Boss Undercover: Part 1 (Boss Undercover Series)

by J. S. Badham

  She was leaning on the counter as the kettle boiled when she suddenly heard voices in the living room. There were two other living souls in the apartment, which meant it could only mean Zack was talking to Abbey, or vice versa. Either way, she wasn’t too sure she liked leaving Abbey on her own, for her own safety, and whether he’d find it funny to slip a few details, here and there, of how Claire had her tongue down his throat.

  She quickly poured hot water in the mug, added the tea bag, and stirred it before splashing a dollop of milk in there. She hurried back into the central room. There he stood, as if on cue, that charm radiating from his head to toes, and that smile, lighting up thousands of beacons. It made her toes clench as she observed Abbey’s miracle change in attitude. She was playfully flirting back, constantly tugging her hair behind her ears, and blushing as if she hadn’t just walked into the apartment, bawling her eyes out.

  “Abbey, here’s your tea,” Claire interjected, gripping the handle as she barged in front of Zack and gave her friend the mug. She stood back up, glaring at Zack discreetly.

  “Claire, you didn’t tell me you had such a hunk living under your roof,” she teased, cupping the mug in her hands as her eyes did a once over on him. Zack smirked blatantly. It was actually sickening to think her friend was undressing him right now with her eyes, and under the circumstances, Claire thought it right to divert her off those tracks.

  “Err, Abbey, maybe you could message Ryan now to tell him you’re at mine,” Claire suggested, hoping the hint of his name might push her interest off Zack. This wasn’t out of jealousy, she reminded herself; this was to protect Abbey.

  “Nah, he’ll be fine. I’d rather he didn’t. I’ll phone him in the morning,” she said, ignoring Claire as she continued to coyly undress Zack. “Anyway, your roommate, Zack, has already offered to share his bed.”

  Claire could have choked.

  “I don’t at all mind sleeping on the couch,” he added, dampening the vivid image running around her mind by just a little.

  “No, no, Abbey, you can share my bed. Zack can have his own. There’s enough room for both of us, I’m sure,” she stated.

  Abbey sighed before taking a mouthful of tea. “Wait, did you put any sugar in this?”

  ***

  Claire was tossing and turning on her side of the bed. If there was anything she didn’t miss about Abbey, it was her incessant snoring. Seriously! The woman could snore through a hurricane or topple the sound of a rock band head moshing with its audience. It was barely half one in the morning, they’d only gone to sleep fifteen minutes ago after once again going over Abbey’s situation with Ryan, and already she was fast asleep. Claire had, however, managed to persuade Abbey to text Ryan, just to let him know where she was. But for now, there was no way she was getting a blink of sleep.

  She sat up, dragging herself off the bed as she tip-toed over to the door. The couch seemed more appropriate than ever. It would have been all right if it was like how it used to be; two walls and two doors once separated the pair. She gently opened the door and closed it behind her. The corridor was dark, and her fingers fumbled about on the wall, trying to find the switch. Click.

  Thank God, she thought. Claire felt uneasy standing alone in the dark.

  There was already a red blanket on the couch, so she hadn’t to worry about searching through her room for it. She climbed onto the couch, thankful the other light switch was just arm’s length from the end of the sofa on the wall, switched it off, and then laid back. Not a peep of sound.

  Click.

  Claire opened her eyes, heart thumping through her ears, and defensively held the blanket to her chin. She didn’t know karate, but she knew where to aim, depending on the sex. Thoughts rallied in her head: Did she lock the front door? Was the apartment haunted? Was there a mass murderer in the living room seconds away from stabbing a knife into her forehead?

  She held her breath.

  “What are you doing on the couch?”

  Claire looked up. They were now towering above her.

  “Bloody hell, Zack. You frightened the life out of me,” she sighed, sitting up as she dragged the blanket around her shoulders.

