Boss Undercover: Part 1 (Boss Undercover Series)

by J. S. Badham

  “Zack?” she’d repeated for the fourth time, grasping his attention once he’d hit “send” on the email and attachment he’d needed Olivia, his personal assistant, to forward out.

  “Yes?”

  “Here,” she said, throwing over a tea-towel.

  “What’s this?” he asked, catching it in his one hand.

  “Well, we call this a towel. And what that means is you’re supposed to get off your ass and help me dry up these plates. I think I deserve that, don’t you?” she answered, holding a hand on her hip.

  Zack licked his bottom lip, shutting his laptop lid down as he got to his feet. He’d hoped it wouldn’t have come down to this. How on earth does one dry up? Not trying to sound thick or beyond helpless, but not once had he been told to dry up.

  “C’mon,” she encouraged, passing him a plate. “They aren’t gonna dry themselves.”

  He shuffled his feet over, taking the plate from her hand. Glancing at the tea-towel, he swallowed, then naturally assuming it was the same as drying oneself, he slowly patted the plate. He’d only begun and already she was passing him another from the pile.

  Claire glanced over when she noticed the second plate hadn’t been collected from her hand. “Have you even dried a plate before?” she asked, sighing.

  “Yes, of course. I’m…just overly cautious to make sure it is indeed dry,” he replied, squinting his eyes as he patted around the edges of the plate slowly. Claire chuckled.

  “Move over, slow-coach,” she demanded, taking the plate and towel from his hands. “We’ll be all night. And I need sleep,” she added, quickly swabbing the plate, putting it on the table, and taking the next one from the pile.

  “Well, you’ve just forced me out of a job,” he said.

  Chapter Five

  CLAIRE

  Last night was something. Not a blink of sleep. She’d felt sweaty and was so thirsty that she got up six times just for a glass of water. It was possibly why she was slowly drowning herself in caffeine at seven o’clock in the morning.

  She cuddled her fingers around the mug, exhaling as she stretched her toes a little and sat back in the kitchen chair, closing her eyes.

  “Well, someone looks exhausted. Rough sleep?” She heard a fruity laugh skipping into the kitchen.

  “Eurgh, pleeeeeeeease,” she grumbled in a flat, dead tone. She slowly sat up, blinking quickly, as she couldn’t comprehend the half-naked man in pyjama bottoms standing at the table. He appeared to have forgotten his shirt once again, she thought sarcastically. His chest was nearly bare of hair—except, she noticed, where the strands led downward from his belly button to the hidden places below.

  “You really didn’t get any, did you?” He smirked, rubbing his shoulder. His arm lifted just enough to get a glance at his curly black underarm hair. Why she was finding that so mildly attractive?

  “No,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Why are you up, anyway?”

  “Work.”

  “Oh. I’d just presumed—”

  “In fact,” he interjected as he pulled out a bottle of milk from the fridge, “a little birdie told me we’ll be seeing each other a lot more regularly.”

  Claire frowned, sitting up. “What?”

  “You’ll see soon,” he said as he opened the top cupboard.

  “Cornflakes are in the other one,” she told him before that quizzical expression consumed her face once more. “I’m so confused.”

  “I get it,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a lot to take in. After all, look at me. I’d dig me.” The right corner of his lip tugged upwards.

  “There’s a mirror in the bathroom. Go ahead,” she snorted.

  “Do you mind lending a hand, though?” he replied humourlessly.

  Claire rolled her eyes as she slowly got up. “Well, I’m using the shower, and you’re doing whatever. If you’re gonna enjoy yourself, don’t make a mess.”

  So far, so good. Considering she’d allowed a god-like man into her apartment, she hadn’t cracked as of yet. There was that odd daydream, and the inevitable staring, but where was she supposed to look when two ol’ mean pair of pecs were on display? Now, showering. Her best option was to take her clothes in with her, in case she happened to come face-to-face with him.

