Undercover Boss: A Dirty Office Romance (Soulmates Series Book 8)
Page 1
Table of Contents
P R O L O G U E
O N E
T W O
T H R E E
F O U R
F I V E
F L A S H B A C K
S I X
S E V E N
E I G H T
N I N E
T E N
E L E V E N
T W E L V E
T H I R T E E N
F O U R T E E N
F I F T E E N
S I X T E E N
S E V E N T E E N
E I G H T E E N
N I N E T E E N
T W E N T Y
T W E N T Y O N E
T W E N T Y T W O
T W E N T Y T H R E E
T W E N T Y F O U R
T W E N T Y F I V E
T W E N T Y S I X
T W E N T Y S E V E N
T W E N T Y E I G H T
T W E N T Y N I N E
T H I R T Y
T H I R T Y O N E
T H I R T Y T W O
T H I R T Y T H R E E
T H I R T Y F O U R
T H I R T Y F I V E
T H I R T Y S I X
T H I R T Y S E V E N
T H I R T Y E I G H T
T H I R T Y N I N E
F O R T Y
F O R T Y O N E
F O R T Y T W O
F O R T Y T H R E E
F O R T Y F O U R
E P I L O G U E
N O T E F R O M T H E A U T H O R
O T H E R B O O K S I N T H E S O U L M A T E S S E R I E S
O T H E R S E R I E S B Y H A Z E L K E L L Y
U N D E R C O V E R B O S S
A D I R T Y O F F I C E R O M A N C E
Hazel Kelly
© 2018 Hazel Kelly
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied, or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
All characters, events, brands, companies, and locations in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.
Edited by Aquila Editing.
Cover Artwork – © 2018 L.J. Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
P R O L O G U E
O N E
T W O
T H R E E
F O U R
F I V E
F L A S H B A C K
S I X
S E V E N
E I G H T
N I N E
T E N
E L E V E N
T W E L V E
F L A S H B A C K
T H I R T E E N
F O U R T E E N
F I F T E E N
S I X T E E N
S E V E N T E E N
E I G H T E E N
N I N E T E E N
T W E N T Y
T W E N T Y O N E
T W E N T Y T W O
T W E N T Y T H R E E
T W E N T Y F O U R
T W E N T Y F I V E
F L A S H B A C K
T W E N T Y S I X
T W E N T Y S E V E N
T W E N T Y E I G H T
T W E N T Y N I N E
T H I R T Y
T H I R T Y O N E
T H I R T Y T W O
T H I R T Y T H R E E
T H I R T Y F O U R
T H I R T Y F I V E
T H I R T Y S I X
T H I R T Y S E V E N
T H I R T Y E I G H T
F L A S H B A C K
T H I R T Y N I N E
F O R T Y
F O R T Y O N E
F O R T Y T W O
F O R T Y T H R E E
F O R T Y F O U R
E P I L O G U E
N O T E F R O M T H E A U T H O R
O T H E R B O O K S I N T H E S O U L M A T E S S E R I E S
O T H E R S E R I E S B Y H A Z E L K E L L Y
“One day someone is going to hug you so tight that all of your broken pieces will stick back together.”
- Anonymous
P R O L O G U E
I’ll always be a fat girl.
It doesn’t matter how much weight I lose. Inside, I know I’ll never shake the pressure I feel to be funnier, more self-deprecating, and more accommodating than other women.
And I’ll always be skeptical of compliments.
I watch other women accept them with ease, some doing so with such effortless grace it’s almost like they go around expecting the niceties to flow. But not me.
When you spend the first twenty years of your life listening to people insist that you have “such a pretty face” and “such a lovely smile,” it becomes obvious that people will say anything to avoid blurting out the truth…
That they hope you won’t sit next to them on their next plane journey. That you embody their greatest fears. That if you’d only lose the weight, imagine how pretty you’d be.
It’s a bunch of bull, in my opinion. The idea that we’d all be better off if we looked the same, voted the same, fucked the same.
Even my mother tended to focus her energy and affection on my dark hair, which has a deep auburn tone that sometimes looks plum-colored in dim light. But I didn’t mind. I was grateful that she never fat-shamed me, though that’s probably the nicest thing I can think to say about her.
I actually remember the first genuine compliment I ever got from a stranger.
It was from a boy I met at camp the summer after fifth grade. He was pretty scrawny compared to the other boys. Kind of a loner. But I adored him. Mostly because he made me feel safe. Made me feel seen.
I wasn’t used to that.
Anyway, we were hiding in the woods during a massive game of freeze tag, taking turns eating spoonfuls of peanut butter from his secret stash, when he said it.
