Boss Undercover: Part 1 (Boss Undercover Series)

by J. S. Badham

  “Mr. Benson, I apologise, but that is that. We haven’t officially decided, so your chances of maintaining this land, although slim, can be secured. You just have to be willing to present your project to the council and prominent members of the local community. If so, I’ll email you the details if you decide not to withdraw,” she said, straightening up a little before bidding him goodbye as she turned towards the people congregated in the centre of the field.

  He was about to kick off until some fairly pudgy woman scooted on over, soliciting his attention. “Mr. Benson?” She held out a hand. He was hesitant to shake it and rightly so when she introduced her business. “I’m Kelly Brookstones. I work for Label Works. Unfortunately, the project manager couldn’t make it today, but he sent me out to discuss plans about this site. I presume you’re aware we’re the UK’s leading corporation in the shopping industry, and of course, we have plans to construct here. I’d strongly advise it would be best if you consider withdrawing. We’d be happy to take this off your hands,” she said, a sinister smile jumping out at him.

  Zack frowned with a dry, short laugh. “Oh, so you’re the competitors. I don’t think I’m exactly convinced to reconsider my options. Do I look convinced?” His frown stretched as he arched his right brow.

  “Mr. Benson—”

  “Kelly.”

  “You’ll be doing yourself a favour if you withdraw,” she said, proudly stiffening up.

  “I don’t think I’m willing to do so. I guess we shall be seeing each other soon,” he replied, daggering his eyes at Sandra, the council official who returned, probably hoping Kelly’s sweet talk had done the deal. “I’ll expect you to contact me,” he instructed to Sandra before turning and heading away alongside Wickes.

  “Absolute bullshit,” he muttered to himself.

  ***

  CLAIRE

  Don’t say it. Why are you thinking it? Stop. Where was Zack? Okay, she said it. It’s done.

  But for real, she was a little concerned. No. Not concerned. Interested? No. How could she make it sound like she wasn’t bothered, while she was wondering where on earth he was? How about let’s just give no thought to it? After all, she should have been bitter, considering Graves had plopped another file onto her desk asking her to trim and tidy it up. And who’s work should it be? Monica’s.

  Darren was holding a cup of tea as he came on over. “Bloody hell, how many files you got on that desk? All product datasheets?” he stated, leaning on the inside wall of her cubicle.

  Claire sighed. “Blame Graves. He keeps piling Monica’s work on my desk. Whether it’s intentional or not, I don’t think that’s a good sign for giving her the promotion.”

  “Damn, babes. You should report that or tell him straight to his face,” he suggested, shaking his head as he prodded his finger into his cup of tea. “Ouch, it’s a bit hot.”

  “I’m thinking of telling him because this is getting ridiculous, but then I’m also hoping he might change his mind if he sees that I’m completing the work,” she claimed, propping her elbow onto the desk and leaning her head into the palm of her hand.

  “Or he might just continue to do so and pass your work off as Monica’s,” he objected, kissing his teeth. “Oh, yeah, I have another date this Saturday. Just like yours and Jason’s. How cute.”

  “We’re not going on a date.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah, whatever you say.”

  Darren scooted around to his cubicle just as a great force of energy rocketed past her, then sat down, abusing the chair beside her, and threw his phone, apartment keys, and wallet onto the desk, missing the computer monitor by inches. Her face was a look of concern as she asked if he were okay.

  “What’s got your pants in a twist?” she remarked, hoping humour would fix his attitude.

  “Not now, I can’t handle your crap,” he snapped. Zack sighed, running his hand through his hair, not aware at first that his bitterness had offended her.

  “Oh, sorry. I’m sorry I was trying to show some concern. Fuck you, then,” she hissed, turning in her chair and trying to resume whatever was on the screen. It turned out to be just a blank, open Word document.

  “Ah, I didn’t mean it—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Just do the task I’ve assigned,” she interrupted rudely.

