Ego Trip: A Cocky Boss Romantic Comedy

by Tabatha Kiss

  Ian and Graham shake hands by the podium. As Graham leaves the floor, Ian inserts a flash drive into the laptop, quickly loading up a Powerpoint presentation called, ‘Integrity in the Workplace.’

  Well, this ought to be interesting.

  “Hello!” Ian says, his voice echoing throughout the pin-drop silence. “My name is Ian. I am a Botsford. A proud Botsford. Like my cousins on the Las Vegas branch of our tree, I was raised within the golden walls of our family business. From a young age, my father taught me the values that make up this company. From hard work to honesty and — most of all — integrity. These same values make good men. And women,” he tacks on with a smirk. “There is nothing I want more than to see this company succeed because of the leadership of good people.” He pauses, his eyes growing heavy as he scans the crowd. “Which is why I find it so disturbing to bear witness to dishonesty and immorality happening right under our noses.”

  Paige shifts in her seat.

  Ian taps to the next slide. “How can we make this company better?” he reads aloud before eying the crowd again. “There are myriad ways we can improve the day-to-day of our guests and the employees working on the ground floor, but I think that genuine change must come from the top. You’re absolutely right, Graham,” he says, staring right at him. “The Botsford Plaza Hotel has a stellar reputation, and I hate to see that reputation sullied by a lack of integrity amongst its senior staff members.”

  He taps again, filling the screen with a photo of Paige... and me. We’re sitting in an airport terminal. O’Hare, by the looks of it.

  I look at Paige. Her eyes stay locked on the screen with confusion, her skin pale as snow.

  “When our corporate office sends its personnel around the world, we expect those individuals to be the best at what they do,” he says.

  He triggers another photo, prompting a few muted whispers throughout the ballroom. The two of us again, this time having lunch together in Manhattan. An innocent business lunch, as I recall, but this split second of smiles and laughter could reasonably appear... not so innocent.

  “We expect them to imbue the very qualities that this brilliant company supposedly stands for, but, unfortunately, we’re not always so lucky.”

  He taps the computer again and several gasps rise behind us.

  Oh, no.

  Oh, shit...

  A new photo. This one of Paige and me together in that dark corner of Ryan’s House in Boston with our lips locked and hands on each other.

  I look at her beside me again as she brings a stunned hand to her mouth.

  “The Botsford Corporation Code of Conduct has very clear rules against entanglements with subordinate staff,” he says, his tone full of judgment. “This vile behavior endangers the trust of our workers, the fluidity of our operations, and the reputation we all hold dear. It creates conflicts of interest that inhibit true growth and block the advancement of employees who may be more qualified for opportunities... like promotions.”

  The bastard taps one more time and my stomach twists.

  The two of us alone together in her apartment. Naked. Tangled up beneath the sheets.

  A shot that could only have been taken from outside her bedroom window this weekend.

  Graham rushes toward the computer as voices of protest rise from the front rows.

  I tightly close my fists. Angry. Betrayed. Violated.

  This motherfucker.

  Ian steps to the side, happy to let Graham disable the presentation now that the damage is done.

  “How can we make this company better? It’s simple, really,” Ian says with his hands in his pockets. “They say a few bad apples spoil the bunch. Perhaps, then, it’s time for us to take a long, hard look at our current leadership and demand that they be held accountable for the depravity they’ve allowed on their watch. And then maybe, just maybe, we’ll all be able to trust in that golden reputation again.” He smiles, smug and happy. A king of chaos. “Thank you.”

  The murmurs continue behind us. I ignore them, turning toward Paige. She sits still with her mouth open and sagged, as shocked and disgusted as I am.

  “Paige?” I ask.

  She looks at me as tears stream down her face, then quickly rises from her chair and darts past me into the aisle.

  “Paige!”

  She ignores me along with everyone else, keen on reaching the exit as fast as possible.

  I turn forward, my ire pointing at Ian Botsford. He hasn’t moved from his spot up front, looking positively fucking delighted in himself.

  I stand up from my chair.

  I walk toward him with a steady, eager stride.

  I punch him in the face as hard as I can.

  Chapter 45

  Paige

  Fuck.

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  I stare at the floor of Graham’s office, repeating the same four-letter words over and over in my head.

  Fuck. Shit.

  What just happened?

  Ian exposed us, that’s what happened. But why? Did I reject him one too many times? Did Oliver say something to him that set him off? How did he get those pictures? My skin crawls as I think about them. Someone was... there, lingering around during private moments.

  I think I’m going to be sick.

