Like a Boss Box Set: Like a Boss Series Books 1-4

by Serenity Woods

  I close my eyes and search the dusty corners of my mind for sensations, images, anything to tell me that I slept with a stranger last night. I do remember his aftershave. And I think I remember his arms around me. He lay here, on the bed. But he had clothes on, didn’t he?

  I slide my hands into my hair for a moment, then swing my legs around and sit up. Whatever happened, there’s nothing I can do about it now. It’s over, and thank God he’s not here this morning.

  I’m still dressed, so I go into the bathroom and splash water on my face. I won’t use his shower, though--I’ll go home and get ready. I’ll be late for work, but I’m my own boss, so it doesn’t matter.

  I come back out into Kane’s bedroom and spot the note. Picking it up, my gaze falls on the first word. My brow creases. The odd thing is that I don’t remember telling him my name. He said it several times, in the bar and here, though, so I must have told him.

  My cheeks burn with shame. If you’d like to see me again, here’s my number. He’s just being polite. I couldn’t. I’d die if I saw him. I can’t believe I actually asked him to have sex with me. And he turned me down!

  Fury is rapidly replaced by irritation. Of course he turned me down. I was practically unconscious. I half respect his decision, because it would have been so easy to take me to bed and screw me senseless. But he didn’t. He was the perfect gentleman.

  Bastard. I hate him.

  I flop back onto the bed. I don’t hate him, of course. He was gorgeous, and he was kind, and I suppose that’s what makes everything worse.

  I lie there for a minute, then decide I’d better get going. Needing to get home, I decide not to take up his offer to use his coffee machine. But I do have a glass of water, and as I drink it I meander around his apartment. I don’t touch anything, because that seems too intrusive, but I glance at the books on the shelves. A few paperbacks--mainly fantasy novels. Quite a few history books, mainly about medieval and Renaissance Europe. And several trivia books--like many men, he appears to like top ten lists of anything and everything. I smile as I remember some of the facts he told me last night. I wonder whether the one about the bats turning left is true?

  I look around for more clues about him, but there isn’t much to see. I get the feeling he doesn’t spend a lot of time here. There’s a PlayStation plugged into the TV with a few modern games, The Witcher and Dragon Age: Inquisition, confirming his interest in medieval-style fantasy worlds. Some magazines on model-making and art. Then I see his desk. It’s filled with tiny pots of paint, magnifying glasses, tweezers, glue. And right in the middle, his current work in progress. It’s a beautiful model of a girl--a princess--astride a dragon, balanced on a plinth to make it look as if they’re mid-flight. He’s halfway through painting it, and I drop to my haunches to examine the delicate brushwork. It’s amazing. There are a few printed pages of A4 next to it. I read it--it’s a fantasy story about the character he’s painting. It’s good, well-written. Did he write it?

  I push myself up again, and walk slowly back through the room. He was nice, but I’m not ready to date someone else. The pain of breaking up with Dan is still too raw, and it wouldn’t be fair to see Kane during the rebound.

  And then there’s the awful embarrassment of propositioning him when I could barely stand upright. I feel nauseous just thinking about it.

  I collect my purse, pick up the note he left me, turn it over, and write on the reverse of it: Thanks, Kane. All the best, Elen.

  And then I turn and leave without looking back.

  Chapter Six

  Elen

  I go home, text Sebastian that I’m going to be an hour late, and take a long, hot bath. I add a few drops of lavender oil to the water, and take a few painkillers, and by the time I get out, the headache that had started to re-emerge has once again faded to a dull ache.

  I’ve suffered from migraines all my life. Stress tends to bring them on, so I guess it’s no surprise I had such a bad one yesterday.

  Standing in the middle of the room, for a moment I feel like a lost soul. It’s ridiculous--I’m not without purpose. I have a great job. I’m the director of my own company, for God’s sake. I have a thriving social life. I don’t need a man to make me complete.

  But I feel as if someone has cut off my right arm. My relationship with Dan has been on-off for a while, but I suppose even when we were apart, I always thought there was a chance of us getting back together again. Once he’d learned his lesson. My lips curve up, not with humor, but with irony at my own stupidity. I thought I could change him. I had the perfect idea of a partner in my head, and I’ve wasted several years trying to make Dan fit it. I suspect he’s done the same with me. He always wanted me to be more pliable, more outgoing, more devoted. If we’d appreciated what we had instead of always trying to change the other, maybe we would have gotten on better.

  Tears well in my eyes, but I’m not blind to the fact that my sorrow is due to losing the idea of Dan, rather than Dan himself. What was is it Kane said? I don’t know that we ever really knew each other--we were just fictional characters in each other’s heads. I know what he means, now. I’m ashamed at that, but I am honest with myself. I’m sad and unhappy because I’ve lost a partner, not because I’ve lost Dan.

  If I’m really honest with myself, part of me is relieved it’s finally over. No more going around and around on the carousel. No more arguments, no more trying to be someone I’m not just to please him. I will miss him. We had some good times, and he was funny and sexy. But we weren’t right for each other. Life is about finding someone who makes you feel like the best version of you it’s possible to be. Kane said some profound things last night.

