at his antics. Our father counted on me to keep him in line. A twenty-six-year-old man who needed to be kept in line.

It rankled.

“Miles!” I bellowed. “Get your filth out of my apartment.”

A moment of silence then a feminine giggle. Down the hallway, where the bedrooms were, a door opened. It had better have been a guest room. If he’d fucked someone in my bed again, there wouldn’t be enough camping trips in the world to calm my anger.

It took a solid five minutes for Miles to wander into the living room, still pulling his Henley over his head. His hair was sticking up in every direction, and there was a hickey on his neck.

A hickey.

Twenty-six years old.

Jesus.

He grinned. “Hey, man. I didn’t think you’d be back this early.”

My gaze swept the mess he’d left in my home. My brow winged, and I huffed. “Clearly. Get out.”

---