  Was it strange seeing men’s shampoo and body wash stacked around the bathtub? It had not even been a day and already she was feeling like she’d been living with this man for half a century. And what was all this? See him regularly? She hoped he’d be out of her hair all day.

  Claire dropped her towel and clothes onto the side, took out her razor from the mini cabinet above the towel rack, then stopped short. Really? Either she was imagining it, or that fella had the audacity to leave the toilet seat up. Men, she scoffed to herself, pinching the edge of the seat and putting it down slowly.

  ***

  ZACK

  Zack was sat on the sofa, quickly typing yet another email, so far, to Olivia, briefly bringing her up-to-date on his whereabouts. Under what seemed like a professional move, not a silly bet with Kyle, he’d prodded her to temporarily file him as an employee working under Sales and Marketing. That was one obstacle out of the way.

  “Well, I don’t know about you,” Claire piped up. He shut his laptop down immediately, glancing over his right shoulder as she entered the living room. “But I’m going to work soon. So, yeah, I’ll see you later or something.”

  “Actually, hold your horses. I’ll get changed,” he replied, sliding his laptop under the blue cushion and standing up.

  “What?”

  “Slide aside.” He gestured. “Wait by the front door, and I’ll meet you there,” he instructed before walking towards the bedroom he had claimed.

  Claire’s nose wrinkled as she turned on her boot’s heel, wondering what on earth he was on about. “What do you mean? I don’t understand!” she called out.

  “One second, sugarbun,” he hollered.

  “What did you just call me?” she snapped.

  It was only seconds before he returned, dressed from head to toe in a dark navy shirt and grey trousers. “I said sugarbun,” he said, ignoring her completely as he sat down on the sofa to tie his shoelaces.

  “Errr, no, no.” She wiggled her index finger, stomping right in front of him. “We are not on a nickname basis,” she said.

  “Sorry, sugar,” he replied, distracted as he lifted his other shoe onto the coffee table and began to tie that lace up.

  “Did you just hear me?” she grumbled. “And look, if you’re implying that you’re getting the same bus as me, then hurry up, because I need to get to work.”

  “I could do with a coffee before we go,” Zack confessed, dropping his hands onto his knees.

  “Go make it yourself.” Claire frowned.

  “I would, but I’m still getting used to the kitchen,” he said innocently.

  Claire rolled her eyes.

  “Thanks.” Zack grinned with a hint of mischief as he took the mug from Claire’s hands.

  Claire frowned, looking elsewhere.

  He brought it to his lips, swallowing only a mouthful before he spat it out.

  “Eurgh, what is this?” he complained. “It tastes like salt.”

  “Oh, dear,” Claire mocked, holding her hands up to her either side of her cheeks. “I must have accidentally put salt instead of sugar in your coffee.”

  Zack hesitated, his eyes full of scrutiny. “Accidents happen,” he muttered, aware she’d deliberately spiked his drink for added measure of revenge.

  ***

  CLAIRE

  “Are you following me?” she hissed, speed walking as she noticed he was hot on her heels. Not only had he caught the same bus, sat behind her, persistently bugged her, he’d also got off at the same stop, refusing all the while to answer her question of where he was going.

  “Nope,” he said, following her up the pavement to the reception.

  “Err, yes, you are,” she meekly squealed, jabbing her hand towards
him as he followed behind her through the glass doors.

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Claire stopped dead in her tracks. Irritated now, she was about to stomp right up to him when he took her hand and dragged her towards him.

  “What are you—”

  Zack pulled her close to his side once he stopped them at the reception desk. “Morning, lovely.” He smiled towards the receptionist, who pinked up, flustered. “I’m Zack Chase. New employee. I need a temporary pass until my card comes through. There should be an email on that lovely computer of yours,” he explained.

  Claire was gobsmacked. He was working here? And second, why was she still gripping his hand? Claire immediately slid out of it, frowning at his gorgeous face as he carried on flirting obnoxiously with the receptionist, whose face resembled a bloody tomato.