  Maybe I should have taken his phone number.

  Then I think of how I asked him for sex. No, it’s a good job I didn’t. He appeared in my life to help me through a difficult night, and that’s that. Time to move on.

  Feeling better, I make some coffee and have a slice of toast, and then spend a while getting dressed. We’re interviewing for a new position at Hearktech today. We normally outsource our copywriting, but the company is expanding, and we’re doing more advertising and marketing than we’ve ever done before. We’ve all agreed it makes sense to hire our own copywriting team.

  I settle on a chocolate-brown suit and a cream blouse, paired with black high heels, style my hair into its usual long bob, and apply some makeup. Feeling more normal, I set off for work and arrive at the office by ten a.m., just in time for the first interview.

  My brother, Sebastian, and Harry and Caleb, the other directors of Hearktech, are already seated behind the table in the boardroom when I walk in.

  “Everything all right?” Seb frowns at me as I take my seat. I’m so rarely late.

  “Fine.” I place my folder on the table, then lean back with a sigh. “I broke up with Dan last night.”

  “Again?” He rolls his eyes. It’s the third or fourth time I’ve told him this.

  “For good this time.”

  They all look at me with concern. “Seriously?” Seb asks.

  “Yeah. We decided it was time to move on.”

  “Fuck,” Harry says.

  “Yeah.” I give him a wry smile.

  “Are you okay?” Caleb’s handsome face is creased with worry.

  I doodle on my notepad. “I drowned my sorrows last night, and ended up with a migraine and a hangover. But I’m fine.” I open the folder. “So, who’s first?”

  Recognizing that I don’t want to talk about it, they start talking about the first person up, who has an impressive list of qualifications, and Seb calls his PA outside and asks her to send him in.

  For the next hour, we talk to three different candidates, two guys and a girl. They all look great on paper. However, it’s important to the three of us that the person fits in well as we’re going to be working closely with them at times, and none of them hits the mark for all three of us. Seb likes the second guy, Harry likes the girl, and Caleb likes the first guy. I’m
not keen on any of them.

  “Who’s next?” I ask, standing to pour myself a coffee from the machine in the corner.

  “This one’s interesting,” Seb says, scanning his papers.

  “His qualifications aren’t as good as the other candidates,” Harry says.

  “No, true, but he’s got some intriguing experience. He’s worked for a couple of telecommunications firms, as well as some big gaming companies, including Katoa.”

  We all look up then, impressed. Katoa is the producer of Dark Robot, one of the biggest online computer games going.

  “He helped write the copy for their new handheld controller for the blind,” Seb says. “I figure he might have some interesting insights for our ALD.” Our Assistive Learning Device for the hard of hearing has just finished its trial, and will be hitting the shelves in a few months’ time.

  “Okay,” Caleb says, “send him in.”

  Seb presses the intercom. “Ann, can you send Kane Richardson in please?”

  I stop in the process of stirring my coffee. Kane?

  Oh my God. Surely not.

  The door opens, and I turn and stare at the man who walks into the room.

  He’s wearing a dark suit, with a white shirt and a silver-and-blue striped tie. But it’s definitely the guy from last night.

  Perhaps the most surprising thing of all, though, is that when he sees me, he doesn’t do a double take.

  In a flash, I remember my confusion when he said my name, and I was sure I hadn’t told him. Now, I know I was right. I never told him my name. That means he knew who I was when he sat next to me at the bar. He knew, and he didn’t tell me.

  My cheeks flame. Did he follow me to the bar? Did he talk to me with the intention of trying to get me to give him the job? Maybe he meant to seduce me, and even blackmail me afterward or something?

  But I asked him for sex, and he said no! Now I’m completely puzzled. Puzzled and embarrassed, and more than a little angry at being blindsided like this.

  The others are introducing themselves, and Kane shakes their hands. I return to the table and put my cup down with more force than is necessary, spilling my coffee.

  “And this is Elenora,” Seb states. “Or Elen.”

  Kane finally meets my eyes. I wait to see amusement, or smugness, or a gaze that challenges me to tell my friends the truth.

  Instead, I see only kindness.

  “Ms. Wright,” he says, and holds out his hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Kane

  I curse under my breath as I see the look on Elen’s face.

  I wasn’t sure if she would be one of the people on the interview panel. I knew there were four directors, and I thought there was a chance there might only be one or two of them carrying out the interviews.

  It was a stupid assumption. I’ve almost certainly blown it now, and that’s a real shame, because I was interested in the job and I’ve done a lot of preparation for the interview.

  She still hasn’t taken my hand, and her cheeks have turned scarlet.

  Seb looks at me, standing with my arm outstretched, then at her. “Something wrong?” He looks confused. “Do you two know each other?”

  I don’t say anything. I don’t want to embarrass her, and I don’t know if she’d rather pretend last night didn’t happen. I look into her eyes, though, and give her a small smile. She looks beautiful today, gorgeous in her suit and with her hair and makeup done, although I have to admit that a tiny part of me preferred her au naturel.

