Breaking up with My Boss: An Enemies to Lovers, Office Romance (Love You Forever Book 4)

by Alexis Winter

  She thinks I’m joking? I don’t have a chance to ask, because someone else is walking into the room. Based on how everything suddenly feels strained, I bet it’s Matthew’s father.

  Matthew stands and shakes his head. “Dad, this is my fiancée, Poppy.” He looks at me and I quickly stand up as he continues. “Poppy, this is my father, Matthew Lewis II.”

  The name makes me want to laugh. Of course he’s Matthew Lewis II. I push back my laughter and shake his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, sir. Matthew has told me so many wonderful things about you.”

  He laughs one bitter-sounding laugh. “I doubt that.” He quickly turns away. “Mother, how are you doing this morning?” he asks, bending down to kiss the top of her head.

  “A little tired. This medication has me sleeping my days away, but other than that . . .”

  “Brunch is served, ma’am,” the maid says.

  We all stand and follow along behind her to the outside patio. Walking into the backyard is nothing short of amazing. The garden is beautiful and perfectly manicured with bright flowers and designer-looking trees. The patio is paved brick with fountains and statues. And there’s a long patio table covered in expensive-looking dishes, silverware, and drinkware designed by Martha Stewart herself. In the center of the table is a beautiful bouquet of flowers, surrounded by platters of food—far more than we could ever eat. I wonder what she does with the leftovers, but feel it’s not appropriate to ask.

  “So . . . fiancée, huh?” his father asks as he takes the napkin off his plate and flings it out. “When did that happen?”

  “A few weeks ago,” Matthew answers.

  “Where’s the Audi R8, and why in the world are you driving that Corvette?”

  Matthew’s eyes glide to me and he smirks but wipes it away. “Oh, it got damaged in the parking lot at work. It should be fixed soon.”

  “See, that’s another reason you need to come and work for me.”

  “I thought we’d talked about this, Dad. There’s more than one reason why I live the way I do. I think it’s time you accepted it.”

  His dad laughs. “Oh, I’ll never accept it. My only son wants to go out and live like there isn’t a family empire to run? It’s ludicrous.”

  “All right, Dad. Can we please just have one nice meal together? For Poppy’s sake?”

  He scoffs. “For Poppy’s sake.” His eyes glance toward me. “No offense, honey, but I know my son, and you won’t be walking down the aisle. Not with him at least.” He looks back at Matthew, mouth open and ready to continue, but Matthew cuts him off.

  “Are you fucking serious? Are we really doing this shit again?” He stands up. “You can. I’m done.” He holds out his hand for me and I graciously accept it.

  “Poppy, dear,” his grandmother calls from behind us, and we both stop and spin around. “If it isn’t too much to ask, I would like to take you to tea time next Sunday instead of dealing with these ridiculous children. This is the second time I’ve met you and I still haven’t gotten to speak with you directly.”

  I force a smile and nod. “I’d love that,” I agree.

  Matthew turns us around and we enter the house, stride through it, and walk back out the front door. The whole way, his jaw is flexed and he’s seething. But I don’t push him to talk to me. If my father said something like that, I wouldn’t be happy either. How disrespectful! No wonder Matthew acted the way he did.

  He opens my door and allows me to slide inside—still a gentleman even though he’s angry. He closes it and walks around, taking his place behind the wheel. The engine starts and he revs it loudly before shifting into gear and taking off. I have to hold on for dear life given the way he’s driving, but I hold my tongue, not wanting to add to his discomfort. When we get to the apartment, he goes straight into his office and shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone and wondering what to do.

  Sixteen

  Matthew

  I can’t believe my father. How could he say something like that to her? I mean, sure, we’re not really getting married, but he doesn’t know that. For all he knows, we’re really engaged, and for him to say I’d never follow through tells me exactly what my father really thinks of me. I don’t know how to explain this to her, so I don’t even try. Not yet, anyway. Right now, my first and only thought is to calm down. I don’t want to go out there angry. I might fuck up and take this out on her, and now isn’t the time for that. Not after how we spent our night and morning. We haven’t even been able to address that yet.