  “Sorry, I didn’t expect someone to be asleep on the couch. I thought you were sharing your room with your friend?” he asked, scratching his left shoulder. She didn’t even feel the need to comment that he was naked from the waist up, those abs shining like some treasure chest unearthed from the ground.

  “No,” she mumbled. “She snores really badly, so I opted for the couch. What are you doing up?”

  “Glass of water.”

  They didn’t say anything as he went into the kitchen, returning with a full glass. Claire was trying to get comfortable, whacking the cushion to plump it up.

  “You could always come to bed with me,” he offered.

  Claire hissed as she turned to face him, like an arrow hitting a bullseye. “How dare you! I most certainly will not!”

  Zack stepped back, holding his hands in surrender, still wretched with a self-satisfied grin. “Babe, I didn’t mean it like that. I was offering for you to sleep on the one side. I don’t snore. You can even create some sort of barrier between us, but…come on—this couch isn’t comfortable.”

  “I’m not sleeping in the same bed with you,” she bitterly refused.

  She tried.

  Ten minutes later, she was knocking on his door. The couch was truly uncomfortable. She had probably tried every body position humanly possible. It was either too hard in some places or the dip in the middle prevented her body from spreading evenly across the surface.

  “My, my…if it isn’t the woman who said she wouldn’t share a bed with me,” he teased, resting his arm on the side door frame. She didn’t say a word as she slipped under his arm, entering the room.

  “Don’t try anything,” she said as she headed for the bed. Zack gently closed the door, ogling Claire as she fought with his bed to best fit her standards. She split it in half with one of the pillows.

  “Now,” she exhaled, sitting up to rest her hands on her hips. “You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”

  “You’re the boss,” Zack replied, amused. “Whatever you say.”

  Slipping into her half, she huffed as she pulled over the duvet, instantly washed with the familiar scents that were Zack: mint shampoo and his usual cologne. Anxiety soon began to crawl over her skin, dawdling at every inch, waiting for him to join her in bed. Claire wanted to peek, yet she somehow suspected his heated glance would reach hers. What is taking him so long? she thought, hugging the duvet further. And why am I so impatient anyway?

  “Sweet dreams,” he finally said as she felt the other half dip. Not even then did the swarm of butterflies settle at her core, nor did sleep confront her.

  Another ten minutes in and she was even more restless than she was before. It was all because she knew Zack was right next to her.

  Sighing, she turned on her back, flopping her arms out to the side of each other. A bead of sweat threatened to break out on her forehead. How was she going to survive the night? How?

  “Can’t get to sleep?” Zack mumbled in the darkness. Even the rough edginess in his tone crawled beneath her skin. What else would she get turned on by? The sound of him peeing? Goodness gracious! Get a grip!

  “No,” she said truthfully.

  “Well, me neither,” he exhaled, then she felt him shuffle as he turned on the bedside lamp.

  Claire felt her eyes being squelched from the light flooding the room. “What are you doing?”

  “So, what do you want to talk about?” he replied, leaning his head on his arms propped up on the pillow.

  “I don’t want to talk about anything. I just want to sleep,” she mumbled.

  Alarm bells started ringing as soon as she felt the barrier being lifted. She turned on her side. “What! Hey!” she hissed. “What are you doing? Put it back. It’s there for a reason.”

  “Well, I want to see your f
ace,” he muttered. He was now lying on his side, looking directly at her.

  Claire blushed.

  “Why do you always look at me like that?” he asked. “Like you want to throw knives in my face?”

  “Because I do.”

  Zack didn’t say a word; his eyes were glued to hers.

  His finger brushed her bottom lip. Not a word. She was fully intoxicated.

  “My turn,” he uttered gently.

  Claire braced herself, eagerly watching as Zack leaned over towards her.

  ***

  ZACK

  He rested his left hand beside her on the pillow, observing how her hazel-coloured eyes shifted between his own, anticipating what she was to do next. To be honest, he didn’t know what he was doing, and it felt like he was being commanded by a puppeteer rather than his own actions. It was like dipping his finger in a jar of honey—Claire was so sweet and yet a dangerous addiction.

