by Jess Bentley
Of course she doesn’t hold a grudge, but I do. Fred just doesn’t make the criteria for promotion. And he never will. Poor guy.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” comes a voice from behind me.
“Lou!” I smile as I turn around.
Before I can shake his hand, Sunny sails between us, demanding her cheek kisses first.
“Maxwell, love, you look gorgeous!” she smiles at me, her silvery hair in a single braid over one shoulder. “Being engaged agrees with you.”
“I owe it all to you,” I admit, because I know she loves it.
She just sniffs regally and turns around, looping her hand through Lou’s elbow. They drift past me toward the party without another word and I just stand there, speechless for a moment. Landry finally rescues me, pushing a stroller.
“Are you the one who sent him up there for her?” Landry smirks.
“I guess so?” I shrug. “I have to admit I am glad they connected.”
“Yeah, like that was an accident! One day, he just ‘happened’ to run into her at the grocery store. Imagine that!”
“Imagine that,” I repeat with a smile.
“Now we can’t seem to get rid of him,” she groans sarcastically. “They are completely disgusting. Seriously. Just look at them.”
As I watch, Lou and Sunny walk a circle around the room, then immediately duck into the conference room and close the blinds, giggling like teenagers.
“So gross,” Landry mutters.
“Yeah,” I agree, smiling.
Across the room, I see Clarissa notice us. She throws her hand up over her head and waves, then rushes toward us, her arms outstretched.
“Landry!” she calls out. “You came!”
Landry rolls her eyes, then reaches down to unbuckle the swaddled package inside the stroller. It’s so neatly wrapped, for a moment I can’t believe it’s a baby in there. Landry gathers the yellow blanket under her curved arm and pokes delicately at the folds until she opens it to reveal a round, perfectly angelic face framed by light-brown ringlets of baby-fine hair.
“Oh my Goooooooooood!” Clarissa whisper-yells. “Look at him!”
“This is Avery,” Landry smiles, brimming with pride. “He’s amazing.”
“Of course he is!” Clarissa coos as she pokes at the blanket, running her knuckles gently over his chubby, pink cheeks. “Hello Avery! Hello little one! I’m your Auntie Clarissa!”
“Sunny is determined to make sure his first word is Auntie,” Landry explains, rolling her eyes. “It’s supposed to be Mama, isn’t it? That’s what all the books say.”
“Auntie sounds amazing!” Clarissa coos in her goofy, spontaneously maternal voice.
“It looks awesome in here,” Landry tells me conspiratorially, holding Avery so that Clarissa can continue making sounds and faces.
“Thank you for saying so,” I smile. “Are you working?”
“I work for Sunny now,” she explains. “She says I’m exactly what she needed.”
I nod. I see it. They definitely needed each other.
A sound catches my attention on the opposite end of the room and I look past the champagne-drinking employees to the corner, where Frank and Fred are raising their arms defensively, as though waving someone back.
To my surprise, the stairwell door opens behind them, and Greg stumbles through, holding two bottles of Dom Perignon over his head.
“Congratulations, you guys!” he yells, immediately causing the whole room to go silent.
Clarissa stiffens and gasps, temporarily forgetting about little Avery.
“What is he doing here?” she mutters in shock.
“Stay here,” I caution her. “Call security. I will take care of this.”
Greg shakes his head when he sees me walking toward him, his face twisted in a smile that doesn’t seem to have any joy in it at all.
“Maxwell, I should’ve known,” he calls out. “You were a rat in college, and you are rat now.”
“Greg, great to see you!” I smile anyway. “Let’s take this down the hall, okay?”
“Hey, Clarissa!” he yells out over my shoulder. “It finally worked! You finally slept your way to the top!”
My hands clench into fists at my side.
“Greg, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
He focuses on me slowly, as though too drunk to remember why I am standing here. “You know what? There is a good reason I didn’t promote her. A really good reason. You want to know what it is?”
“No.”
“Because I knew she would do exactly what she did,” he slurs overconfidently. “I knew she would bleed this place dry, and I knew you were in on it!”
Frank chuckles behind his hand and I shoot him a warning look. There’s nothing funny about this.
“Nobody’s in on anything,” I answer slowly.
I can feel that all of our employees have gathered around us now, but there is no point in stopping them. If people don’t realize what kind of person he is by now, there is nothing I can do.
“Excuse me, sir?” the security guard asks, coming up quietly beside me. “Is this person disturbing you?”
“Don’t you dare!” Greg objects. “We were friends! I brought you champagne!”
“Yeah, thanks for the champagne,” I answer politely, picking up the bottle as security escorts him back to the elevator.
Frank and Fred glance at each other, and I catch them and stop. I pause until they both look at me, sullen as teenagers, eyebrows raised.
“You guys have something you want to say?” I offer, giving them each one more chance.
“No, course not,” Frank shrugs.
“Okay, then pick up your final checks from Anita. You’re both fired.”
They both look at Hillary in horror, who simply shrugs. I had told her weeks ago that they were both on thin ice, and Hillary assured me that from an HR standpoint, I was in the clear to drop kick them out the front door anytime I wanted to.
