Page 6 of Savage Bosses

She spins on her heels and storms away. I have to shut my eyes and count again. So many days I’ve wanted to curse her ass out, but as I said, I need this job.

“That is exactly why she has her very own thread on that Boss Be Damned site,” Mira says turning to look at me. “They all agree she’s a bitch.”

I was glad I found the chat room online. It’s a great place to vent. I also realized I’m not alone. Tess is bad, but reading about other people’s horrible bosses lets me know I could have it much worse.

“I’m really getting tired of her.”

Mira shrugs. “We can always catch her in the parking lot. I’ll hold her down while you kick her ass.”

I burst out laughing, lifting my mood momentarily. “The sad part is, you’re dead serious.”

“Damn right I am.”

The rest of the day goes by quickly. After running errands for Tess, I did a little research on Niccolo Basille. Apparently, the man doesn’t like cameras. There are no good images of him online. They are either blurry or at a bad angle. However, his track record in the hotel industry is phenomenal. At the young age of twenty-five he bought his first hotel. Within two years, it became one of the top luxury hotels in the US. Since then, Basille Hotel and Resorts Corp, has been one of the leading luxury hotel providers.

To be the lead designer on that project or even part of the design team would be an amazing career achievement. Hell, it would do wonders for my dwindling bank account.

Thank goodness my car will be ready for pick up by tomorrow afternoon. Grabbing my stuff out of the Uber, I’m shocked to see Marcus’s SUV in the driveway. He usually gets home about an hour after me.

Stepping into the small rental home, I am nearly knocked out by the loud noise of the television. When I walk into the living room, I spot Marcus sitting on the couch surrounded by beer bottles along with a few of his friends.

“Oh, hey babe,” he says, glancing at me before focusing back on the TV. Before I can reply, the room erupts in an uproar. Marcus is on his feet cheering.

“That’s right. Pay me my money,” he shouts. The others in the room hand him cash. He collects the money with a smile on his face. “I told you fellas. I’m the man when it comes to these games. I know what I’m talking about.”

He makes his way over to me. Stopping in front of me, he places a chaste kiss to my lips.

“What are you doing home so early?” I ask.

The room grows quiet except for the rumble of the basketball game on TV. It’s like his friends know something I don’t.

Marcus rubs the back of his head. “I quit.”

I wait for the punchline to the joke. Neither of us had the freedom to quit a job without having another one lined up.

“You quit?” I repeat.

He shrugs before walking past me toward the small kitchen. I follow behind him. He pulls a beer out of the fridge, opens it, and takes a swig all while turning to face me.

I wait patiently for him to explain.

“That old man thought he was going to talk down to me. I’m Marcus motherfucking Williams. Two time all-American and three-time National championship winner. I was the sixth-round pick in the NBA—”

“And now you’re unemployed,” I growl. “You’re not the first or the last person that’s had to deal with an asshole boss. I do it on a daily basis.”

I understand how hard this transition has been for him. To be so great at something and to work hard for it all your life but to no longer be able to do it, sucks. But this is our life now.

Taking a deep breath and then blowing it out, I calm my temper a little. “Look, Marcus, I know you had bigger dreams. I understand, but we must face reality. Our bills, and that rising credit card debt isn’t going to go away because you once played in the NBA. Baby, we are supposed to be a team, and right now I feel like I’m the only one showing up to the game.”

He glares at me, not saying a word. Placing his beer bottle down, he storms over to me, his nostrils flaring.

“I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” He walks out of the kitchen and back into the living room. He speaks to his friends briefly before my front door slams shut. I close my eyes and lean against the kitchen wall.

Everyone told me that I needed to be patient with him. They warned me that it would take time for him to adjust. I’ve been doing it for the last two years. When does it end?

Instead of dwelling on our argument, I walk into the living room and clean the mess he and his friends left behind. Once I’m done, I shower and crawl into bed. I spend an hour researching everything I can about Basille Hotel and Resort Corp before finally calling it a night. Surprisingly, when I close my eyes, dark brown ones appear, and a beautiful straight set of teeth accompany them.

CHAPTER 3

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