Falling for His Boss

by Rosie Praks

  Thinking of better lunch alternatives, she grabbed the phone and rang her personal assistant. As soon as she heard Darcy’s voice, she snapped out her instructions.

  “Darcy, grab me a salad, rice rolls, and a bottle of mineral water.”

  Salad, rice rolls, and mineral water. Salad, rice rolls, and mineral water. Darcy recited the items to himself like a litany, those words rolling off his tongue, embedding in his memory, a bit like a steak sandwich on top of bread, one of his all-time favorite snacks that he would never forget. He was positive and more than a hundred and twenty percent sure he could recite those items back to the waiter, given his memory skills, but when the time arrived, he stopped short, unsure of the answer.

  “What flavor would you like in the rice rolls?” the waitress asked him again, smiling, showing her braces, which contained pink and yellow loops around the brackets.

  What a way to surprise a customer, Darcy thought as he almost jumped back in fright when she smiled. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for scaring him like that since he’d worn braces too when he was young. Hence, his once ugly, protruded, and crowded teeth were now rectified by orthodontic work. It was a grueling three years, but what emerged was a swan instead of the ugly duckling.

  “Mister, the flavor? Chicken, prawn, or vegetarian?”

  Shit! he swore mentally. He’d totally forgotten to ask the witch on her preference.

  Was the witch an herbivore, feeding on plants and making peace with animals?

  Darcy snorted, doubting this theory. So she must be a carnivore. But that didn’t fit with the theory of the mineral water.

  Darcy almost had a hard attack when she rang him up and threatened him to get her the mineral water, like it was some special potion that would make her look young and beautiful or something. Yeah, like you’d ever be young by drinking mineral water. Even if you drink a million tons, you aren’t getting any prettier with a face like that. Perhaps she will only succeed in blowing that flat stomach of hers up like a puffer fish, he thought.

  “Mister, the flavor?” the girl asked again, drawing his attention back to reality, this time a slight tinge of annoyance in her voice.

  “Ah? Oh, I think I’ll go for the chicken. Thanks,” he hastily replied.

  “Thank you. Is there anything else?”

  “Oh, yes, the mineral water,” he said smiling, showing his great white teeth.

  The girl with the pink and yellow braces took the mineral water out of the chiller and the chicken rice roll out of the cabinet, then rang them through.

  “That will be $11.50, sir. Anything else?” she asked, looking nervous.

  He wondered why. Probably nervous to be sharing the same space as this handsome man, he thought to himself, smiling. Girls just can’t get enough of me, can they?

  “No, thank you,” Darcy said, handing her the cash, then headed out the door. When he turned back, he found the source of her nervousness. There was a long line waiting behind him, measuring about five meters, a various assortment of shapes and sizes, but they all had one thing in common; they all glared at him like a bunch of zombies out to suck his blood. No, wait. That would be vampires. These people were like a bunch of zombies that hadn’t had food for centuries and now were out and about, ready to feed on his flesh. Yeah, that’s more like it.

  Darcy being Darcy just continued to walk out. As he was about to reach the exit, though, a man of a generously large proportion, centering mainly around his pot belly, which he assumed must be the consequence of consuming too much beer on the couch in front of a television with his eyes on the SKY network, made a snarl at him, like a lizard on the verge of dying.

  Just chill, Lub-Tub. Darcy psychically sent his message to the man before exiting the shop. Starving would do your stomach some good.

  The sun was hot as he made his way back to the office building of E Magazine. Sweat poured from his temples like damn waterfalls. Not wanting to ruin his shirtsleeves by wiping them on his temples, just in case the witch decided she wanted to play office boy strip tease and ask him to stripe his shirt off instead of the tie, he resorted to using the handkerchief he got from his mother as a birthday present when he turned twenty-four.

  What kind of present was that? A handkerchief. And to top it off, it even had flowers embroidered on it.