I remember the way I froze with the spoon stuck to my tongue when he brushed my hair to the side. He was so gentle it was like he hadn’t noticed that I was twice his size.
I remember getting chills as he stared at my neck, presumably at the funny-shaped birthmark stamped below my left ear.
“What?” I asked when he dropped my hair and I could breathe again.
“Nothing,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “I just never noticed your birthmark before.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“It’s cool,” he said. “Looks like a sailboat. I like it.” He studied his arms. “I don’t have any cool spots.”
I smiled.
“Too bad it’s not a real boat,” he said, reaching for the jar and dipping his stolen metal spoon inside. “We could use it to sail away.”
“Where would we go?” I asked.
“Anywhere,” he said, shrugging. “Everywhere.”
I watched him suck the peanut butter off his spoon, watched his lips stretch over the back of it as he stared off into the distance. “I’d like that,” I said, meaning it more than he could ever know.
Looking back, though, I wish I’d thanked him. Not just for that moment, but for the many we shared over the next few summers.
After all, unbeknownst to him, his friendship—or at least, the memory of it—ended up saving my life.
O N E
- Alex -
“Why am I doing this again?”
My best friend dropped his head back against the driver’s seat. “We’ve been through this a hundred times.”
“No.” I stared across the parking lot at the gym. My gym. One of my gyms, to be exact. “Y
ou and the board have been through it a hundred times.”
“And your mother,” Jimmy added. “This is what she wants, too.”
“Remind me again why I can’t just sell the company?”
“Because it’s not what you want.”
I scoffed. “According to everyone but me.”
“Look.” He turned the ignition off and angled his body towards me. “I get that you want to sell. I get that your heart isn’t in this anymore. But profits are down. Ever since—”
“Yeah, yeah.” I hurried him with my hand. I didn’t need to be reminded that I dropped the ball when my mom got sick, that the business had suffered in my absence. I had a whole new understanding of what it meant to suffer, and worrying about profits was futile when the most important woman in my life was losing her eyelashes.
“The point is,” Jimmy said, sensing my frustration. “Even if you do decide to sell, we have to turn this sinking ship around first. It’s the difference between you being able to retire from the sale—”
“I can already retire.”
“Well, that makes one of us, and I poured just as much of myself into this business in the beginning as you did.”
I sighed.
“And I’m not the only one who feels that way.”
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek.
“And you’re not the kind of guy who—”
“I don’t need you to tell me what kind of guy I am, thanks.”
“Fine.”
We sat in silence and watched a young woman with a high ponytail fumble in her purse as she crossed the parking lot. She was wearing a staff uniform that matched my own, and I couldn’t help but think she wore it very well indeed.
“Things are looking up already,” Jimmy said as she disappeared through the glass doors.
“Why this branch again?”
“They have the highest member retention rate, and none of the staff know who you are.”
“Which is important because—?”
“Because you aren’t going to learn shit if you go in there as the boss. You’re going to learn whatever the manager wants you to know. This is a much more effective way for you to figure out what is and isn’t working so we can roll out operational improvements as soon as possible.”
I stared at the doors and wondered how closely I’d get to work alongside the woman we’d just seen.
“The owner, Mary, is expecting you today. She’s under the impression that you’ve been transferred from another branch after a week on the job.”
“Why?”
“You moved to be closer to your sick mother.”
I glared at him.
He shrugged. “I really am trying to make this as simple for you as possible.”
I folded my arms and my thin sleeves stretched around my biceps. “What if someone recognizes me as the CEO?”
“Where would they recognize you from? You keep a lower profile than Tupac.”
I dropped my chin. “Tupac’s dead.”
“That’s what he wants you to think.”
“Don’t be a smartass.”
“Whatever. Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said. “Which we won’t.”
We sat in silence a while longer, checking out two more staff members as they arrived, one of whom pulled his uniform on as he was walking in. The other smoked a cigarette outside the front door before entering, causing my teeth to clench so hard Jimmy must’ve heard them.
“See,” he said. “That’s exactly the kind of thing you can’t fix if you don’t know about it.”
“Who smokes outside a gym?” I asked. “That they work at?”
“People desperately in need of leadership?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Seriously, what are you waiting for? Get out of the car already.”
“You want to grab a quick coffee or something?”
“Are you asking because you genuinely need more caffeine for your first day of work in three years?”
“I reject that accusation.”
“Or because you need a pep talk?”
“I don’t need a pep talk.” I also didn’t need to be lectured about work. Taking care of my mom, her cancer, and her bucket list had been the hardest job I’d ever had. “I need you to promise me that if I deem this to be a waste of time, you’ll have my back.”
