Ego Trip: A Cocky Boss Romantic Comedy

by Tabatha Kiss

  Ego Trip

  Tabatha Kiss

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Epilogue

  Excerpt: Just a Touch

  More from the Tabiverse…

  Also by Tabatha Kiss

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2021 by Tabatha Kiss

  All Rights Reserved. eBook Edition.

  Cover Design by Cover Me Timbers

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Reader discretion advised.

  Visit TabathaKiss.com for a FREE book!

  For Mom

  (Please stop texting me photos of

  the cute new bag boy at the supermarket.

  He doesn’t want to be a cover model.)

  Chapter 1

  Paige

  What the hell?

  He looks like my boss. He sounds like my boss. And yet...

  “Have a fun weekend?” he asks. “How’s Mom?”

  Graham Botsford stands beside me outside the elevator with his arms wrapped around his ex-wife, a woman I’ve seen a grand total of one time since I became his assistant over a year ago. In fact, I’ve never seen him this way with any woman. To be this close to a woman, a man has to have a certain level of fun and Graham is not the kind of guy who has any sort of fun.

  Though I’m not too sure I’m one to talk lately.

  I slide my sunglasses off. “She’s good,” I answer. “The rest is a very long story...”

  I look them up and down. A bouquet. Happy, smiling faces. A loving, adrenaline-fueled embrace.

  “How were the nature documentaries?” I ask.

  “Very educational, actually,” he answers, his hand not-so-subtly making its way around her waist.

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  “Jen,” he says, gesturing at me, “this is my assistant, Paige.”

  “Hello!” She gives me a wave. “I’ve heard good things about you.”

  I bob my head. My head hurts too much for this much excitement. “Greetings.”

  “Paige, this is my wife, Jen.”

  No, she’s your ex-wife.

  Wasn’t she? She was when we checked-in two days ago.

  Flowers. Smiles. Adrenaline-fueled embrace.

  Oh, dear god.

  My jaw drops. “Your wh—?”

  “Also, you were right,” he says.

  “I was?”

  “There was something I hadn’t done in Vegas yet,” he says. “I’d never re-married my ex-wife, so... you were right. Though, I shouldn’t be surprised. You usually are.”

  I’d laugh if I could do anything vocal. I’d cry if I hadn’t already done enough of that this weekend.

  Graham raises a finger. “Oh, and she’s going to be palling around with us for the next while, so make sure you update our travel itineraries for three instead of two. No need to book extra rooms, she’ll be staying with me. Is your passport up-to-date?” he asks Jen.

  “Maybe,” she says. “I’ll have to...”

  Their voices fade off somewhere in the back of my head. I just stand and stare, desperately trying not to let my shock turn to anger. Not at Graham, of course. He’s great and, once the dust of this weekend settles, I’ll be happy for him.

  No, I reserve my anger for the same person it’s always reserved for.

  Little old me.

  “Right, Paige?” Graham asks.

  I blink twice. “Of course,” I answer.

  “And that’s Paige,” he says. “She takes care of me. You two will get along great. I have a good feeling.”

  Jen smiles. “Looking forward to it.”

  The elevator opens and the two of them step on, still clinging to each other like teenagers at the prom.

  “You going up?” Graham asks me.

  “Actually...” I take a step back. “I think I might hit the bar first...”

  “All right.” His lips graze her ear. “Just make sure you’re all sobered up and well-rested in the morning. Big week ahead.”

  Yes. Big week at the Botsford Plaza Vegas with the annual Botsford Corp shareholders’ convention. That means five days of countless meetings and long presentations, but throw a rock and you’ll hit an eligible, rich bachelor. It’s usually a fun time.

  Just not in the mood for it this week.

  I need a drink.

  I make my way across the golden lobby. It’s quite crowded with a wedding party by the ballroom on the north side and the aforementioned eligible, rich bachelors lounging on the center couches with their respective posses. I keep my head down. Just one second of eye contact will interrupt my quest toward the bar, and I’m still off the clock until 8 AM tomorrow.

  I squeeze inside, taking great advantage of my petite form to slink around a dozen broad shoulders before finding my way to the last empty stool at the bar. Unfortunately, Doc the bartender has his hands full, constantly shuffling back and forth with a tray of fresh drinks to deliver to the over-stuffed tables.

  I sit and wait. Maybe if I sit here long enough, I’ll curl into the black hole taking over my gut and disappear completely. That’ll be nice.

