Page 120 of Crazy for this Girl

My nostrils flare because he is, indeed, right. He’s mister fucking Harper AKA my new boss.

AKA I’m not working here.

AKA I’m gonna risk those legal ramifications.

Cal apparently hates my attitude, but he can’t stand any kindness either. I’m not sure I can get on that level. There’s no such thing as a kind, shitty attitude. It’s counterproductive and you just can’t do it.

“I didn’t know he was sick,” I deadpan.

“You would’ve if you had responded back to my messages two years ago when I told you I needed you.”

“You said that quite a bit. And I wasn’t looking to lose anything else.” I lift my chin, placing my professional hat back on because he sucked me dry from being happy with anyone else for a very long time. “I can help find you a replacement. I’m sure there’s better out there.”

“I’m sure there are.”

Well, that’s settled.

“I’ll get working on that right away, then.” My palms find the edge of the leather seat and before I can rise to stand, he speaks again.

“Interesting how you can, since you work at a flower shop and here full time, from what I’m told.”

“I manage.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for not being able to take a look at your contract earlier, but I do need to ask one question. Have you slept with Mr. Abner?”

I feel all the color drain from my cheeks at his inappropriate question and as if I’d do something like that. He really thinks so highly of me nowadays, when just a few hours ago—last night—he wanted to speak to me. That I’d fuck my boss to get somewhere.

“Did you know I was Mr. Abner’s assistant prior to today?”

He shakes his head. “No. Your turn.”

“No,” I reply through clenched teeth. “I haven’t fucked your cousin.”

“How are you working two jobs, then, Miss Reese? Is he not paying you enough?”

I squeeze the ends of my chair. “I help my aunt when she’s in desperate need of assistance.”

“Which seems to be all the time.”

“Only when you seem to just show up.”

“Sixteen white roses doesn’t seem like it’d take two people to do,” he counters haughtily. “I’m going to need your mind here, and not else where.”

“Didn’t you just hear me say that I quit?”

“Practice counting before you speak, Miss Reese. You’re going to need it while working with me. I take this company seriously.”

“I am serious about quitting,” I repeat sternly. “This isn’t the work environment I’d like to be a part of.”

“Given our past that I currently, at this time, don’t give a fuck about, that’s your problem. I’m about to be neck deep in bullshit with this location, and while you’re in this office it’s strictly business only.” He leans over his desk. “I need a double black Americano extra strong, the biggest they have. If you want something else to do to make yourself feel more than an assistant, I need to know what changed at this location from sales before it took a shit.”

It’s when the chef that was hired decided to be a tyrant.

It seems like he’s been taking liberties with the menu, coming out of the kitchen to bark at people if they don’t like his food, and causing guests to leave upset.

But I don’t tell him that out loud.

He can read it in an email where we keep our verbal conversations to a bare minimum until I can get out of here.

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