  ***

  ZACK

  Zack felt incredibly bad. It wasn’t his intention to upset or offend her. He was just peed off about the council and that land he’d secured for constructing renewable homes. Zack was still trying to wrap his mind around it all. Someone had breached the contract; there wasn’t supposed to be any mention of the land being renovated. How on earth Label Works found out, he didn’t know. And now, his anger had annoyed someone else. There is just no winning, is there?

  “Claire,” he meekly said but soon shut up.

  He decided it was best to leave her be.

  At around one o’clock, as Zack expected, Graves announced to the department that Project 42 was pending.

  “As of this morning, all departments have been notified that Project 42 will remain pending. Instead, we’ve been asked to produce a team in support with other leading department teams to essentially speed up on planning and form one that will be presentable to the council and leading members of the community as plans have suddenly been altered due to a competitor,” he explained, fresh sweat glimmering on his forehead from under the ceiling light above, and there was the sight of sweat patches every time he lifted his arms up. “Please remain aware that I’ll personally be selecting a team today who are required to stay overtime to receive instructions. Thank you.”

  “Claire?”

  Still as stubborn as a mule.

  ***

  CLAIRE

  She couldn’t find the will to answer him. She was deeply offended. As much as she liked to say she despised the guy, a lot had happened in four days. They’d kissed, rambled on, and were developing a sort of love/hate relationship. But there was no way she’d fall for him, like that book she’d once read that told the story of two lovers falling for one another after hating each other at first sight. No way. This wasn’t going to be no cheesy romance. This was real life.

  After a while, she relaxed a bit and was about to approach him when an email notification swooped onto her screen. “Great,” she grumbled, leaning back in her chair. Turned out she had been chosen as one of the lucky few who would be participating with this mission to getting Project 42 back on track. So was Zack.

  “What?” he dared to ask.

  She exhaled. “We’re both on project duties.”

  He didn’t seem to be fussed when she glanced over.

  “Oh.”

  And oh was just how she felt when five o’clock came around, and she, Zack, and three more stood outside Graves’ office as if they were waiting to see the headmaster. Graves soon came out, wearing a blue dotted white shirt, sweating a little in places, and his grey hair combed back.

  “Come on in,” he said.

  Everyone slipped in. She took the far corner nearest the pale green wall that looked like it was stuck in the eighties, including the cliché plotted plant that desperately needed water. Graves took the lead, standing in front of his desk, backed by the giant window looking out to neighbouring skyscrapers and the darkening sky.

  “Again, congratulations on being the select few who have made it through. I’ll try not to keep you long, because I expect to go through this in more detail tomorrow, but for now, I’m going to make it very clear that Mr. Benson expects a high amount of effort. This is important towards Project 42’s progress,” he explained, demonstrating with the use of his hands the severity of the situation.

  “So.” He paused, glancing around at every single face. “There’s five of us. So, Claire, I’m partnering you up with Zack, considering you’re mentoring him anyway. The rest of you, team up. Unfortunately, there’s no dropping out of this. I’ve chosen you lot for a reason. So tomorrow morning, nine a.m. sharp. You
’re free to leave.”

  Several members of the group headed through the door, leaving Claire and Zack last. She was leaving too until Graves called her back.

  “Claire, I want to thank you for chasing up on Monica’s work. Again, I apologise that you didn’t get the promotion, but it was a sharp competition between you two. You understand, right?” His tone was beyond patronizing.

  “Actually—”

  “Okay, good talk.” He smiled, ushering her out of the door. It slammed behind her.

  “Everything okay?” Zack asked.

  “No, but I can’t do shit about it,” she confessed aloud.

  “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I had a shitty morning, but that gave me no excuse to talk to you the way I did,” he apologised.

  “I suppose I can forgive you,” she teased, grabbing her bag off her desk.

  “Good, because I really don’t want to be castrated, thank you very much,” he remarked, running his hand across his jaw.

