Page 12 of Dear Grumpy Boss

My hand goes to my temple. “No.”

“What did you—”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

She puts the pen down with a calmness that scrapes against my temper. “It’s not up for discussion.”

My pointless retort is cut off by another flash of lightning and boom of thunder.

Sasha chews on her lower lip, eyes wide as she glances outside. “Are you worried about the weather?”

“No. I’m not worried about the freaking weather.”

“Well, I am. The party’s in like three hours. And this downpour…” She checks her phone and looks up. “What if the staff—”

“The hotel is like… across the street. If any of the staff can’t make it, then they don’t deserve to celebrate with a party.”

She gasps. “That’s…awful, Zayn.”

“I stand corrected, Mouse.” I press my hand to my chest, feigning repentance. And I can see the edges of the smile already curving her mouth. “They don’t actually deserve to work at my company.”

She sighs. Her tits rise and fall.

I’m fascinated by everything to do with them. I want to fall asleep with my face tucked in between them. And for a midnight snack, I could suck on them and get her off. And because I know it will make me hungry, I’d eat her out. Then I’d feed her my—

“They’re notallbad.”

My wet daydream is fractured by something in her voice. Something like…pain. I jerk into a seated position, glad for the cover of the throw pillow on my lap. “What do you meannot all bad?”

She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and clicks the pen. I know all her nervous tics and that’s a major one. “I meant they’re all mostly nice, Zayn.”

Lie.

“Nice or kind?”

“What?” Her eyes widen.

“Gramps taught me the distinction years ago. Are they nice to you, Mouse?”

Her eyes shine brightly at the mention of her grandfather. Another thread of connection that tugs us together and binds us.

For a lauded genius, I’m such a fool. All I’ve ever wanted in life has been sitting outside my office.

“You remember everything he said to you after all these years?” she asks, leaning forward.

“Of course I do. Now,” I say, leaning forward too, “is the staff here kind to you?”

Her mouth wobbles and her shoulders bow inward. As if she’s trying to make herself smaller. “Not really.”

My chest tightens so hard that I can’t breathe for a second. Her ache whips around me, mocking me. How many things did I not know about Mouse except that she’s a fantastic assistant and all-around wonderful human being?

“Tell me.”

She shakes her head.

“Please, Mouse,” I whisper, fighting the urge to jump over the ridiculous coffee table and pull her into my lap.

“I…you’ll get mad and fire them. I…I don’t want that on my conscience.”

---