Page 16 of Over My Dead Boss
“Swooning because of me, are we?” His voice travels through my ears, but it’s his timbre that penetrates every cell of my body.
I look up and wish those damn eyes were less captivating. “Swooning? I think we both know that wouldn’t make any sense. Allergic reaction to you? Maybe.” I grab onto his arm and feel the muscles move against my hand. “Gotta be the fumes. Should have cracked a window.”
“If you say so,” he answers, makes his biceps dance on purpose, I assume, and walks me over to the couch where I sit down, before he takes the cleaning supplies and brings them to the kitchen. He returns with a glass of water, which I gulp down right away. His pensive expression lets me know that he’s debating with himself what to do next.
“I am fine, seriously. I know you probably feel the urge to perform CPR on me right now to satisfy your saviour complex, but rest assured, I am okay. When I actually need it, I will let you know.”
A laugh that’s cut off deep in his throat echoes through the room. At a joke that wasn’t even funny, which makes me feel weirdly validated, which in turn makes me a little repulsed by myself.
“Yes, please inform me when you require CPR. I might let Dog take care of the mouth to mouth. Really, I was just gauging how big of a hole I’d need to dig for you.”
9
“Don’t bother.” I lean back onto the couch, sweat still dripping from my forehead. “I’d be happy to end up as Dog food. Less work for everyone involved.”
Phoenix nods understandingly. “Very well. How about you go take a shower once you can walk again and I’ll take care of lunch. Pineapple on pizza? Yes or no?”
Slightly bewildered by his seemingly uncharacteristic concern and empathy, I let him know that pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity, and finish my water before leaving to take that shower. Standing under the soothing, warm drip from his much too fancy rain shower head, I can’t keep from thinking about his hands on my hips, strong, as if they could throw me around with ease. And I imagine him taking me—
Well, that settles it. I am officially losing my mind.
I reach for the handle and turn the water cold. Ice cold. Despite regretting my decision a second later, I am glad that it also resets my brain.
I am here to do a job. Not a man. There’s nothing more important than getting this manuscript. It will allow me to provide for the people I love and it will even get me published. It’s what I’ve been working towards half my life and I am closer than ever before.
Still freezing, I step out of the shower and get dressed. Another black tee, now with the words ‘To quote Hamlet, Act III, Scene III, Line 87, “No.”’I have to get different clothes if I want any chance of being seen as a professional.Glancing at the fogged mirror, I confirm I look somewhat put together and roll my wet hair into a bun, hoping for some curls later on. His housekeeper definitely is into him, and how could I blame her? She probably has no idea that his last act in office was to slash all of his employees’ wages, or that my predecessor quit because she couldn’t stand working for him any longer, or that he tells children that there is no Santa (probably.)
When I get back to the living room, three big pies of pizza are already waiting which, judging by their size, should last us a couple of days.
“There must have been a mixup.” Phoenix smirks like the devil himself. “They put extra pineapple on all of them.”
Without missing a beat, I sit down at the table, grab a slice of pineapple-only pizza, and take a big bite. “Think I am an idiot? I saw right through you, Cyrus,” I lie and gulp down the atrocity in my mouth. “I love pineapple on pizza. You’ve got a lot to learn, son.” Another bite while trying to maintain my composure and fake happy-face. “This pizza doesn’t happen to come with any fortune cookies, does it?”
He nods slowly, obviously impressed, and sits down, too. “Well, played, Miss Ray. Well played.”
“You know my last name?” I am surprised for a second, trying to recall if I ever told him.
He nods once more while taking a bite out of his pizza as well. “Had my people look into you. Thinking it would be best to know if I have a serial killer staying with me.”
“Good call. Two serial killers under one roof could get dicey. So, what did you find out?”
“Enough to question a bunch of your life choices, not enough to actually care about them.”
“Ice cold. I like that, makes it easier to dislike you. Not that that’s very hard in the first place,” I say and finish my first slice, not entirely sure if I need to eat another to make my lie stick.
Dog observes us from afar, sitting in her little pillow bed by the window.
“It’s only fair to even the playing field,” I say and reach for the slice with the least amount of pineapple. “You should tell me about yourself, since you probably know all there is to know about me now.”
Another scowl and no answer.
“For example, do your friends know?” I ask.
“Know what?”
“Of your untimely dem— Let me rephrase: of your demise.”
“They know.”