  “Thanks,” he replied, eagerly taking the pass out of her hands after she’d done her homework.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Claire hissed, “Since when do you work here? And what gave you the right to pull me like that? I’m not some sort of ragdoll.”

  “It was for moral support,” Zack said, ignoring her fury as he advanced on through the barriers and onwards to the lobby of lifts.

  “Moral support, my ass! You practically dragged me across that floor. Who do you think you are?” she argued, tucking a flyaway of hair behind her ear and watching as he pressed the button several times to call the lift.

  “Zack Chase,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

  They entered the lift then, squeezing into the small gap amongst the several other people congregated all around. It took another five minutes before they reached their floor after stopping at every one. Thank God she hadn’t been shoved into him. It was already enough frustration knowing he was not only living under her roof, but was working here too.

  Claire breathed a sigh of relief as she exited the lift but almost immediately sucked it back in seeing Zack, her roommate, barely an acquaintance, step out too. She would have said something if it wasn’t for Graves heading on over.

  “Ah, I presume you’re Zack Chase,” Graves said, glancing briefly at the paperwork in his hands. “Do forgive me. I’ve only just received all this.” He tucked it under his right arm before offering his hand out. “Clive Graves. Department boss.” He smiled, shaking Zack’s hand. “Wait.” He paused as his smile lingered a little. “Have we met before?”

  Zack swallowed. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Ah.” Graves shook his head. “I must be mistaking you for somebody else. Anyway, what a coincidence that you’ve happened to stumble in with Claire Winter. I would have introduced you to Monica, but she’s absent this morning. She’s my leading second,” he informed Zack. “Anyway, I’ve assigned you to Claire for this week. You don’t mind, do you, Claire?”

  Claire felt like a fly, a fly being eaten by a frog. It was like a never-ending list of cock-ups. First, she’d invited some conceited, pretty boy into her apartment, who apparently works here now, and Graves assigned his ass to her for a week.

  “I know you’ll do it well,” he said confidently, then he glanced at his wrist watch. “Oh, yes. Could you be a star and do these? I don’t think Monica’s confident enough yet, and I know you’ll be able to look these over.” He passed over a red file, “Sales and Marketing” imprinted boldly on the flap. “And terrible news on the promotion, Claire. My office is always available if you need to talk.” He turned around and walked off to his office.

  She could have crumpled up that file in her hands. Oh, she was feeling every inch of her skin burn with anger.

  “What promotion?” Zack asked. He scanned the file in her hands, vaguely interested.

  “A promotion I should have had,” she snapped. “What does he even think he’s doing? He’s taking me as a mug. I should have had that promotion, not doing fucking Monica’s work.”

  “Well, why didn’t you get it?”

  Claire sighed. “Ask her who’s been sharing her pillows at night.” She adjusted the strap on her bag, preparing to head on over to her desk.

  “Claire!” Darren came out the office’s kitchen, holding a mug in his right hand, simmering all too soon as he caught a glimpse of Zack standing next to her. “H-hey,” he began, at a loss for words. “I’ve been looking for you all morning.”

  “Sorry, we got caught up,” she mumbled. “I’m just gonna set Zack up, and I’ll join you in a bit. I could do with something to drink.”

  He nodded, hesitantly shuffling back to the kitchen.

  “Well, looks like I’m never going to have a break from you,” she confessed.

  Zack chuckled lightly. “And that’s a problem?”

  She didn’t answer, resuming her trek to her cubicle at the far end of the office, opposite two gigantic windows open to the city skyline. Claire knew he was following her because about three females turned in their seats, glancing at something or somebody.

  She dropped her bag onto the desk. “Okay, well, I suppose you’ll be sharing my desk for the time being until I’m confident enough I can leave you on your own,” she said, then she began sliding sticky notes, her notepad, and pencil pot to the side to make enough room. “I should probably get you a chair.”

  Claire took off to the front, knowing the office pushed spares up there if they weren’t being used. She’d grabbed one easily, pushing the wheels back, but wanted to stop when she saw Monica, who was supposedly absent, near her desk, nipping at Zack already like a shark. Of course, she thought. Who else?