  What does this even mean to her? What does it mean to me? I guess we could both go with the obvious excuse and say it was nothing but a moment of passion—that we’d both been wound too tight and were in the right place at the right time. But I know that isn’t the case on my end. However, being with her—actually being with her—was way more than I’d expected. When I thought about how she would be, feel, and taste, I never imagined it would be this good. I feel like I’ve had my first hit, and already, I’m addicted.

  Even as I sit here right now, alone in my office with a strong drink in my hand, the only thing I can think about is getting lost in her again. I don’t want to talk or think or try or plan out our future and how we’re going to move along after this. All I want is to ignore it all—wrapped up in her featherlight touch, her quiet giggles, her soft moans and whimpers, and her hot, welcoming body greeting mine like an old friend. She fits me perfectly, like her body was made with me in mind. We’re like two pieces from entirely different puzzles that somehow match up perfectly. I don’t understand it, but I also don’t want to overthink it.

  I finish off my drink and exit my office, seeking her out. The living room is empty but her bedroom door is closed. I’m sure that’s where she is. I knock twice but open it without waiting for her to tell me to come in or go away. When I step in, she’s just stepping out of the bathroom, her body soaked and covered in a towel.

  She stands there, motionless, watching as I quickly cross the floor and pull her to me. Our lips meet and she wraps her arms around my neck, not even considering rejecting me. Her hands push my suit jacket over my shoulders and it falls to the floor. She busies herself loosening my tie and unbuttoning my shirt. Her hands finally find my belt and she breaks the kiss, watching her fingers as they unlatch it. I shrug out of my shirt and push my pants down my hips, allowing them to fall into a heap around my ankles. I reach for her towel and one quick tug has it tumbling down her body.

  I pull her against me again, kissing her as I step over to the bed. Good thing we’re already so close, or I would’ve had to stop to take off my shoes and pants in order to reach her. I break the kiss and spin her around. Placing my hand on the center of her back, I push her to bend over in front of me. She does as I want and I position myself at her entrance. Without warning, I thrust into her. I slide in with ease, like I’m finally home. I freeze, just cherishing this moment and all the emotions running through my body.

  For the first time since I left my grandmother’s, I feel like all is right in the world. I can finally breathe. I can finally be me—not the man my grandmother and father raised, but the man she’s helping me become. I no longer feel like I’m on top of the world because I have money and nice things. Now, I’m on top of the world because I have her. She makes me a better man in every sense of the word. And while I know I still have a lot to overcome, I want to do it. For her.

  All of these things are running through my brain at the same time, and I have no idea what any of it means. But I’m too lost in her to think about it any further. I pull my hips back and thrust them forward again. My hands are on her hips and I let them fall down to her round ass that’s bent over in front of me. Her skin is perfect—soft and creamy—slightly lighter than the rest of her body that’s been kissed by the sun. There’s not a mark on it. Well, not yet anyway.

  I bring my hand back and slap the skin. She lets out a loud and startled yelp and turns her head around to find my gaze. I stare back at her as I lift
my hand and slap her ass again—only this time, a moan slips from her parted lips that eggs me on to do more. But when I pull my hand away, I see the red print I left behind, and that’s what I wanted. I wanted to brand her body as mine, even if the mark will fade away. I grind my hips against her ass as I reach around, my fingers finding her clit. I work steady circles around it, then change it up to go front to back. Her back arches and she throws her head back. While I tease her from the inside out, my other hand finds her breast and I pinch her nipple, wanting to flood her senses with desire and need. I refuse to remove myself from her until she’s screaming my name. My release rises quickly, but I hold it back, not ready for this to be over. I like this little world we’ve created. I don’t want to go back to where we started. I want to spend every second of the rest of my life right here in this perfect moment.