  “Too bad. I left my garden clippers at home,” she joked, smiling to herself, her back thankfully facing him. She preferred the ambiguity of her body language; she’d rather he didn’t see her face.

  It was exhausting being stubborn, so it was probably why she let it slide and forgave him. He should have considered himself lucky because her stubbornness could stretch on for days if she wanted. Claire liked to think she held a world record for it. And that was saying something.

  The pair headed out of the building, Zack close behind, looking critically at his phone while Claire led the way towards the bus stop. She was thankful she hadn’t needed an umbrella when she looked at the forecast because there was no way her flimsy cargo jacket could fight against rain.

  “So what did he exactly say to you in there?” Zack prodded, his phone tucked away in his trouser pocket now.

  Claire exhaled, tucking her hands into her pockets. “It was about the promotion I didn’t get. And thanking me for doing Monica’s work,” she replied earnestly, accepting that this was just the way things were.

  “Shit,” he cursed, scratching the end of his nose, suddenly bashful on the subject. Although, if Claire recalled, she had seen the pair walking side by side earlier. Possibly, something did occur. Not like she cared. Psssf. It wasn’t her problem. Just problematic doing Monica’s work, that was all.

  “Yeah, well, that’s life. Until Graves leaves, that’s what we’re stuck with. A male whore,” she grumbled, defeatedly looking at the pointy end of her heels. “I think that about summarizes him. I do care about not getting the promotion, but I wouldn’t have minded if I didn’t have to do her work. It’s stupid.” She looked up and acknowledged the scrutiny painted across his face as he stared off into the road. “And now, we’ve got this project, which means I’ll have to catch up with my work. It’s not like the top dog is aware of that. I got last month’s datasheet to do yet before I can send it to accounting. And I’ve got tons of customer sample questionnaires, and our clients, and our shareholders—bloody tons of work! Gee, I honestly don’t know how I cope with stress these days.”

  Zack remained quiet, not breathing a word. She was kind of hoping for a response, perhaps a shared understanding, but then she remembered he’d just started on the job, and like she was beginning to suspect, he hadn’t had to handle this sort of stress yet. Claire had kind of manipulated a back story for him—he was a privileged boy, probably middle class, never worked a day through University and just got into his first job. Maybe that was a bit harsh.

  “So,” she piped up, leaning herself against the tall wall that circled around as part of the accessible, disabled walkway. “Look, I’m not judging…or maybe I am.” She paused, licking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “But are you sure this is the kind of work you want to do? I mean, you don’t look—I mean, you look like you should be in modelling or some other business. And no, that is no reflection on my opinion towards you. That incident didn’t mean a thing.” She cleared her throat, irritated at the vivid images flunking to mind.

  ***

  ZACK

  Zack chuckled, a daring smile broadening across his lips. “No, it’s okay, you can’t help the way you feel,” he said, pausing momentarily as she rolled her eyes. “I mean, they say never judge a book by its cover, right? I guess…I wasn’t cut out for all that razzle dazzle, even if I look like I could be on the front of a Gucci product,” he joked, then he paused for a few seconds. “I have a confession to make.” He smiled, leaning his right arm on the wall to face her.

  “What?”

  “I used to own a small business, technically,” he lied. “But it went wrong. So I left it.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He kissed the front of his teeth, rolling his head to the left side. “I wasn’t allowed to express my creativity. You see, although I owned the business, I didn’t. You get me? No?” he hinted, continuing to explain as she shook her head. “Well, there was someone above, like there always is. He didn’t like the direction I was taking the company, so, well, we could never agree. So I left. Money ran out eventually, so I couldn’t buy him out. He was really a partner, if you want to put it like that. I needed a job, so here I am.” He tried his best to appear convincing despite the smile he held.