  After a few minutes, the pair of broad shoulders sitting beside me reaches over the bar and easily snatches a bottle of beer out of the ice on the other side. He pops the cap off with the bottle opener on his own keys and sets the drink down on the empty bar napkin in front of me.

  Before I can scold him for cheating and breaking the rules, I catch sight of Oliver Black’s familiar (and cocky) smirk.

  The building manager can do whatever he wants.

  “There,” he says, perching on the barstool again. “Pretty girls don’t go drink-less around these parts. Not on my watch.”

  I smile. “Thanks, Oli.”

  He takes a quick sip from his own bottle. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I touch the bottle in front of me and a cool shock tingles my fingertips. “Why?”

  “You just seem a little... off. That’s all.”

  “Had a long weekend,” I answer, keeping it vague.

  “Graham keeping you busy?”

  “Strangely, no. He gave me the weekend off.”

  He nods. “So, are these the downtu
rn eyes of a girl who had too much fun or not enough?”

  I look at him, instantly pulled in by his bright, blue gaze. I didn’t come to the bar to make chit-chat, but he procured me a drink. Might as well make some conversation.

  “Not enough,” I answer. “My boyfriend dumped me.”

  His head tilts with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

  “We weren’t together for very long. A few months. Or weeks, maybe…” I sigh. It’s telling that I’m not sure. No one to blame but myself for that one. “I’m starting to see a pattern here.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, you know. You meet somebody, you open yourself up, and then…”

  I mime a few explosion motions with my hands.

  Oliver nods. “So, you get dumped, come back here, and immediately see a big ole’ wedding party in the lobby, huh?”

  “Wound, meet salt.”

  “That’s rough.”

  “No, that’s coarse. Add in Graham eloping and dragging his new ex-wife-bride along with us for the next while for a constant show of lawfully wedded bliss, and you’ve got rough.”

  “Graham eloped?” His jaw drops. “Again?”

  I nod. “Apparently.”

  “When?”

  “Just now. I saw them in the lobby.”

  Oliver’s face screws up as he twists on his stool and pats the shoulder on his other side. “Hey, Hayden. Did Graham elope again?”

  Hayden, Graham’s younger brother and the second heir to the Botsford crown, turns to look at us.

  “Yeah,” he answers nonchalantly.

  “When?”

  “Like, just now.”

  “Oh.” Oliver turns back to me and nods once. “Your story checks out.”

  I laugh. “I’m happy for him. Really, I am. It’s just the cherry on top of the shit sundae that is my love life lately. Or… always, actually.”

  “Eh, you’re young and hot. You’ll bounce right back.”

  “Well, I do have that.” I pause. “For now.”

  Oliver chuckles as he turns more in my direction. “How’s everything else going? Are you still liking the job?”

  “Oh, the job is great!” I say. “I love my job. I get to travel the world, stay in fancy Plazas, meet amazing new people.”

  “Pick up Graham’s dry cleaning,” he teases.

  “I actually don’t mind the grunt work involved. There’s something really cool about being right-hand lady to a billionaire.”

  “Definitely cool.”

  “We’re going to Rome next month! Very excited about that.”

  He squints with envy. “Damn, that’s a cool job. Even the title sound cool. Company Liaison.”

  “Assistant to the Company Liaison ain’t too bad, either.” I sigh. “It’d just be nice to come home from my various business travels and have someone waiting for me, you know? But there aren’t a lot of guys out there willing to have a long-distance relationship for almost half the year, so…”

  “Well, if you want my advice...”

  I shrug. “Go ahead.”

  “You’re living the dream,” he says. “I mean, what are you, twenty-four? Twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-three,” I say.

  “Even better. Paige, you have an amazing job. You’re young and hot, as previously mentioned.”

  “Say it as much as you like.”

  “You’re young and hot.”

  I smile, genuine and wide. “Thank you.”

  “You’ve got all the time in the world to find a man willing to sit around and wait for you to come home. Hell, you’re going to Rome next month. You don’t want to worry about some loser back home in Vegas when you should be out there mounting a Centurion.”

  I laugh. “I’m not sure they make those anymore.”

  “Carpe diem.” He smiles. “Isn’t that what people say out there?”

  Seize the day. It’s tempting. And true. I shouldn’t worry about a happily ever after when I could live a happily ever now.

  In fact, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Starting —

  “Now...” Oliver’s deep blue eyes study my face. “Do you feel any better?”

  “I do,” I say. “Much better. Thank you.”