  Her breathing becomes faster, and her cries get louder. I feel her tighten around me and I lose all control, thrusting into her so violently that we both shatter on impact—nothing but pieces of us both raining down and peppering the ground like broken glass.

  When my hips stop, she falls forward, taking me with her as I fall to her side, wrapping her up in my arms. As I work to control my breathing, I kick off my shoes and shimmy out of my pants. Now that we’re both completely naked, I crawl up the bed the right way—bringing her with me.

  Neither of us has completely found our way back to our bodies yet. We’re both still limp—breathing heavily, hearts racing. But neither of us talks or tries to pull away either. Maybe she’s feeling the same way I am. I like what we’re doing but don’t know how to address it and don’t want to, fearing I’ll screw it all up somehow. We rarely see eye-to-eye on anything. Will this be any different?

  After a long, drawn-out silence, she finally speaks. “Your dad is an asshole.”

  I chuckle. “Yes, he is.”

  She rolls in my arms so she’s looking at me, instead of away from me. “Why does he think you won’t follow through?”

  I shrug. “He’s an asshole, and I guess that’s kind of my track record when it comes to him. I was supposed to graduate college and come work for him. Well, I graduated, but I didn’t come work for him. I decided against it at the last second. I’m guessing that’s what he’s referring to.”

  “So, big deal. You want a life of your own. Why’s that so bad?”

  “To him, it is. He says he built this business so he could leave it to me. He wanted me to have a son of my own and pass it down the line. But if I don’t work there, he can’t pass it down to me. Which means his whole plan to be remembered forever is already failing.”

  “So all of this anger and resentment is because you’re living your own life and not the one he set up for you? I mean, you’re a Harvard-educated lawyer—not exactly a disappointment.”

  “That’s exactly it,” I agree.

  She looks up, her eyes meeting mine as her hand comes up to cup my jaw. “You’re a better man than he is. Don’t forget that.”

  She closes the space between our lips and kisses me softly, sucking the air straight from my lungs. I’ve barely let her in—only given her small glimpses into my life—and she already knows this? How? She doesn’t know everything I’ve been through. She doesn’t know why I act the way I do, but somehow she’s found a way to see past all the bad and find the only good spot that’s left inside me. With each touch, each kiss, and each word whispered between us, that spot grows. I can only hope that one day it eats up the bad, leaving me to be the man she needs—the man she’s suddenly opened herself up to.

  The weekend passes quickly and Monday rolls around. Back to the office we go. But today feels different than previous days. We’ve shared a piece of ourselves this past weekend, and it’s changed everything in our future, even though neither of us has talked about what that change means.

  We laugh and joke and talk on the way to the office. When we get there, we head inside to find the place locked up and quiet. Daniel hasn’t made it in yet, so I hang out by her desk while she gets prepared for the day. I watch as she turns on her computer and gets the phones going. She pulls up the appointment book and stands to gather the needed files for the day. I get overwhelmed by the amount of time I’ve gone without touching her, so I push her up against the filing cabinets and press my chest to hers as I kiss her breathless.

  “Matthew, we shouldn’t be doing this here,” she says against my lips, but makes no attempt to push me away.

  “You’re right. Let’s go to my office,” I reply, my hands already trying to work their way up her skirt.

  Someone clears their throat from behind me and I turn my head to find Daniel standing in front of her desk with a wide grin. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks.

  I turn back to her. “Hold that thought,” I whisper, pulling away and motioning for Daniel to lead the way.

  I follow him into my office and close the door behind us. “What’s up?” I ask, walking around my desk to take a seat while he sits in the chair on the opposite side.

  “What the hell was that?” he asks, eyes wide with surprise and mouth turned up into a smile.

  “Oh, that was . . . nothing.” I don’t know how else to explain it. I mean, what do I say? I can’t tell him we’re just having a fling. That could end badly, then the office would be shorthanded. I can’t tell him we’re dating, because we haven’t even agreed to that yet. I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing. All I know is that I don’t want it to stop.