  She swallows, looks down at my hand, and finally extends her own to shake mine. “No,” she says, her voice low. “I thought I recognized him, but I don’t. Sorry.”

  “No worries.” I hide my relief, knowing I’m not out of the woods. Even if she’s going to let me interview, I doubt she’ll want me to have the job. She won’t want me around as a reminder of what happened last night.

  We all sit, and Sebastian starts talking, giving me the spiel I’m sure he gave to the rest of the candidates, a general introduction to the firm and the position, meant to relax everyone and let me gather my thoughts. I glance at Elen, whose eyes are downcast. What’s she thinking?

  Sebastian is halfway through a sentence when she suddenly gets to her feet.

  “Actually,” she says, “I wonder if I might have a moment with Kane alone?”

  The others stare at each other, then at me. I sit back and link my fingers. I’m not going to explain if she’s not.

  “Okay…” Seb rises and the other two guys follow. “We’ll be outside--just call us when you’re done.” They leave the room, Caleb shooting me a curious look before he closes the door.

  Elen circles the table, and comes to stand beside me. I go to get up, but she shakes a finger at me. “No, stay there, please.”

  “Okay,” I say, amused. She doesn’t want me looking down on her. Fair enough.

  “You knew who I was,” she accuses. “Last night.”

  “Yes.”

  The color fades from her cheeks. I think she might be about to punch me.

  “Did you follow me there?” she snaps.

  Jeez, is that what she’s thinking? “No, absolutely not.”

  “I don’t believe you. I think you followed me there in the hope of gaining some insight about the company.”

  I eye her evenly. It will do no good to get angry, and anyway, that’s not my way. She’s upset and embarrassed. I have to explain myself without making her regret what happened last night.

  “Firstly, I’ve just told you that I didn’t,” I tell her. “And secondly, what would be the point when it was likely to be you who would be interviewing me today?”

  “So why didn’t you tell me upfront that you knew who I am?”

  I hesitate. “Honestly? At first, I didn’t recognize you, not when I sat down. You looked quite… different last night from your photo on the Hearktech website. And then, when the penny dropped, I didn’t want to embarrass you. I wasn’t even sure if you’d remember me this morning.”

  Her cheeks flood with color again. Great job, idiot, I scold myself.

  “You swear?” she whispers. “You swear that you didn’t invite me back to your place with the aim of blackmailing me into giving you the job?”

  “I swear. If you want me to walk out the door now, I will. The last thing I wanted was to upset you.”

  “Did we…” She chews her bottom lip. “You know…”

  Aw, the poor girl. “No, Elen. I don’t have sex with comatose women. I took you to my place because you said you’d taken medication and you were upset and you’d had a few to drink. I didn’t know where you lived and you couldn’t remember, and I thought the safest place for you would be with me, where I could keep an eye on you.”

  She stares at me as if she can’t quite believe her ears. “Some men wouldn’t have cared that I was practically incoherent. Some men would have taken advantage of that.”

  “Not me. I consider myself a gentleman.”

  She studies me for a long moment. Then she says, “All the time?”

  Is she flirting with me? The anger has faded from her eyes.

  “Unless the occasion demands something different,” I tell her.

  Now her lips are definitely curving up. She perches on the edge of the desk and we survey each other for a while. Although today she seems less vulnerable, that inner light of beauty still radiates through her, revealing itself in her clear skin, her bright eyes, the je ne sais quoi she has that I’m sure draws all eyes in the room to her.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I exhale, blowing out the tension I’d been feeling up until that point. “You’re welcome.”

  “I had a migraine, and I’d taken some new tablets,” she explains. “I shouldn’t have been drinking, but, well, I felt the need to… unwind.”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I told you last night that a breakup is a loss, and you need to grieve.”

  �
�I feel better this morning.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “I think you were right. I was upset that the relationship had ended. That I’d failed to make it work. That I’m single again. That I’ve wasted several years. I mean, I know I haven’t, not really, because it wasn’t all bad, but I should have acknowledged ages ago that we weren’t right for each other. I could have spent that time looking for the right person, you know?”

  “Yeah. But then again, I think things happen for a reason.”

  “A fatalist, huh?”

  “I don’t believe we’re powerless to influence the future. I think opportunities are put in our path, and it’s up to us whether we take advantage of them or not.”

  “You didn’t take advantage of me, though.”

  “No. I’m already regretting that.”

  She laughs, and I smile.

  “I should have told you that I recognized you,” I say softly. “I’m sorry--it wasn’t fair.”

  “Maybe. Your noble actions offset that, anyway.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Our eyes meet. She’s beautiful. I want to ask her out. I want to pull her into my arms, push her up against the wall, and kiss her. She was soft and slender in my arms last night. I want to lie like that again, but with her conscious and willing, and naked, preferably.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she murmurs.

  “Sorry. Should I go?”

  She chews her lip. “I think we can be adult about this, can’t we?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “Can we pretend it never happened? Start over again?”

  “I’m happy to give it a try,” I say, although I won’t be able to erase the memory of holding her last night. Of her breath fanning across my chest. The smell of her hair. The curve of her waist beneath my hand.