  “Good. Because I take the satisfaction of my guests very seriously.”

  “Do you?”

  “Is there anything I can do to make your stay more satisfying?”

  I bite my lip. “I think I’m okay.”

  “Well...” He clears his throat as he grabs a napkin off the stack nearby and scribbles something on it. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

  He discreetly slides the napkin toward me.

  You. Me. Tonight, it says.

  No one has to know.

  My breath hitches. Obviously, I knew what Oliver was implying when he asked to make my stay more satisfying. It’s not the first time I’ve been hit on in a Botsford Plaza bar, but I’ve never had it framed quite like this before.

  Like a dirty little secret.

  No one has to know.

  Around here, everyone knows everyone’s business. That’s just the way things go down at the Plaza in Vegas, especially with Ira Botsford the Gossip King working security. One little wink in the bar gets noticed and the next morning, everyone is talking about who’s boning whom.

  I glance around the crowded space. It doesn’t look like anybody noticed Oliver’s sneaky napkin trick. He looks forward, not drawing any attention to it as he sips his beer.

  I pick up the pen while I study Oliver in the dim lights beside me, cataloging all the features of his attractive face. Big blue eyes. A chiseled, clean-shaven jawline. Dark hair just long enough to tickle his eyebrows. Thick shoulders and strong hands. It definitely wouldn’t be the worst notch in my bedpost, that’s for sure.

  But this is Oliver Black. The building manager. The boss around here, though not technically my boss. We work in different departments. I’m corporate. He’s not. There’s no official company ethics rule against it other than my own. Don’t date co-workers. It’s always a disaster.

  I glance into those icy blue eyes again and pause.

  Don’t date co-workers, sure, but a one-night stand isn’t a date, right? It’s just emotionless sex — which sounds absolutely amazing right about now. The perfect way to get over… uh… what’s-his-face?

  Man, I really deserved to get dumped.

  Oliver peeks at me again. Sweet. Sexy. Patient.

  I could definitely do worse. And, as previously mentioned, no one has to know, right?

  I shouldn’t.

  I really shouldn’t.

  I jot down 2508 on the napkin and leave it there. “Thanks for the drink, Oli,” I say as I stand up.

  One quick glance at the napkin and Oliver smirks. “You’re welcome, Ms. Landon,” he says, discreet yet victorious.

  “Have a good night,” I add casually.

  He nods. “I’m sure I will.”

  I squeeze out of the bar the way I came and ride the golden elevator to my room on the 25th floor.

  Carpe diem.

  Isn’t that what people say?

  Chapter 2

  Paige

  four years later . . .

  “A little to the left,” I say, making a quick nudging motion with my hands.

  Hayden and Jonah shift on their ladders, each one tugging the banner in opposite directions above the ballroom doorway in the hotel lobby.

  “She said left, dummy,” Jonah says.

  “This is left,” Hayden replies. “Wait, left left or stage left?”

  “Your left!” I reiterate.

  They both slide the banner in the correct direction.

  “There!” I say, giving a thumbs up. “Perfect. Lock it down.”

  They fasten it to the wall before climbing down from the ladders. I take a few steps back to admire the handiwork and give the entire ballroom entryway one last check for perfection.

  BOTSFORD FOR U.S. SENATE.

  Jonah scratches his
head through his thick navy-blue beanie. “Can I go see my wife now?” he asks.

  Hayden rolls his eyes. “You just spent two weeks straight with her.”

  “Yeah, well, I like her. And don’t even try to say our honeymoon period is more annoying than yours was with Penny.”

  “What do you mean was?” Hayden straightens up, cocky as ever. “It’s still going.”

  Jonah rolls his eyes. “Exactly.”

  “Sure, you can go see Marla,” I say over them. As cute as their brotherly squabbles usually are, I don’t have time for them right now. “After you guys finish moving the boxes of napkins into the ballroom like I told you to. That’s right, I noticed you didn’t do it yet, and no, you can’t try to sneak off behind me, Hayden,” I say, whipping my head back as he makes an escape attempt.

  Hayden stops with a scoff. “When did you become so bossy?”

  “She’s not bossy,” I hear over my right shoulder. “She just knows what she wants.”

  I spin around to find the lady herself admiring the entryway. I react the same way I always do every single time I’ve ever laid eyes on Fiona Botsford. I lock my knees. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. I bask in the eternal glow of grace and elegance while feeling horribly ugly and self-conscious about myself.