Page 17 of Power

“Ow.”

Snap out of it. Sober up. No more drinking on weekdays.And since when did I become so clumsy? The last thing I need to do is think my hot, successful, not-in-the-market-for-a-hot-mess-like-myself boss is into me.

I flush the toilet and get out, a round of colorful words leaving my lips as I look in the mirror. Apparently, coffee and satin don’t vibe. “Dammit, and I just bought this,” I whine, taking a wet napkin and attempting to save the poor, underappreciated blouse. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

Giving up, I prepare another cup of coffee for my boss. When I return, he’s thankfully on a call. I leave it on his desk and head to mine. Opening my email, I see a new one from Theo.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Accessible

Miss Evans,

I will need your personal cell number to have access to you at all times.

Theo Monroe

CEO, Monroe Investment Corp

Access to me at all times? What does he think—?

“You look deep in thought.”

I blink and look up at Kyle, the guy from the copy room. “Yeah, I am. Debating how much I really need my job.”

He chuckles. “I don’t envy you, that’s for sure.”

“Seems to be the consensus around here. Did you need Mr. Monroe?”

“Um, no. I know to stay clear of him. A few of us are going to happy hour, and I wanted to invite you.”

Dammit, I love happy hour. I did just swear off drinking during the week, though. Then again. . . it’s karaoke. “You know what, yeah—”

“You’re working late.” Theo appears out of nowhere and dumps a set of reports on my desk.

I twist in my chair. “On what? I didn’t see anything on your—”

“Are you questioning me, Miss Evans? And you. Do I pay you to fraternize?”

Kyle shifts his eyes back and forth between us and waves—mission aborted. My jaw drops. What the hell? Scrunching my nose, I swivel my chair back to Theo. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“His feelings are none of my concern.” He dismisses me and heads into his office.

“Well,” I scoff, “they should be. You could really use a lesson in how to speak to people.” He stalls in his step and turns back around with a slowness that has nerves traveling down my spine. Shit. “I mean. . . just saying.”

He walks to my desk, stopping when his fancy leather shoes hit my heels, and leans down, his face too close to mine. “Do you have a problem with how I speak toyou, Miss Evans?”

His breath smells like coffee and mint. I hold my breath, unable to respond. Why does he have to sound so seductive? It’s on the tip of my tongue to say yes because I don’t deserve to be talked to like that, when my gaze drops to his lips. Wetting my bottom lip, I find my voice. “You can speak to me however you please, Mr. Monroe. It doesn’t affect me either way. Now, unless you need anything else, I have work to do.”

“The email. Reply to it.” Then he storms back into his office, slamming the door behind him.

Jerk.

“Wow, this is record-setting.”

I laugh at Amy as I walk in. “Waiting for my plaque on the wall.”

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