  When his mother gave him the present, he was so damn excited, only to deflate like a balloon the moment he saw the handkerchief with the flowers on it. He wanted to throw it away the minute he was alone, but he didn’t have the heart to do so since he loved his mother, so now he carried the goddamn handkerchief like it was his lifeline.

  Darcy was too consumed in his thoughts and didn’t realize he’d reached the witch’s front door. Holding the rice rolls and bottled mineral water, he inspected himself to make sure he was presentable enough. Then he knocked on her door, dispelling that niggling feeling that he’d forgotten something important. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of the item.

  Oh well, it’s not like I’m going to die or something if I can’t remember it.

  So Darcy knocked softly on the door to draw his boss’ attention to his presence. But when he didn’t hear any sound, he went in without permission and—

  His jaw hung all the way to the floor and his breath stopped. He almost had a nosebleed, too. That was usually the case when he saw beautiful women. And there was no denying inside his boss’ office was a beautiful woman. One he’d never seen before. Well, from the look of her back anyway.

  The beautiful woman was busy unzipping her dress, exposing her ivory back to him. Her long black hair hung like a curtain, reaching almost to the small of her back.

  Oh God. His mouth salivated with lust. He just wanted to caress those strands with his own fingers.

  How did God know I like my women with long hair?

  Darcy didn’t know how to react in this situation. Just staring at her ivory back almost had him going into cardiac arrest. What would happen if she turned to face him? Wouldn’t he just die right there and fly to heaven?

  Obviously, she was oblivious to him standing there, gawking at her like some angel descended from the sky. Maybe he should offer her some kind of assistance since she was struggling so hard with that gown.

  “Can I help you?”

  Smooth one, Darcy. Now she thinks you’re a damn Casanova.

  But it did the trick.

  She turned around. And he saw her green eyes and her straight nose and—

  Oh shit! It’s that witch.

  Just then, her gown slipped out of her hands and her breasts were revealed, followed by—

  Oh, triple shit, shit! Little Jonathan just woke up.

  Chapter 5

  “Miss Madigan, your breasts are showing.” The words floundered out of Darcy’s mouth without thought. He couldn’t believe the woman standing half naked in front of him was his boss, the one and only evil tyrant boss of his. She… she…

  “Darcy, what are you doing? Get out of my office!” Whitney screamed when she saw Darcy looking at her half-unstated dress. And the damn fool didn’t even blink once.

  Poor Darcy didn’t know what to do when his boss screamed at him like that. He was half mesmerized and half scared at the witch’s behavior. But he couldn’t help it. She was just too hot for words. There was no description for this type of serene beauty.

  “I… I… I…” Stupid stuttering fool. Just answer her. He mentally kicked himself. “Miss…Miss Madigan. I’m sorry.”

  And without further ado, seeing his boss in such a distressed state, he plunged into the commotion and took that zipper in hand, unzipping her dress with all his strength, until it fell off her person entirely so now she was only standing in her knickers.

  Whitney was so capsized by this whole scenario she couldn’t even speak. And it was only when Darcy started talking again that she woke from her delirium.

  “What the fudge are you doing?” Whitney screamed, half covering her nakedness with one hand. “Get out. I can manag
e by myself.”

  “I…” Darcy was stuck in a standstill, his hands still on her bare arms. He didn’t know what to do. Should he continue to help her take that dress off? Well, apart from her stepping out of that lilac fabric, there was really nothing else to do. But he really wanted to touch that smooth skin again. That was very addictive. He could hear her siren calling out to him. To be touched. To be caressed. “But you’re half naked,” Darcy said, breathing down her neck.

  And Whitney could feel his hot breath on her skin, a searing tingling sensation that made her breathing became erratic and her skin flush hot, which she disliked.

  She scrunched up her face in irritation. “I know that. I don’t need you to tell me so. Go. Or I’ll fire you,” she threatened.

  And just when Darcy was about to release her and step out of their embrace, he stupidly tripped over her dress and fell, dragging Whitney along too.

  And they both went tumbling to the floor, Darcy landing on top.

