Falling For Her Bad Boy Boss (Island Girls: 3 Sisters In Mauritius)

by Zee Monodee

  Your one hour is ticking down.

  After pulling a typist chair at the heavy steel desk, she sat down and glanced at the other people in the room. They gave her quick peeks from under their lashes, yet, not one stepped up to offer some help or show her what material she needed to work with.

  Fine. She’d get no help? No bother at all. Didn’t she deal with her kids on a daily basis? This couldn’t be any worse.

  Taking a deep breath, she browsed through the piles of papers on the table. News reports from wire services. Bingo.

  Neha banned all thoughts from her mind as she skimmed the sheets. Pulling all the relevant information for the day, she classified them according to the five categories of newsworthiness. Timeliness, extent and importance, prominence, proximity, and oddities or deviations.

  Having found the ones she’d use for both sections, she tackled the five “wh—” questions of news writing—who, what, where, when, why. Gathering the answers as she went along, she drafted her news reports, taking particular care in formulating her leads with appropriate and concise language.

  Finally, she set it all down in the appropriate format, with each news item on a different page for the radio bulletin, and using the two-column layout of TV news reports.

  She stacked the sheets in front of her and glimpsed at her watch. Ten to two. She was well ahead of her deadline. Standing up, she addressed one of the girls in the office. “Excuse me, could you please tell me where I may find the man who gave me all those instructions?”

  The girl smiled faintly. “That’s Mr. Warrington. He should be in his office. It’s behind the mirror, at the left of the entrance lobby.”

  Neha thanked her and made her way out towards the office.

  Logan Warrington. The co-owner of this branch of the network. New Zealander, former heavyweight boxing champion. No wonder he looked like a hulk.

  With a wince, she recalled how Lara had barged into her place the previous day, armed with a folder on the company and its owners. How did Neha think she’d prepare for an interview when she didn’t know who she’d be dealing with, Lara had questioned.

  Aghast and with fury smouldering in a steady boil under her skin, she had bitten back her words and let her sister give her a run-down of Global Village Media Studios, its functioning, and also who was responsible for what at the offices. Feeling like a small kid an adult took tremendous patience to teach, Neha had let Lara rattle on about the information.

  She had to thank her sister, though, for otherwise, she really would’ve had no idea who, and what, she was up against. Logan Warrington’s reputation painted him to be as tough as they came, someone who’d put the worst reality TV bosses to shame. When he’d become a sportscaster after his retirement from the ring, he’d said everything like it was and had taken no bull.

  And to think she would go up against this man … Could she stand up to him? Did she want to?

  On the threshold of his office, she stopped, right in front of the mirror that had swung open to let the big man out. Probably a one-sided mirror only. Logan Warrington must’ve already seen her approach. He had the advantage everywhere. Did he believe it gave him the right to be rude, though? He hadn’t introduced himself. Manners counted for something even if you stood at the top of the food chain, didn’t they? This notion fuelled her with the grit she needed to face him, and after a steeling breath, she knocked on the mirror.

  After a few seconds, a “come in” resembling a roar resounded from the other side. She pulled the door open and walked into his office with resolution making her feet light and her step purposeful.

  Her buoyant tread however grew heavier as she approached his desk, like she were dragging her sandals on the thick carpet. He fixed her with his penetrating eyes, their intense depths sucking the breath from her, his commanding presence drawing the air around them.

  Everything in his surroundings seemed to be swallowed in a vortex with no bottom. A vortex named Logan Warrington. Such was the man’s powerful magnetism and charisma. She found herself at a loss, both for words and movements.

  He trained his gaze on the stack of documents in her hand, and Neha swore the paper caught fire when he kept looking at it. The heat touched her fingers, tickling and teasing with their scorching licks, to travel up her arm, to her face, when his gaze followed the same path.

  “You’ve finished?” he asked in a dry voice.

  She snapped out of the hypnotic spell. Then, she extended her hand to give him the reports.

  He caught it in his firm grip, his fingers an inch from hers on the cover page. The lick of fire came back, jumping from his hand to hers. She flinched and pulled her fingers away. The documents remained anchored in his grasp.

  He caught her eyes with his, and her mouth went dry as she parted her lips.

  What did this man have more than any other, that he could affect her in such a way?

  An intimidating and ruthless predator would have the same effect, she reasoned with herself, and he was just a man, however alluring and dangerous he looked. A measure of control seeped back into her, making her throw her shoulders back and tear her gaze from his.

  “Thank you,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice came out soft, not at all the harsh barking he’d uttered so far. “We’ll let you know of our decision shortly.”

  This time, the edge of ice and contempt in his tone hit her.

  So much for having thought a human being lay behind the predator. He had no heart.

  She gave him one final glance, her gaze lingering on his hand as he placed the documents on his desk. His knuckles seemed bloodied, the scabs a dark, caked red. He’d hurt himself?

  Serves him right. She hoped the injury burnt and made him extremely uncomfortable.

  But then, she caught herself. Why was she thinking like a vengeful, immature child when she was a mature mother in her late thirties? Shaking some sense inside her, Neha however found her gaze going back to his fingers.

