Page 12 of Like a Boss

My cries fall on deaf ears as Hannah turns me and pushes me to the door. “See you at lunch.”

I nod and take another breath before stepping inside the very polished looking office. The reception area is decorated in a stark, sterile white, and I’m almost certain I can see my underwear reflecting off the polished floor.

Three black leather chairs press up against the elongated wall, a glass coffee table with boring business magazines neatly stacked atop it sits a few feet away, and a crystal vase positioned in an inlet along the far wall are the only things this boring office encompasses.

A pretty brunette sits behind an enormous counter and smiles the moment I ungracefully enter. The desk wall she’sbehind has the wordsAUDENTES FORTUNA LUVATcarved into the marble. I have no idea what that means.

“May I help you?”

“H-hi.” I clear my throat, as I sound as nervous as I feel. “I’m Baylee Young. I’m here to see?—”

“Take a seat, Ms. Young. Mr. Fox is just on a business call. He won’t be long,” she says, cutting me off.

“Oh, right. Thanks.” Nervously walking over to the leather chair, I take a seat, tucking my skirt beneath me. The act alerts me to the fact that I have a ladder in my stockings. “Great,” I mumble under my breath.

The immaculate-looking receptionist glances at me. I smile awkwardly, while subtly pulling up my pantyhose.

I was stupid to think I could ever pull this off. Even though my last boss turned out to be a home-wrecking whore, I never felt I needed to impress her like I do Mr. Fox. His reputation for being meticulous, controlled, and anal retentive are all the things I am not.

I’m starting to second-guess myself because if he’s as big an asshole as they say he is, then I know I’ll find it hard to hold my tongue.

The loud intercom buzzes, jarring me from my thoughts. “You can go through now,” the brunette says, gesturing to a grand door to her left.

“Thanks.” Standing, I straighten out my dress. I walk over to the daunting brown door, looking at it like it’s my doom.

My affirmation of ‘you arenota coward’ kicks in, and when my bravery from the weekend sweeps over me, I know I’ve got this. If I can have sex with a nameless stranger, then I sure as hell can do this.

Pushing open the door, I amble in with a staged confidence, hoping my act will be believed. However, that confidence turnsto doggy doo when I stop dead in my tracks, almost tripping over my shoes.

No. No fucking way.

I’m greeted by the broad back of Mr. Dylan Fox. He’s looking out the window, appearing lost in thought, butI know he’s very much alert.

“Ms. Young.” He thankfully addresses me with his back still turned because I thump on my chest, certain my heart just stopped beating.

His deep, rough voice brings back all the memories of Saturday night, and I choke… on air, because standing before me is… my tiger.

However, my mysterious Tiger now has a name, and that name is Mr. Dylan Fox, a.k.a. my boss.

Fuck you, fate. Fuck you and your sick sense of humor.

“Ms. Young?” he questions when I stand frozen and mute.

Please don’t turn around. For the love of god,pleasedon’t turn around. This will only work if you don’t turn around—ever.

But he does turn around, and when he does, I know I’m right royally screwed.

“Blue—” But he stops, regaining his slipped composure. Something I sense doesn’t happen often. “Ms. Young?” he asks, raising a dark, groomed brow.

Oh no, he thinks I’m a stalker. He thinks I have gone allFatal Attractionand his bunny is seconds away from being boiled alive.

“Hi.” I hold up my hand and wave, cringing a second later.

“Hello,” he curtly replies, placing his hands into his pressed slacks pockets.

We stand, openly staring at one another, and I’m almost certain he can see the beads of sweat collecting on my brow. He appears completely unaffected while I’m seconds away from passing out.

“Please, take a seat,” he finally says, pointing to a chair.

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