  “Nothing?” he questions. “That didn’t look like nothing. That looked like something. Are you guys dating now?”

  “What? No.” Deny, deny, deny.

  “Are you just . . . fucking around? Hooking up?”

  I let out a long breath and lean in to talk at a quieter volume. “I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing, man. We’ve been hanging out more. She’s—well, she’s helping me out with a problem. And hanging out so much has been really good for us. We’re getting along better than we ever have, and that’s only made the attraction I’ve felt toward her grow.”

  “Whoa, what attraction? You told me you could have 12 just like her.”

  I laugh at the words he’s throwing back in my face. “That was a lie and we both know it.”

  He laughs but stops to wrap his mind around this whole thing. “Okay, so I’m guessing you’ve hooked up?”

  I nod. “This last weekend. We got into another argument and I don’t know what happened. We ended up sleeping together.”

  “And then?” he raises a brow.

  “And then we woke up and did it again.”

  He smirks and shakes his head. “And then?”

  “Then we got up and went to brunch at my grandmother’s house. We didn’t talk about it.”

  “Come on, Matt. Give me something to work with here. What happened after that?”

  “After that?” I think back to yesterday. “I got into a fight with my dad so we left brunch. We got back to the house and I went to cool off alone in my office, but all I could think about was her. So I went into her bedroom and we slept together again. After that, the rest of the day, we just spent in bed—talking, laughing, and doing it again and again and again—”

  “All right, I get the picture,” he interrupts. “So she’s staying with you?” he asks, suddenly confused.

  Oh, I forgot he wasn’t aware of our arrangement. “Oh, um, yeah. Just for the time being. You know, while she helps me with that thing.”

  “What thing?”

  Her voice comes over the speaker. “Mr. Newton is here for your meeting. Should I send him in?”

  Thank God I don’t have to answer that question.

  “Sorry, pal. I’ve gotta work.” I stand up and show him to the door.

  “We’re talking about this later,” he says.

  I smile and nod, but have no intention of doing so. “Mr. Newton, right back here, sir.” I show the man to my office, taking a longing look at Poppy and those fucking red heels before closing
the door between us.

  Seventeen

  Poppy

  I’m sitting at my desk, staring blankly at the computer screen and tapping my pen off the keyboard. I know I should be working, but honestly, I’m too confused to work. It’s driving me crazy that I don’t know what this thing between Matthew and me is. I mean, he seems just as into it as I do. Especially after he sought me out in my bedroom yesterday. And then again last night after we went our separate ways to sleep. I was almost sound asleep when I heard the soft clicking of my door opening and shutting. Moments later, his hot body was pressed against my back, his strong arms wrapping around me. He didn’t try for sex and neither did I. Instead, we just held each other all night long. I’ve never slept so well in all my life.

  But that has me questioning his intentions and reading into things. Does he want more? Does he want a relationship? What’s the meaning behind all of this? And what exactly do I want? I want Matthew, but I want my version of him. He isn’t just one-sided, and that’s the problem. With the good comes the bad. And I’m not sure if he wants the real me or the fake image of me he has in his head: the one who wears expensive jewelry and goes to the gym and the spa. That’s not the real me. Or has he finally been able to see past that? The worst part about all of this is that I’m afraid to even ask—as if asking will break the magical spell we’re under and everything will go back to the way it was before.

  And even though I’m confused about everything between us, I don’t stop to think when he sticks his head out of his office door and motions for me to join him. I smile, my stomach tightening and filling with butterflies as I stand and walk inside the room. The moment we’re alone, he tugs me against him and kisses me senseless. He carries me across the floor and bends me over the front of his desk.

  “Those shoes drive me mad,” he says, freeing himself from his pants. He begins pushing my skirt up my legs, allowing his hand to run up the length of my leg—all the way to my ass. “And this fucking red lace thong to match . . .” he yanks it down. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asks, taking himself in hand and shoving into me.