Page 1 of One Wicked Night with the Boss

Riley

The traffic light was taking forever.

I tucked my portfolio under my arm and dug my cell from my bag so I could check the time.

2:27 p.m.

My heart skipped a beat. I had three minutes to cross the street, enter the massive Victorian that dominated the entire block, and report to my new boss.

And not just any new boss. Jonathan Barnes, celebrated architect, renowned historical preservationist, notorious womanizer, and subject of countless “worst boss ever” posts on the Harvard Student Architect internet forum.

Actually, there were probably more posts calling him a “relentless jerk” and “unmitigated asshole.” Student architects could get pretty creative with name-calling. When you spend fourteen hours in a design lab you have a lot of time to perfect insults.

My phone vibrated, and my best friend’s name appeared on the screen. Eyeing the traffic light, I swiped and put the phone to my ear. “Hey, Lydia. I can’t really talk right now.”

Lydia spoke in a rush, her voice edged with excitement. “Ohmigod, did you meet him yet? What’s he wearing? Is he as hot as his photos?”

I suppressed a smile. “No, I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter.”

“Riley O’Sullivan, of course it matters. The man might be a tyrant, but he’s yummy as hell.” Lydia’s tone turned musing. “Come to think of it, it’s kind of sexy you’re starting this job on Halloween. If you get scared, you can jump into his arms.”

I rolled my eyes—something I often did when talking to Lydia. “There is nothing sexy about architecture, trust me.”

“That’s because you’re too uptight to see the possibilities.” She dropped her voice to a breathless purr. “Bend me over the drafting table, Mister Barnes, I need to show you my dimensions.”

A laugh bubbled in my chest. Even though she couldn’t see me, I shook my head. “You know, I can’t believe Harvard gave you a Master’s in education. You shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the youth of America.”

In a normal voice, she said, “Speaking of graduate degrees, a bunch of us are having a little celebration tonight. Costumes optional. Drinking mandatory. You can come after work and tell me all about your big first day.”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know . . . The temp agency said Jonathan has a reputation for keeping people late.”

“On a Friday?”

“Yeah. The recruiter said he’s a stickler for overtime and to be prepared to stay after hours.”

“Get out. It’s Halloween!”

“Lydia, I’m pretty sure only ten-year-olds care about Halloween.”

She laughed. “Well, if you can’t party with us, at least tell me you’re wearing a slutty nurse costume.”

“No.”

“Slutty witch?”

I stared at the traffic light, anxiety thrumming in my veins. What the hell is taking so long?

Lydia kept talking. “I guess slutty secretary is most appropriate, since you’re going to be his assistant. Did you wear the suit I gave you?”

As if on cue, a gust of chilly fall air shot up my skirt, which had climbed my thighs as I hurried from the bus stop. I tucked my cell between my chin and shoulder so I could tug it down. “Ah, no. It didn’t fit, so I had to borrow something from Jess.” My younger sister was a bank teller, and she had a whole closet of business attire. Unfortunately, she was also two sizes smaller, which meant her clothes made me feel like I’d been stuffed in a sausage casing. I’d thrown a tailored jacket over the white button-down, so the gaps between the buttons didn’t show.

But I couldn’t do much about the skirt. On Jess, it hit right above the knee. On me, it was mid-thigh and so tight I’d spent twenty minutes turning this way and that in my bathroom mirror, trying to figure out how to hide my VPL. In the end, I broke out the tiniest G-string I owned—a black lace number so skimpy it “barely paid the rent,” as my sister put it. But it didn’t show through my skirt, which was the only thing that mattered.

“Because I need this to work out,” I muttered.

“What was that, babe?” Lydia asked.

“Sorry.” I narrowed my gaze at the traffic light, which still hadn’t changed. “I was just saying this is a big opportunity. I can’t get my architecture license until I intern with an established architect. And Jonathan Barnes is as established as it gets.”

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