  He seemed to pick up on her staring, and he peered up at her, his dark eyes catching hold of hers and keeping them captive. A flicker passed over his irises, lighting them in the relative darkness of the room.

  She shivered and dropped her perusal, noticing his cut knuckles again. “You should put an Elastoplast on that.”

  He fixed her for long seconds, and seemed to give an almost imperceptible nod as he loosened his tense jaw.

  Had she really broken through his shell? An irrational elation grabbed her, but it crashed in shards when she realized who she was dealing with. Blast it, what was she thinking? This man had as much feelings as the most ruthless of animals.

  Yet, why did he make her tingle all over?

  Suddenly discomfited beyond reason, with the iron control she exerted on herself slipping from her grasp, she said her goodbyes and whirled around.

  Her breath came out laboured when she exited the office. All to do with the way the epitome of the bad boy that was the station’s manager made her feel. Tongue-tied and at a loss. Defenceless and vulnerable. Hot and totally bothered.

  She shook her head. This couldn’t be allowed to go on. The more distance she could put between her and Logan Warrington, the better.

  Chapter Two

  Most people would welcome the coming of Friday. It meant a break from work and two long, free days ahead.

  In the media world, the opposite happened. Saturday and Sunday meant the rest of the world with free time, which implied switching on the radio and the television and opening the pages of the newspapers wide over the breakfast table to catch up with the events of the past week.

  Logan pressed the back of his head to his chair’s headrest and closed his weary eyes. As the station manager, his duty stated he had to run the show. Credit for success would go to his whole team, and boos of failure would come right at him. What had he been thinking when he’d accepted Griff’s offer to try out this endeavour? The launch loomed three weeks away, and they still hadn’t eased into cruising speed with the m
ock conditions.

  A knock came, followed by the swoosh of the door as it opened and brushed the carpet in his office. He popped his eyes open to stare at Griffin walking in.

  “I don’t recall inviting you in,” he said with a bored tone. He had no wish to be civil right then.

  The other man brushed his remark away with a wide smile. Logan groaned. How could Griff remain always cheerful, as if he ran on a permanent high of Scotch whisky? The man exasperated him, to say the least. And he’s one of the nicest guys you know.

  He also has this tremendous propensity to get stuck in trouble, another little voice chided.

  Speaking of trouble, he had yet to have a proper talk with his business partner about the stupidity of his actions the other day.

  However, Griffin brought up the subject before him. “Have you decided anything about Neha?”

  Logan fixed his stare on the lanky man. “I have. And the answer is no.”

  Griff threw his hands up. “Aw, come on, mate. Why not? I saw her test. She’s good, I’m telling you.”

  He glanced at the folder on the black wire-mesh tray in the corner of his desk and pulled it out to peruse the sheaf of papers inside.

  A whiff of sweet scent reached his nostrils. Bloody hell, her perfume hung all over the documents. Subtle, delicate, lingering. Exactly like the woman herself. She’d been in his thoughts for every single day of the past week.

  “She’s not landing the job, Griff. Get used to it.”

  “Why not? Tell me what’s wrong with her capabilities, and then I’ll consider whether you’re being level-headed or simply a pig-headed mule.”

  Bugger, Griff was trying his luck. Yet, throwing his fist into the Scotsman’s face would not solve the problem or address the issue. Not the streets of Wellington here, where punches were the law.

  “All right. There’s nothing wrong in this test. The news is concise and clear. The leads and lead-ins are brilliant, tying in at precisely the right level and never repeating any word between them. The language is accessible. The red thread never falters and runs through all the information smoothly, and the format is perfect. It’s one the best darn news editorials I’ve ever seen.” He paused, his gaze urging Griff to remain in his seat and not retort back. “However, the principle of this interview is wrong. This is why I’m putting my foot down.”

  Griffin stood. “What principle? I found us a very good candidate, for a vital job we still need to fill in.”

  Logan dropped the papers and closed the folder, the movement causing the smell of Neha’s perfume to cloud his senses again. Bugger. This grated on his nerves, and his temper roused over Griffin’s stubbornness. Blowing his top off would do them no good; time he got a hold on his anger.

  “Griff, sit down.”

  His friend remained where he stood, hands on his hips.

  Logan was about to bark out the request when he caught himself. “Griff, please sit down. We need to talk.”

  The other man reluctantly moved back to the chair and dropped his weight in it.

  “Listen, mate. When we ventured into this partnership, we agreed you’d take care of everything regarding administration and the financial and legal sides of the project, while I would be solely responsible for the station’s running.” He stopped for emphasis. “Including who to add on the staff.”

  Griff rolled his eyes. “Blimey, Logan. You’re so pissed off because I bypassed your authority?”

  “No,” he replied in a calm tone. “You bypassed the rules and regulations of the house. What if the head office in London heard we’d appointed someone who didn’t apply like all the other candidates? Didn’t it occur to you how any one of those candidates could probably sue us for this?”

  “Then why did you allow her the interview?”

  “Because, she could’ve said we’d denied her an interview when the egg you are already assured her we’d give her one.”