  ***

  CLAIRE

  Her chest rose swiftly at Zack’s descent towards her soft, plump lips. At an instant touch, a scintillation of lust drove through, daring Claire to move in closer and, with relish, fondle his naked torso. The need for each other was transparent. Urgency burned through them both. Their lips moved further in a hot synchronization as Zack pushed her further down into the bed. Zack rolled on over to straddle himself upon Claire, trying to repress the hunger by deepening the kiss. An agreeable moan left her lips as he gently tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth.

  “Zack.”

  Her hands impatiently moved towards the waistband of his bottoms. Zack stopped them as he grasped them both, planting them to either side of her head as he brushed his lips against the side of her neck. “Ssssh,” he responded. “I don’t understand…but for once I ain’t listening to my dick. Claire…you don’t understand how badly I want to fuck you right now, but I won’t. I…can’t.” He was still smothering his lips upon her neck. He stopped.

  She held her breath as he flopped back onto his side.

  “I get it,” she whispered.

  He didn’t need to say anything as she turned and slipped herself under his welcoming arm. Oddly, as much as she wanted to explain, it made sense. Her heart knew but wouldn’t confess.

  Chapter Fourteen

  CLAIRE

  Dribble emanated from the corner of her mouth. She was hugging something brawny, and she didn’t want to move a muscle.

  “Morning.” The sound sexily sashayed into her ear drum.

  She smiled, hugging tighter. Blink.

  “Oh, shit,” she cursed, letting go.

  Zack stretched his arms as he sat up. “You might want to consider leaving soon. I hear people get the wrong idea if someone is found where they shouldn’t be,” he said.

  “Abbey,” she said aloud. Then she fought with the quilt as she rushed to the door. It didn’t stop her from stealing a quick glance at him. There was a smile in those eyes, something raw and innocent. Why did she know but didn’t at the same time? There was no time to discuss last night.

  Claire left, tugging on her pyjama shorts as soon as she was out of sight, irritated by the slight twist of her knickers wedged with her shorts. Awkward.

  She stopped. Her door was open. She looked to the left. The bathroom door was open. That meant…shit.

  Claire tried her best to flatten her hair, even took a quick whiff of her top, knowing it possibly could smell of Zack’s cologne from his sheets. But she hadn’t time, because Abbey was just exiting the kitchen, cup of orange juice in hand, and dressed in Claire’s long, blue jersey top.

  “Oh, you’re up early. Ha ha, how long you been up?” Claire asked, anxiously rubbing the palms of her hands together and, as a habit, pressing her lips down on top of one another.

  Her friend snorted. “It’s like eleven. I was up about fifteen minutes ago. Where were you? You weren’t beside me this morning. And I’ve just used the bathroom.” She sipped some of the juice as she wandered towards the sofa.

  “Err, I just got the post,” Claire lied.

  “How? Unless we have a magical door that I don’t know about, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to come from that way.” She pointed towards the front door.

  Great one, she thought.

  As much as she hated Zack’s abrupt intrusion, it may have saved her from Abbey’s interrogation. Abbey soon shut up. It must have been those tiny baby hairs curling down his forehead, or maybe it was the sight of his chest? The list could go on. Shut up, she told herself, refusing to make eye contact with him.

  “Morning,” he said, wandering towards the kitchen. Abbey was staring a little harshly, literally pinning her gaze on every inch of him. Claire had to nudge her with her feet. That wasn’t out of jealousy, she reminded herself.

  “So I’ve spoken to Ryan,” Abbey said, a little less interested in Zack as he moved out of her sight. “We spoke on the phone. I think we’re good, but we’re going to talk through it when I go back this afternoon.”

  “That’s great news. I told you everything would be all right,” Claire replied. “We could have a girls’ day out, if you want. I need a break from work, and my wardrobe needs updating. How about it?”

  “Sure.”