That felt good. I have to admit it.
“Okay, everybody!” I call out. “This is a party! Drink champagne, have fun! The entertainment for the evening has ended!”
People laugh nervously, then with more vigor, and in a few seconds they return to their drinks. The DJ turns up the volume and switches to a thumping rendition of a Journey tune from the 1980s.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say preemptively as I walk back over to Clarissa.
She rolls her eyes at me. By the tight set of her lips, I see that she is annoyed beyond what she can tell me.
“He’s just a jerk. And now he is gone. I had him banned from the building.”
“But I didn’t do those things!” she objects. “How could he say that about me?”
“From what I hear, when you took those clients back from him, his whole business collapsed. That was all he had. They closed their doors last week.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“That is the word on the street,” I confirm.
She chews the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “Is it wrong of me to enjoy that?”
“Probably,” I smile.
Standing next to each other, we take a moment to enjoy this entire scene. Our employees, drinking and smiling together. Landry and Avery, standing beside a window. Landry ducks her head to talk to the baby, though he is only months old. She points out the window as she smiles and coos at him. Our newest employee, Nayala, sharing flirty glances with Trevor. She has a gift for sales and her family connections don’t hurt either.
Finally, the conference room door opens and Lou sneaks out, grinning like a fool. Sunny follows right after, a regal smile on her lips even though her lipstick is slightly smudged and her braid has come undone.
“Did you hear about those two?” I nudge Clarissa, pointing at Lou and Sunny.
“Oh, yeah, they are crazy! The things Landry tells me…” She shudders dramatically.
“Looks like they are crazy in love,” I c
huckle.
Lou has never looked happier since I have known him. He offers Sunny a flute of champagne and smiles proudly as she takes a sip. He’s giving her exactly what she wants, complete adoration. Exactly what she deserves.
When she glances our way, her expression turns calculating. She sucks in her cheeks and disentangles herself from Lou’s arm, striding toward us in her preternaturally slinky, ageless way.
“I’m so very happy for you, Maxwell,” she purrs imperiously.
She likes to mispronounce my name slightly, like it is made of two words, stressing the well. When I asked her about it as a teenager, she said Max Well was a much more interesting name than the one Sherry had seen fit to give me.
“Did I ever tell you how Louis and I came to be acquainted?” she begins in her inestimable, practically patented way.
“Oh!” Clarissa exclaims excitedly, then tries to conceal the fact she ever knew anything about their history. “No, uh… you never told us. Well, me. You knew each other?”
“Mmmmm, yes,” she nods mysteriously.
For effect, she pauses to twist and look over her shoulder toward him as though appraising her favorite racehorse or a suit of Peruvian armor.
“You might not suspect it now, but back in the 1950s, Louis Tolliver was a band leader at The Green Mill.”
“The jazz club?” Clarissa gasps. “Seriously? He’s a musician?”
“Of course,” Sunny scowls haughtily. “Of course I would take only musicians as lovers then, until 1972, when musicians simply disappeared from the earth.”
“Musicians disappe—” Clarissa begins, but stops herself.
“I used to go and see him every Saturday night,” she sighs wistfully, twisting the stem of her champagne flute between her fingers. “Louis not only played the jazz flute, the also had the most marvelous tenor voice I ever heard outside of Milan. He would dedicate a song to me every night, and that is how I knew that we would meet after closing for a drink. It was one of the most romantic encounters of my entire life.”
“Wow,” Clarissa breathes, enraptured.
“What was the song?” I ask.
Sunny purses her lips disdainfully, as though somehow this detail is too personal to inquire about. I mean, she has told me far too much about her love life, but this key imagery will not be revealed?
“I’m not sure I should say…”
“Stormy Monday?” Clarissa ventures boldly. “April in Paris?”
Sunny simply rolls her eyes dramatically, but the silence is cut by a tenor voice, undeniably earnest and well-trained, crooning behind her.
“When Sunny gets blue… Her eyes get gray and cloudy…” Lou sings softly, making her gasp in theatrical embarrassment. “Then the rain begins to fall…”
“Oh, Louis!” she cries out loud enough for everyone to hear. “Don’t! It’s too much…”
But old Lou Tolliver is only encouraged by this, and in fact it seems to be like a scene they have played out for audiences before. His voice strengthens with each note until he is full throated, singing with gusto to the rafters.
“Pitter patter, pitter patter…” He continues, taking her hand in his and holding it to his chest. “Love is gone so what can matter… No sweet lovin' man comes to call…”
Everyone begins to gather around, their mouths agape with shock. Lou is about as romantic an old bastard as I can imagine, and I am enjoying the show.
“When Sunny gets blue… She breathes a sigh of sadness… Like the wind that stirs the trees…”
Clarissa takes my hand and holds it tightly.
“Wind that sets the leaves to swayin'... Like some violins are playin'... Weird and haunting melodies…”
Sunny’s eyes are downcast, but I know she can see everyone watching them. It is just like the old days. Just a perfect moment for her.
“Hurry, new love, hurry here… To kiss away each lonely tear… And hold her near when Sunny gets blue!!”