  Freaking hell. Her breasts are soft as cotton balls, Darcy thought when his face happened to land smack in between them.

  He’s flattening my breasts and I can’t breathe, was Whitney’s thought as she struggled to intake air.

  And it was precisely at that moment when Macy and Mary had to walk in.

  “Whitney, we need you to sign—” Mary paused, her eyes opening wide seeing Darcy and their tyrant boss in a compromising position. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was like a fish out of water, gasping for air. In fact, she was so shell-shocked she didn’t know whether to stay put or run to spread the juicy gossip to her colleagues.

  Macy, on the other hand, just smirked at the sight before her, knowing she’d gotten some good cards up her sleeve for teasing her little friend later.

  “Get out, both of you. Now.” Whitney breathed fired at her two assistants as they continued to stare at Darcy and herself like fascinating zoo animals about to mate.

  Mary was scared shitless at her boss’ demand and she scrambled out of her office as fast as her legs could take her. Macy just smiled and nodded, then casually walked out the door.

  These assistants of hers. God! How embarrassing. What are they going to write about me? She knew sooner or later, she’d be faced with this bushfire of news.

  Oh, she knew all right. All the gossip about how she kept men’s ties to punish them because she had a fetish for BDSM. But it wasn’t that. She just liked men’s ties in general. It was just one of her hobbies. Tie collection. But now this. Would they assume she started seducing boys too? Especially this young one lying on top of her.

  Wait? On top of her?

  Fudge. Darcy was still on top of her, staring at her naked breasts.

  She smacked him on the head. Darcy howled in pain and tumbled from his position.

  Whitney hurriedly sat up, crouched into a seated position, and scooted backward until she could go no more. Her back was blocked by the wall. She glared poisonously at Darcy. Knowing that she was half naked, she searched for anything to cover herself. Her hand landed on some papers.

  That’ll do. Taking a sheet, she positioned it before her nude front.

  “Get your ass out the door now, Darcy. Before I fire you.” Her voice trembled with anger and something else, like… desire. Oh fudge. What is wrong with me?

  Darcy stood nimbly. He nodded, shivered in fright, and rushed to exit the door like a good obedient boy. Then realizing he hadn’t given over her lunch, he rushed back through the door and—

  Holy cow! His boss was wearing a G-string. And her butt cheeks were showing. Holy guacamole! Her butt cheeks were the perfect size for his hands to squeeze.

  How had he never realized his boss was the perfect species? Hidden underneath all those ugly black garments was really a goddess in disguise.

  Whitney noticed the slight breeze as she was getting changed into her black gown. She flipped her eyes to the door and saw Darcy, his eyes the size of a saucepan, burning bright with hunger.

  “What the hell are you doing here again? Turn around. Don’t look at me,” she shrieked.

  “Yes. Yes. I’m not looking at you, Miss Madigan. I won’t look at you. I promise,” Darcy quickly said, facing toward the door. His palms were sweating and he felt hot. Was it just the temperature in this room? Had the A/C broken down? Or was it just him?

  Darcy loosened his tie and bit the side of his cheek, a habit he usually did when he was nervous, and waited patiently for his boss to finish dressing. But then the curiosity to look was so strong he almost turned around. Only his conscience stopped.

  I’m a man. A man who’s given his boss the word that I will not look.

  Bloody hell. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t a gentleman. He wasn’t a man that kept his word. Of course he turned around and looked. And since his boss was busy putting that black thingamajig dress on, he marveled at her bare bottom without distraction.

  Oh my goddess! Those butt cheeks had to be the best-looking by far. They were so fine, like ivory china, so silky smooth like a—

  What the heck is that? Darcy’s eyes zoomed to a small piece of discoloration right in the middle of Whitney’s bottom. It looked like… if he guessed right, a mole in the shape of Australia.

  Just then, Whitney slipped on her black dress and his once unobstructed view of that fascinating map on that ivory globe was covered by black silk. Darcy winced but hastily faced the door again.