  His control was threatening to slip to the very edge of the cliff. Why couldn’t the bloody Scotsman understand this?

  “You think I’d be stupid enough to go against the rules?”

  Logan sent him a glare validating the statement.

  “Okay, if it’s what you think. But—” he stopped, as if for emphasis. “I didn’t come out of one of the best London universities with an Llb in Law and Management for nothing. See, there is a clause stating we can appoint anyone we deem fit for a job after an interview and a two-week on-the-job trial.”

  Bugger him. He cursed. Griff had anticipated his manoeuvre very well.

  “Okay,” he said. “You may be within the scope of the book, but you’re way out of my book. I hate privileges, Griff. Everyone has to earn his keep. Neha Hemant hasn’t done so, and she’s not getting the job. Full stop.”

  ***

  “He doesn’t want to give you the job because he thinks you pulled strings to get an interview.”

  “What?” Neha yelled into the receiver. Feeling sorry for Griffin’s ears, she apologized.

  What the fack was all this about?

  “I’m sorry, Neha. I tried, but I couldn’t make him bend.”

  She huffed. “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

  “You sure you’ll be okay?”

  “Yes. Yes. I’ll be fine. Thanks, Griff.”

  “You take care, eh?” the man said softly.

  “I will. You, too.”

  His gentle concern pacified some of her fury. Cutting the call, she took a deep breath to try to calm herself down.

  Inside, she let the scream loose.

  How could he? How dare he? He thought she’d wheedled an interview out of Griff through her connections?

  Speaking of the connections in question, her thoughts went to Lara, the full brunt of her anger turning onto her elder sister. Without pausing to think, she pressed the speed-dial number for Lara’s mobile.

  The call took a long time to reach, and seven rings to get her sister to pick up.

  “Yes?” Lara’s voice came through thick and low, as if she were waking up.

  At two in the afternoon?

  “You said I’d be given the same consideration as any other candidate,” Neha exclaimed.

  “Hmmm?”

  The soft reply incensed her. “Stop playing dumb, Lara. How could you do this to me?”

  “Do what?” There came the sound of bed covers being swished to the side. “What’s gotten a bee in your bonnet, Neha?”

  “I can’t believe you’re in bed at this hour!”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve been in meetings all this time and only got in a couple hours ago. Of course I’m entitled to some sleep.”

  “At two o’clock?”

  “Sweetie, it’s six a.m. here in New York.”

  New York? “What are you doing there?”

  “Conference,” Lara replied with weariness. “Never mind. What’s gotten you so high strung that you’re yelling?”

  “I’m not yelling,” she yelled, and realized she’d done so one second after the words had left her lips.

  Shrugging the notion off, Neha couldn’t dislodge the anger from her as easily. Who cared if Lara had just gone to bed? The woman would look like an anti-ageing advert even if she went without sleep for days. Hadn’t it been the case, too, when Lara’s youngest had been born prematurely? Don’t think of it.

  “About the interview. Griff just called me with a big fat rejection. And you know why? Because Logan Warrington thinks I pulled strings to get an appointment. Blast it, Lara. I just about died so much I was humiliated.”

  “No one dies from humiliation, Neha.”

  She snorted. “As if you would know.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing. You can’t do anything because it would come across like I made people apologize for me.”

  “Neha, listen, sweetie. You said yourself you had nothing to lose. So if it went wrong, just let it go, okay?”

  Neha bit her lip. There was so much obvious truth in her sister�
��s words. How could she have let this get to her?

  “Listen,” she said. “I’m sorry I yelled.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I so didn’t expect this.”

  “I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry, too. It’s my fault you’re in this predicament.”

  The anger crashed, leaving her spent. What really had gotten a bee in her bonnet, as Lara had so rightly—she flinched—pointed out? Drat, she was in over her head here, with no explanation why.

  “Go back to sleep,” she told her sister.

  Lara gave a small laugh. “No can do. I would’ve needed to get up at six-thirty, anyway, got a meeting at eight. I’ll go soak in the tub for a while.”

  “All right. When are you coming back?” she asked, in hopes of bringing the conversation back onto non-loaded territory.

  “Tuesday, hopefully, if my flights aren’t delayed.”

  “Well, I’ll see you next week, then.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Neha cut the call.

  After placing the phone on the kitchen table, she then let her forehead drop to touch the smooth wooden surface.

  What had gotten into her? She never lashed out at anyone.

  Damn Logan Warrington. All his fault she found herself wedged in this tight spot. Never in her life had anyone told her she’d done something not by the book. So how dare he think so?

  Afternoon turned to evening in a haze of red-toned anger and grey disbelief, the intense colours merging in her brain to provide a strangely disturbing, stomach-heaving hue that made her want to wretch as bad as morning sickness. Trust such a beast of a man to turn everything topsy-turvy, so even morning nausea happened late in the evening. When she realized what she’d strung together with Logan’s name, mortification flamed through her. Morning sickness meant pregnancy, which, in turn, meant sex. Sex with a hunk like Logan—

  No! She had to push these notions into the dark, unused corner.