Everyone explodes in roars of applause and howls of approval. Lou takes Sunny in his arms and gazes into her eyes, wet with tears, before kissing her gently.
“That’s so beautiful,” Clarissa sighs and I glance at her, alarmed.
“What,” she sniffs defensively, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “That was amazing!”
I realize I’ve never seen her cry. And she’s never been more beautiful.
“It was beautiful,” I agree, looking straight at her. “Really, really beautiful.”
Our people continue to revel in the music and champagne, gradually filtering away to go home for the weekend, to go back to their families.
“So, we did it,” Clarissa smiles.
“We certainly did,” I agree. “Only one thing left to do…”
She holds her hand out, flexing her fingers. The diamond engagement ring sparkles as I take her hand in mine.
“What about an early summer wedding?” she murmurs.
“Really?” I answer carefully. She has been dodging this question for months. “I was beginning to get the feeling you were still on the fence.”
“Well, you know I don’t like to be pushed,” she smirks, reminding me yet again how stubborn she can be.
“Sometimes being pushed is not such a bad thing.”
“Sometimes,” she smiles, turning to me, finally allowing me to put my arms around her here in front of everyone, in the company that we own together. “Sometimes it’s not such a bad thing. Not with the right person.”
No longer constrained by protocol or procedure, I dare to kiss her, right here under the sign with both our names on it. She melts into me, draping her arms over my shoulders, any concern about us being seen in public gone, for good.
EXCERPT FROM BOSS DADDY
Sawyer
It's been two days since that night in Tokyo. Two days since the long flight home, since the lengthy discussion we'd had that day about what had happened between us.
Was it a mistake?
Yes, it was. There was no getting around that.
But it was one of those mistakes that I couldn’t make myself feel bad about. One that I certainly didn’t want to make Mia feel guilty over. One that we’d repeated over and over again since then—in the car, in the office, and very nearly in the first class sleeping pods of our flight back home.
I couldn’t quit her. I didn’t want to, not even a little.
Even now, just knowing that she is so close—in her little workspace right around the corner—is enough to get me hard as granite.
It’s not a relationship, though. No matter how much fun it might be, no matter how badly I want to lose myself inside her every minute of every day, it’s not anything more than a special secret between two adults.
And even though she’s perfect in just about every way, it can never be anything more than that.
Still, I can’t seem to stop letting my mind wander to that place. That place where she’s not my employee, not my best friend’s daughter. Not the most delicious kind of trouble I’ve ever gotten myself into.
In that place, she's something more. Something I don't have to share with the world or make any excuses about.
In that place, she’s mine.
My office is too quiet. I shove a hand back through my hair, then glance at the clock on the wall. I can practically hear the seconds ticking by. This is why I can't stop thinking about her—I'm not busy enough. I'm still on the high of scoring a great deal for the company and from… everything else that happened in Japan.
I need to focus on today, and today's business if I'm going to have any hope of getting her off my mind for long enough to be productive.
As if on cue, she pokes her head in the door, her warm smile making my dick twitch as I sit up straight in my chair.
“Are you busy?” She asks, her eyes leaving mine for just a moment as they roam over my upper body.
Jesus, this girl. Everything she does, every look and every move she makes is just so fucking sexy.
“Not too busy
,” I shake my head, closing the laptop in front of me so she won’t notice the blank screen. “Come in. Come closer.”
She doesn’t hesitate. Moving with an amount of grace and stealth that I can only smile at and admire, she’s slipping inside my office and locking the door, then closing the short distance between us so quickly that I barely have time to appreciate her beautiful body before she’s right next to me.
I reach out, taking her hand in mine, and that’s all the encouragement she needs. Hiking her skirt up, she straddles me, her small body fitting against me as if it was made to be there.
“Fuck, Mia," I growl, shifting my weight under her as my cock pulses against her. I can feel the heat rolling off that sweet pussy in waves, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to rip those little panties right off her. "Do you even know what you do to me?" Then, before she can answer, "I could get used to this."
I shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t even joke about it, but I can’t think straight when she’s this close to me. And besides, I mean it. Every part of me wants it—wants her—and wants to be used to doing exactly what we’re doing now.
The way she moans as she moves against me is enough to convince me that there's no way I can tell her we're done. No part of me wants to hurt her or wants to say the words.
I thrust my hips up to meet her as she squirms in my lap, covering my face with kisses as my hands move around to her ass. I pull her closer, but it's not enough. I need to be inside her—inside her pussy, inside her mouth, whatever. My cock doesn't care.
It just needs her.
She leans back and smiles at me as if she can read my mind and every inappropriate thought I'm having right now. It's hot as fuck, and I groan as she slides down my lap, pushing me back in my chair as she makes space for herself between me and my desk.
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper, leaning my head back and closing my eyes as her delicate little hands work on unfastening my belt, then my pants. “Hurry,” I demand. “I need this, need you.”
She whimpers and looks up at me, the same need I’m feeling burning in her eyes as she nibbles at her lip. That pretty pink mouth so sweet and sexy that I almost pull her back up again just to taste it one more time.