  It was kind of funny, to think of it. Zack lied, but it wasn’t all lie. His father deeply disapproved. He didn’t want his son to channel renewability into the scheme of things. But Zack wouldn’t run out of money, nor could he really leave unless his father or the board, whom he suspected were tight together, hired someone else. Not that it would look good on his father’s behalf, hiring someone who wasn’t a blood relative.

  “Oh.” She slowly nodded, standing up from off the wall as the bus pulled up to the curb.

  “Does that answer your questions?” he sneered, sitting down beside her on the patchy, green-clothed seats. She appeared convinced by the expression on her face, but that didn’t mean she was completely satisfied.

  Claire rolled her eyes, smiling just a little. “Oh, of course.”

  “And my stuff? I don’t really like materialistic things.”

  Claire snorted. “So, what, you don’t call a bed or wardrobe or anything else for that matter important?”

  “Oh, yeah, but your apartment was already well equipped. So I needn’t bother,” he said.

  ***

  At around seven, they’d managed to break free from the waves of traffic and returned safely to the apartment. Claire held a self-satisfied smile; it was like a trophy she could wave about as she humourlessly watched Zack attempt to chop up carrots. That was another thing he had to soon confess: he barely knew how to cook. It was also his turn to cook.

  “I honestly can’t do this,” he moaned, dropping the knife on the side of the chopping board.

  “Yes, you can,” she insisted. “Literally, you’ve managed two slices. You can do the rest. It’s not rocket science.”

  “I could seriously chop off my finger,” he argued. This situation was an entire insult to his masculinity.

  “No…no, you can’t. Not if you just take your time. How on earth you’ve managed to survive all these years, I’ll never know. Just, here,” she said, taking the knife and ushering him aside. “Watch.” Then she began slowly chopping the remaining carrot. “See? Easy.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “I refuse.”

  She dropped the knife and planted her hand onto her hip. “And so you’re just gonna live off take-away menus? Because I am certainly not cooking for you. If you want to have the same meals, you’ve got to contribute. If not, you’re on your own, buster,” she said.

  Zack sighed, playing with the edge of his white shirt. It was like a magnet, because where else did her eyes dart next? “I’m sorry,” he gleefully replied. “It’s a little hot in here, don’t you think?” He watched as she awkwardly looked away, swallowing hard.

  “I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work,” she remarked.


  “I mean…” He continued waving his top about. “It’s so hot right now. I think I need to take my top off,” he teased.

  “Don’t you da—”

  With a swift move, he took it off. What else could her eyes do but praise his layers and layers of muscles? She immediately scoffed, looking away.

  “Ah, much better,” he hollered, pumping his arms forward and back that impressively flaunted his toned, masculine physique.

  Claire frowned. “Idiot.”

  “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Zack cupped his hand to his ear. “I’ll come closer.” When he stepped forward, Claire jogged back a couple.

  “No, no!” she squealed as he chased her around the kitchen.

  Zack soon grabbed her tight, laughing as she squealed helplessly. She certainly wasn’t complaining at the two broad, bear-like arms snaking around her.

  “I swear—you—are so infuriating,” she said, struggling to fight free.

  She was still laughing even as he let her go.

  “Oh God,” he exhaled, a little out of breath. “I think this calls for a take-away, don’t you?”

  Chapter Nine

  ZACK

  Saturday came.

  And it also brought along with it another pile of work. Project 42. Yesterday brought the schemes of things together. They simply had to convince the council that people wanted their concept. Even if Zack hadn’t been assigned to the task with Claire, he would have nosed in somehow, considering this was significant towards the development. And if there was, let’s just say a traitor, someone fiddling with data, it’d be the perfect time to catch them out.

  They’d been planning it all yesterday and some this morning. Now, he had just gotten out of the shower, wiping the soap suds from out of his ears with a small hand towel as he crept towards Claire, who was still working hard at it. He glanced over her shoulder, watching her detail their shared information by presenting it as a mind-map for reference before they’d work together to type it up neatly as a PowerPoint presentation.