“Give it a month.”
“A month?!”
“Don’t act like you can’t work in a gym for a month. I used to have to drag you out.”
“It used to be my baby.”
“Well, your baby is having a difficult adolescence and requires your urgent attention.”
“One month.”
“Minimum.”
I groaned.
“Get out of the car, Alex.”
I wrapped my fingers around the door handle but didn’t pull it open. What was I so worried about? Having a boss again? Lying to people?
Or perhaps I was being held back by the very real possibility that I might fail. What then? What if I spent a month working at Pump and couldn’t figure out how to turn things around? I pictured the faces of all the people I’d be letting down if that happened, the people I’d be letting down if I didn’t get out of the car.
I popped the handle open and got out. “Thanks for the lift,” I said, sliding my branded gym bag from the backseat. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Don’t worry,” Jimmy said. “I’m sure you’ll make friends.”
I swung his car door shut, flinching as he peeled off dramatically. Then I started towards the entrance, taking deep breaths of the crisp morning air as I reminded myself that I’d survived awkwardness much greater than this.
T W O
- Gemma -
I was loading more cups into the watercooler’s dispenser when the new guy walked in.
I couldn’t see his face very well from across the room, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way his Pump uniform hugged his toned physique. The bright yellow shirt fell over his pecs just enough to feed my imagination for how the rest of his torso probably looked, and his confident walk made me feel both excited and intimidated.
It had been six months since anyone new had joined the team, and even though I wasn’t in charge of hiring, something told me he was more than qualified to be here.
“Gemma, dear…?”
I jumped at the voice and stopped gawking at the stranger immediately, turning my attention towards Mrs. Rogers, whose pink sweatband seemed strangely out of place next to her heavily wrinkled skin.
“Would you show me how to use the emergency string?” she asked, nodding towards her favorite treadmill. “I lost my footing last week, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I think I ought to start using it.”
“Of course,” I said, leading the way.
She stepped onto the treadmill, steadying her small frame between the handlebars.
“All you do is clip it onto your shirt somewhere,” I said, doing the honors. “How’s that?”
“Good.”
“Now it won’t catch you if you fall, so you still have to be careful. But it will stop the machine, okay?”
She nodded and started punching buttons on the screen.
“Can I do anything else for you?”
“No, dear. That’s all, thanks.”
I walked off, stopping a few feet away just to make sure she got off to a smooth start. Then I walked towards the front desk, moving slowly past the aerobics class Cindy was teaching, a familiar pang of jealousy pinching my gut. Not that I wanted to teach aerobics.
I wanted to teach my own class, something fresh and useful, unlike the stale selection Pump offered. Unfortunately, if the last conversation I had with Scary Mary was anything to go on, that was never going to happen. Not here, anyway.
“Gemma, please report to Head Office. Gemma to Head Office.”
I turned on my heels and hurried towards Mary’s office, knocking on her door as soon as I arrived.
>
“Come in,” she said.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Mary was standing behind her desk, which she’d raised so she could stand all day as she insisted it burned more calories. Not that she had any to spare.
“Gemma, this is Alex.”
The new guy turned around in his chair and squinted at the same time I did.
I stepped forward when he stood up and extended his hand, which was attached to a forearm I was already having wet dreams about. “Have we met before?” I asked, letting my eyes sweep over his sexy stubble and fall down his tall frame as he squeezed my hand in his.
He stared at me with an intensity that made the back of my neck hot, his hand still tight around mine.
Mary cleared her throat, and he let go, leaving my palm strangely cold and lonely.
His eyes searched mine so thoroughly I couldn’t think, much less breathe.
“I’m sure I’ve met you before,” I said, shaking my head.
“Anyway,” Mary said, uninterested in the wormhole I was falling through. “Alex just transferred from the Oak Brook location, so I want you to show him around, teach him how we do things here.”
“Camp Pendy,” he said, as if she weren’t even there.
My eyes grew wide. “No way.”
He laughed. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
I swallowed hard and my palms went clammy.
“Maybe you two could play catch up while you work?” Mary said.
“Sure,” I mumbled, still swimming in disbelief.
Alex followed me out of the office and closed the door at Mary’s request.
“Is it really you?” I asked as I spun around, trying to figure out how my long-lost friend could’ve grown up to be such a hunk.
“Was I that scrawny back then?”
“I don’t mean it like that.”
“Sure you do,” he said. “But that’s okay.”
I glanced down at the floor, suddenly conscious of how rude my shock must’ve seemed.
“Looks like you turned out to be quite the swan yourself.”
I lifted my eyes to his.
“Not that you weren’t pretty back then.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
He shrugged.