Page 7 of Grumpy Alien Boss

But I'm keeping up. More than keeping up. Every impossible task he's thrown at me, I've knocked out of the park. This V-Truth thing is just another puzzle to solve.

My phone chimes with a calendar alert. Shit. Mr. Rook's flight lands in thirty minutes. I spring up from his chair, my heart racing as I pull up the photo I took of his desk arrangement before I commandeered it.

"Okay, okay..." I shift the Mont Blanc pen exactly three inches from the laptop. The brass desk clock goes precisely between the family photo and the crystal paperweight.

Perfect. Not a single item out of place.

I scurry to his private bathroom, my reflection showing against the marble floor. The mirror reflects back a woman trying too hard to look professional while fighting a hopeless crush. I smooth down my blouse, adjust my pencil skirt.

"Get it together, Livvy."

But who am I kidding? Every time he walks into the room, my pulse skips. The way his presence fills the space, how his voice drops when we're alone going over reports...

And sometimes, when I'm focused on work, I catch his reflection in my computer screen. The intensity in those red-brown eyes as they follow my movements.

I fish my lipstick from my purse. One quick touch-up of Cincinatti Rose, and?—

A metallic glint catches my eye. Something small and red on the floor near the toilet. I bend down to investigate, picking up what looks like a guitar pick, but feels different. Smoother, almost like polished stone.

"Weird."

I toss it in the trash and head back to my desk. Mr. Rook will be here any minute, and I need those reports ready.

The door swings open and Mr. Rook's commanding presence fills the room. My heart does that stupid flutter thing as I grab his coffee and rush to meet him.

"Welcome back, Mr. Rook. Black coffee, fresh from carafe."

His fingers brush mine as he takes the mug, and his smile makes my knees weak. Those red-brown eyes crinkle at the corners, warming my insides like a shot of expensive bourbon.

"The Martinez contract came through yesterday. I had legal review the terms, made the suggested edits, and sent it back for signatures." The words tumble out as I follow him to his desk. "Oh, and I rescheduled the board meeting to accommodate Mr. Chen's travel delays."

God, listen to me babbling like an eager puppy. But I can't help myself - I want him to know how well I handled everything while he was gone.

"The quarterly projections are ready for your review, and I reorganized the Asian market portfolio based on last month's metrics." I tap my tablet, forwarding the files to his screen. "Though I did hit a snag accessing the V-Truth holdings data-"

Mr. Rook sets down his coffee, that slight smile still playing at his lips. My cheeks burn. Here I am, practically tap dancing for his approval like some desperate kid showing daddy her straight-A report card.

But dammit, I worked my ass off these past two weeks. Every deadline met, every crisis managed, every detail perfect - just like he demands. I just need him to see that, to know he made the right choice hiring me.

"You have performed exemplary work, Ms. McGee."

My face splits into a grin before I can stop it. The praise washes over me like summer rain, and I have to physically plant my feet to keep from bouncing on my toes.

"What was that last item you mentioned? About V-Truth?"

"Oh, right." I pull up the file location on my tablet. "I found it buried in the Vietnamese holdings database while compiling the quarterly report. The access keeps getting denied even though I have full clearance for that sector."

Mr. Rook's expression darkens as he leans over my shoulder to look at the screen. His cologne tickles my nose - something spicy and expensive that makes my head swim. But the tension radiating from him snaps me back to focus.

His fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up command prompts I've never seen before. The furrow in his brow deepens with each keystroke.

"In the future, if you find any more V-truth files, please contact me immediately." His voice drops to a dangerous octave. "And under no circumstances attempt to open, transfer, or delete the files. Is that clear?"

The shift in his demeanor sends a chill down my spine. Gone is the pleased boss from moments ago. This is something else - something that makes the air feel thick and heavy. I manage a quick nod, shrinking back slightly.

"I said, is that clear?" The snap in his voice makes me jump.

Heat flushes through my body, my spine stiffening as that familiar McGee stubbornness kicks in. Before my brain can stop my mouth, the words spill out.

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