  Whitney glared at Darcy to make sure he wasn’t being a pervert. Once all dressed, she couldn’t resist picking up an eraser and throwing the damn thing at him, just to release a little steam.

  Crap! My aim is way off.

  Her lovely eraser bounced against the opposite wall and disappeared behind the filing cabinet, a task that would require a good contortionist to retrieve it.

  Whitney snorted through her nose and marched to Darcy, her high heels clip-clopping on the wooden floor.

  Whitney tried her very hardest not to smack her subordinate’s head again when she stood behind him. Instead, she decided to approach him with her own subtle move.

  “Darcy!” she called softly

  “Yes, Whitney,” Darcy responded immediately. He knew what was coming next.

  “You may turn around now.” That soft voice continued again.

  “Are you all dressed?” Darcy asked. He knew he’d die in the next ten seconds, but who knew? If he pretended to be a gentleman now, maybe his boss wouldn’t fire him. He knew he’d stepped over the line this time.

  “Yes, Darcy, I’m all dressed and covered up.”

  Darcy shyly rotated his body around until his eyes were facing Whitney. Hoping she would at least hold a pleasant expression, he tossed in an irresistible smile that his past girlfriends couldn’t even resist.

  Except the face that greeted him was anything but pleasant.

  Whitney had on a sour mask, so sour he could taste the damn awful flavor on his tongue. But the worst part wasn’t the expression; it was when she leaned forward so suddenly and her nose was literally inches from his own. Darcy was so taken by the situation that he backed up into the wall. And Whitney followed.

  She stood on tiptoe and intruded in his personal space. She spoke in a threatening tone. “You didn’t see anything, Darcy. Say you didn’t see anything.”

  Poor Darcy was like he was under a witch’s trance. He repeated everything his boss said to him. “I didn’t see anything. No, I did not.”

  “You didn’t see my back, nor anything on my body.”

  “No, I didn’t see your back. Just the mole in the shape of Austral—” Darcy realized his mistake and quickly clamped his mouth shut.

  “What did you say?” Whitney caught on, fire already burning in her eyes.

  Darcy refused to speak. He continued to clamp his mouth shut and shook his head vigorously.

  “I said, what did you say? Repeat it!”

  Darcy finally unclamped his mouth and spoke nervously. “I said I didn’t see anything.” Darcy nodded, tryin
g to convince his boss of his honesty.

  Whitney breathed heavily to pacify her anger. “If anyone asks you what happened, just tell them we both fell over accidently and your face just happened to…” She couldn’t speak any further. Her face was flushed red, this time with embarrassment, at the thought of saying “between my breasts.” “You get the idea. Yes?”

  “Yes. Yes.” Darcy nodded, hypnotized by those green eyes. “I promise, as a gentleman, I will not utter a single word to another human being.”

  Whitney assessed Darcy again, checking the validity of his promise. Satisfied, she uttered the word, “Good,” then backed herself off him. “Now… let’s get to the more serious issue.” She turned up the volume to her voice. “Did I tell you to come back inside my office?”

  Oh hell! Darcy had thought the interrogation was over. But their previous exchange was just a vow for him not to break his silence. Now, it was the real deal. With a voice as high as a mouse squeaking, he said, “No, Whitney.”

  “I can’t hear you, Darcy.”

  “No, Whitney.” He stood straight and tall, as if he were in the army, saluting his captain, the witch.

  “Then why did you come in? Again!” Whitney’s soft-spoken sentence ended with a loud screech at the end.

  Darcy was more scared than ever before when that screech reached his ears. He knew no amount of pleading would allow him to redeem himself. But what the hell? He’d just try one more time. “I’m… I’m here this time to give you your lunch.”

  “Which is…?” Whitney flipped her gaze to his hands.

  “Which is…” Darcy followed her movement. And stared at his empty hands. What the hell! Where is her lunch?

  Apparently, in his moment of sheer panic, he’d thrown her lunch on the floor, plunging straight to the rescue. And looking at the floor now, he saw the plastic water bottle and the packet of rice rolls near the corner of her desk.