Page 5 of Grumpy Boss's Secret

Except for Ian. He was thirty-one. I'd read that online in an article listing some of the world's youngest billionaires.

"I guess I'll make it an essential oil diffuser," I said. "No one can arrest me for water vapor."

I sat behind my desk, exploring the drawers like a kid snooping in someone else's office, not looking inside my desk.

"I'll get sticky notes and colored pens," I said. "I'm going to start showing my true colors here, literally. They won't catch me wearing grey here again."

What did it matter what they thought of me? Ian Huntington already didn’t like me.

My morning went well. I didn't have much workload yet, although I was sure that would change during the eleven-hour meeting. I explored my computer and did more research on the company. You've got to know what you're publicizing. At 10:51, I stood up. I didn't want to leave my office. It already felt like a homey little fortress right inside of all my worries. Still, the only way to make those worries disappear was to go out and face them. And try not to be too antagonistic.

"Remember, Jozi, he's your boss," I told myself, sliding on the heels I'd taken off underneath my desk. "He has the right to boss you around. That's why he's called your boss. It's literally part of the job description. And people don't get to be billionaires by being nice."

I’d heard that once. It probably wasn’t fair. But I was scraping the bottom of the barrel here, trying to find ways to get my indignation to stop writhing over the way he refused to call me “Jozi” like I’d asked him to. The company was his, sure. My name was mine.

I straightened my shoulders and walked out of my office. The meeting room was easy to find, thank goodness. It was just down the hall from the foyer, and the wall that lined the hallway was made of glass, so you could see as soon as you turned the corner that it was a meeting room. And Ian Huntington was sitting at the head of the table. This was definitely the right room.

He glanced at me as I stepped inside. His expression didn’t change at all. Considering that he was already wearing a blank, unsmiling mask on his face, it made it look like he was looking at me in disapproval. He probably was.

I beamed back at him – an obnoxiously cheerful smile. Just to be antagonistic. Great. Immediately, Jozi? I walked to the center of the table and sat beside a balding man sipping black coffee from a small white mug.

“Hi,” he boomed at me, setting the mug down on the table. “You must be our pretty new publicist.”

Oh, my God. Already. I set down my leather-bound notebook and pen case on the table.

"My name is Jozi Freiding," I said. "And I'm thrilled to work with you, but don't ever refer to my appearance in any way ever again, okay?"

“What?” he barked. He wasn’t upset, just confused.

"It's objectifying," I said, sitting next to him even though I wanted to move to a different spot at the table. "I'm not here for you to look at; I'm here to work."

He pursed his lips and then smiled at me.

"My apologies," he said, holding a slightly puffy hand to me. "I was just trying to be complimentary. My name's Larry; I'm the head of finance."

I took his hand and glanced at Ian with my eyebrows raised, intending to give him a wordless comment on the fact that other people used first names here. He was looking at me intently, his eyebrows raised slightly.

His blue eyes were piercing. I felt like they passed through me like a splash of cold water. My attention turned back to Larry quickly. I didn’t want to shake his hand for too long. “Is today your first day?” Larry asked me.

"It is," I said, smiling broadly as if that were good.

“Welcome aboard,” Larry said. “You’ll land on your feet in no time,” implying that I wasn’t on my feet yet? Whatever. Don’t read into it, Jozi.

A few more people trickled into the room, including a couple of women I was relieved to see. Then, just before the meeting was scheduled to start, Janet trotted into the room, holding a paper list.

"This is for Jozi," she said to Ian, who frowned at her as if she was bringing in something with no head that smelled. She walked over and handed me the paper. "It's a list of nearby cat shelters and humane societies."

"Thank you!" I said, grinning involuntarily. I took the paper from Janet and gazed down at the list. She'd written out seven locations, complete with address and phone number, in beautiful cursive. With a pink pen, no less.

“Some of them are a little far,” Janet said, leaning over my shoulder. She tapped the paper. “Like this one –”

Ian cleared his throat loudly. Janet glanced at the clock. Unfazed that it was a minute after eleven, she patted my shoulder and started out of the room.

“Have a good meeting, everyone!” she called.

She was met with enthusiastic "thank you and disinterested mumbles. I guess a lot of people here needed that second cup of coffee.

"Well," Ian said briskly. "Now that we're ready to begin, we can discuss the upcoming trip to Greece. So, no getting a cat yet, Ms. Freiding."

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