Page 17 of Like a Boss

Internally counting to three, I slowly turn, very aware that he still hasn’t moved. When I meet him face first, those breaths leave me gasping for more. No matter his arrogance, I can’t deny I’m so attracted to him it hurts.

What is the matter with me? Am I really that fucked up?

Has Scott’s infidelity short-circuited my good sense because the old me would never find someone this egotistical attractive? But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe the old me was a boring stick-in-the-mud who needed to lighten up.

Either way, that person is long gone because this is new the Baylee—2.0. And this new Baylee doesn’t take shit from anyone—her hot, incredibly sexy new boss included.

I stand my ground, ensuring my body doesn’t betray me when he continues standing in front of me, his enormous frame blocking my exit. “Is there anything else, sir?” I ask when he makes no attempt to move.

I make no secret that every time I address him as ‘sir,’ I’m internally flipping him off.

His mouth twitches, and it’s gestures such as these that confuse me. One minute he’s Satan reincarnate, and the next, for a split second, he’s human. The human who made my body hum like no one was ever able to before.

He steps out of my way.

I try not to be too obvious as I practically run for the safety of the exit. Just as I’m about to yank open the door, his hoarse voice stops me in my tracks. “By the way, Ms. Young, I like your shoes.”

Peering down, I see the shoes in question are the ones I wore Saturday night. The same ones I wore when he was fucking me over the arm of the sofa. The same shoes that were digginginto his back, drawing him closer as he was nestled between my thighs.

Touché Tiger, you may have won this round, but you’ve just shown me that you’re human after all.

I’m surrounded by mountains upon mountains of paperwork with no end in sight.

The entire day was an utter disaster, as I had no idea what I was doing. But I’d rather cut out my own tongue than ask Mr. Asshole for help.

His comment about my shoes revealed that he too, at some point, had thought about our meeting. Maybe his tough exterior was his way of coping with an awkward situation? Or maybe he’s just a sociopathic jerk?

I’m betting on the latter option.

Sighing, I look around my cluttered desk, seeing no end in sight any time soon.

“Hey, pretty lady. You ready to go home?”

“Ha! That’s not going to happen in this millennium,” I quip, looking at Hannah over my tower of paperwork.

“He expects you to do all of this by tonight?” She sweeps her hand out over my desk incredulously.

Looking at the clock on my computer, I pop my gum calmly. “Actually, he expected this on his desk by five. So it’s actually an hour and two minutes late.”

“He surely can’t expect you to get all of this done. I mean, today is your first day.”

I sarcastically laugh. “Tell that to The Antichrist.”

She shakes her head. “No thanks. I like my job. I thought he’d go easy on you because?—”

And she raises her eyebrows.

My finger flies up to cover my lips. “Shh. These walls have ears.”

She laughs. “Okay, well, call me when you’re done, and I can come pick you up.”

“It’s okay, Han. I’ll be here all night. I’ll just catch a cab or train.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Go enjoy your sofa.”

“Okay, love you. Don’t work too hard,” she teases over her shoulder.

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