  Zack returned, holding the carton of orange juice. “Well, it was awfully nice to meet you, Abbey,” he said, smiling as he headed towards his bedroom. Abbey blushed, watching as he left the room until he was out of sight.

  “Knock it off,” Claire hissed, scowling at her friend. “You're not single.”

  “Well, if I am, I’m so moving in, and I don’t care if I live on the freaking couch.”

  ***

  ZACK

  Zack was feeling a little less optimistic about Project 42 as he added the final touches to the PowerPoint. In approximately two weeks he’d be fighting for its survival, asking the council to think of the housing and energy crises over the other alternative of a shopping centre. He was beginning to think that three months was pointless now. Kyle had only been messing about when he’d suggested this. It was supposed to a week or so, mess about, see what it’s like living without Benson funding in his back pocket, and then it turned serious. Project 42 became its purpose, and now he didn’t think it stood a chance. So why not just give it two weeks and then return to his old life? Go back to signing business contracts? Go back to having a whollop of money and spending it incessantly?

  He sighed, sitting back in the kitchen chair. It had been almost a month. It wasn’t any different than his normal, except money, signing over business contracts, and attending meetings. It was the same in the respect of doing nothing. His father didn’t want him to expand; his father wanted him to be kept in a pen, following orders, turning a blind eye towards the company’s own involvement in corruption, and continually just playing that rich boy. He couldn’t entirely blame his character on his father. Zack enjoyed sex, like any other man. But what he hated was being minimised to just that. After all, that previous gala proved his identity as the CEO was non-existent.

  And now Claire. What on earth was going on there? Last night, there was no interruption, and yet he didn’t have sex. It made no sense. Was he becoming a monk? She was right there. Again. Wanting him. Nothing was making sense.

  ***

  CLAIRE

  “Yeah, that’s it. Punch the fuck out of it!” Zack motivated Claire as she jabbed the punching bag he held firmly. Claire threw all her strength at it, even as sweat cascaded down her forehead, and clenching her teeth meant the pain soared.

  How on earth she went from browsing clothes to the gym, she didn’t know. It was four in the afternoon, and Abbey had left about two hours ago. She was more like her usual self and fitter in mind to drive. The apartment felt empty without her, sadly. Zack had finished his side of the PowerPoint and then, after a few minutes of encouragement, got her along to the gym.

  “That’s it!” Zack spurred.

  “I—swear—Zack,” she said through gritted teeth. “Stop—staring—at—my—boo
bs!” With a final punch, she hit the bag to give herself an immediate break.

  Zack chuckled, cuddling his arms around the bag. “I can't help it, love. You’re teasing me right now.” His gaze roamed the black sports stretchy tank top and three-quarter joggers she wore.

  “Pervert,” she hissed, picking up her water bottle from off the side. Zack smirked, joining her as she sat down on the matted floor to catch her breath.

  “But you feel tons better, don’t you?”

  Claire nodded. “Although,” she paused, taking a sip from her bottle, “I would much prefer I was doing damage to your face rather than the bag.”

  “How lovely,” he said, then he slapped her thigh gently. “Come on. Let’s get you on the weights.”

  Claire whined. “What? The weights? Zack, I need a break…you’ve had me working for half an hour on that.” She jerked her bottle towards the punching bag.

  Zack’s lips curled agreeably. “Call that exercise, honey? I burn that many calories in sex.”

  “Shut up, Zack!”

  She managed with a slight struggle to get back onto her feet, reluctantly following Zack towards the set of weights. She watched as he placed down his own drink and comfortably lay back on the bench.

  “You can spot for me,” he told her.

  Hesitating for a second, she eventually joined, standing above him so his head was looking up towards her. Then he began to lift the bar off the safety ledges and push the weights up with incredible strength. Claire was not going to lie, but the sheer sight of this gave her goose bumps. Every muscle was working. This was just exactly like something she had read from one of her books—she remembered it was about a personal trainer and client. Only difference was this was real, and that was entrapped in the world of fiction.