  She could already smell the excessive lavender perfume Monica wore. That she-devil was literally giggling like a fairy, teasing her hand on Zack’s chest as he grinned triumphantly.

  “I’m sure we could arrange something soon,” he said, running his fingertips across his perfectly sharp stubbled jawline.

  “I’m sure we will,” Monica’s soft, irritatingly high-pitched voice buzzed. Claire tensed with frustration. How she wanted to throw a punch! This woman could prance about all she liked without a thought of worry, and here Claire was, doing her work. Oh, and now her roommate was being lured into her web.

  Claire’s eyes daggered into Monica’s back as she sashayed off.

  “So,” she heard Zack sigh. “Is she that office slut?”

  It took Claire by surprise.

  “Figures,” he continued, sitting down on the desk chair she’d brought over. “She’s desperate as they get. No wonder he wouldn’t be able to resist.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s supposed to be walking you through all this. It’s in her new contract. But…” Claire shrugged her shoulders. “I’m doing it. So let’s just get the basics over and done with.” She sat down in her own chair, set up the computer, and began. “So, as you know, we have a marketing and sales team. Only…I do both, not by choice. Graves like to pile on the work, so prepare for a shit ton of it.”

  ***

  ZACK

  Zack nodded, distracted by her lips. They were hypnotic. Each syllable produced seemed to dance right off her tongue. Was he going crazy? Or he was beginning to see animated rabbits, birds, and even a fucking deer congregate in the background? He blinked. Now, the rabbits were fucking. Great. He wasn’t that horny. It had been less than two days. She cleared her throat. “Zack, did you get that?”

  He nodded, trance-like again. There was a complete forest of animals now.

  Claire sighed. “Well, I’m going to leave you to it now. When I come back, I expect you to have at least highlighted the sales data in this spreadsheet that needs attention. Okay?”

  ***

  CLAIRE

  She got up, then headed to the kitchen.

  Darren was soon on her case. “So? So? What was it like?”

  “What was what like?” she asked, switching on the kettle. “What? How Graves is being a complete jerk and making me do all Monica’s work? Or the fact I’ve got some pretty boy living under my roof and now he works h
ere too?”

  Darren rolled his eyes, shuffling around the table as he eagerly swept up to her side. “Noooo, not any of that,” he muttered, squeezing his hands on her shoulder. “What was he like? Did he do you good?”

  “Darren! We did not have…sex,” she hissed, shaking his hands off her shoulder before reaching for the teabags out of the overhead cupboard.

  He whined, “I was hoping you did. How could you just not, though? Look at the guy. You could be a power couple.”

  Claire snorted, stirring her cup of tea. “No, I don’t think so.”

  She spent another ten minutes lounging about with Darren before she decided it was best she got on ahead with that work Graves had piled on her, and she did need to check if Zack had done as he was told. As if she hadn’t enough on her case, she had to babysit the exact person she was hoping she wouldn’t have to see until evening.

  There was no Zack. And three or four rows had been highlighted at best. Claire could have screamed.

  “Really?” She frowned.

  No sign of him whatsoever. Nor did she have the strength to want to go find him. Instead, she sat down, minimised the spreadsheet, and began trying to get through her own work.

  Half an hour passed. Zack turned up. Only he wasn’t alone. She’d seen him exiting Graves’ office, Monica trailing behind him. Claire would have brushed it off if she suspected Graves was also in there, but she’d seen the man wandering off earlier. So there were two options: either he—scratch that, this was Monica they were talking about. She’d slept with nearly half the male population in the department, even some married men.

  “Sorry, I got a bit caught up,” she heard Zack apologise as he came over and sat down. She ignored him.

  “Claire?”

  Her fingers stomped on each individual letter on the keyboard.

  “Claire?”

  “What?” she snapped. She saw Darren, opposite her, peek his head over the cubicle for a brief second before sinking back down to his chair.