  The door opens. I stand up from the sofa as Graham steps inside, looking worn out. Upset. Disappointed.

  “Graham, I—”

  I pause as I spot Ira lingering in the hallway outside of the office.

  Oh, that can’t be good.

  “Graham, please let me explain,” I say.

  Graham closes the door. “Sit down,” he says with a wave of his hand.

  Yup.

  Disappointed.

  I lower onto the sofa again while Graham remains standing. He silently paces for a moment before leaning against the side of his desk with his hands in his pockets.

  “After you left Chicago, Ian hired a private investigator to tail you,” he says. “The photos in his... presentation only scratch the surface of what he has.”

  “God...” I whisper, full of shame.

  “He told the board he suspected misconduct after interacting with the two of you at his hotel, and he felt that it was his duty to report it,” he says, his teeth clenching.

  “He told the board of directors?” I ask.

  Graham nods. “They’re in the boardroom now. He’s... still talking. They asked me to briefly step out.”

  “Oh, god...” My stomach churns. “Graham, I am so sorry. I... I didn’t mean for this to happen. I should have told you about us before, I just didn’t... I didn’t know how.”

  He shrugs a shoulder. “Tell me now,” he says, stoic and calm. Just like Kingston.

  I pause as memories both painful and wonderful flash in my eyes. “Oli and I... spent the night together once, about four years ago,” I begin. “It was just one night. We weren’t working together at the time... It was just one night,” I say again. “But then, we got paired together on this trip and I should have told you there was a history between us, but...”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t want to burden you with it,” I say. “You kept going on and on about how important it was to maintain normalcy and how the fate of the company was in my hands and I... I didn’t want to let you down or give you more to worry about. But then, he and I were on the road together and all these feeling started happening and I’m just... so sorry, Graham. I didn’t want any of this.”

  “All the while, Oliver was calling me up and urging me to create a brand-new position in the company tailor-made especially for you,” he says, still perfectly calm.

  “I didn’t ask him to do that!”

  “You have to know what this looks like, Paige.”

  “I didn’t! Please, Graham, you have to believe me.”

  “I do,” he says, taking a breath. “But they don’t.”

  I deflate. “So, then... what does that mean?” I ask, dreading the answer.<
br />
  “It means...”

  Graham looks down as that calm stoicism fades away.

  My heart slows to a stop. “It means they want you to fire me,” I finish.

  He hesitates. “Yeah,” he says. “They do.”

  I nod. My shoulders sink.

  I blame myself.

  “What about Oli?” I ask, looking up.

  “I don’t know,” Graham says, shaking his head. “But it doesn’t look good.”

  “So, what? What’s going to happen? He can’t lose this job, Graham. It means everything to him.”

  “I want to keep him as Liaison more than anybody, Paige,” he says. “I’ve looked up to Oli for years. He’s a brother to me. When my dad made me Liaison instead of him, I promised him it’d be me and him at the top someday. But after this...” He exhales the frustration from his lungs. “With Ian’s calls for new leadership and with Drake backing him up...”

  “New leadership,” I repeat, disgusted by the implication. “Meaning him.”

  Graham nods. “It looks that way, yes. At least, that’s what the current topic of discussion was when they asked me to step out.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t at first. I stutter and bite down as anger takes hold. “Can’t you do something?” I ask. “Like... I don’t know. Block him in some way? He’s not standing up for workplace integrity. It’s a damn power grab!”

  “I know it is,” he says. “Ian’s an opportunist, always has been, just like his dad. But if I do what I want to do, then it’ll only prove him right. I could ignore all of this, defy the board, and keep you and Oliver on, but it wouldn’t make it go away. Ian would make sure it of it. He would burn this company to the ground if it meant he’d come out on top.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” I ask, my voice breaking.

  Graham goes quiet. He looks at the floor for a moment, then he lifts his head and sighs. “Well, under normal circumstances, in this sort of situation, I would ask you,” he says slowly. “What do you think I should do, Paige?”

  I think he should tell Ian and Drake and that entire branch of the Botsford tree to go fuck themselves.

  But he’s right. Ian would burn this company to the ground for his own personal gain. He would drag his own family’s name through the mud, go on every news channel he could to expose our indecency, and he’s just charismatic enough to convince anybody he’s right. He’s already convincing the board. He would taint the entire Botsford brand, not just the hotels. He’d tank Fiona’s senate campaign if he really wanted to. And he would.

  Logically, there’s only one thing Graham can do to keep the board on his side.

  I stand up with my breath held tight. “I think... that you should fire me,” I say.

  Graham nods.

  I gesture at the closed door. “I guess that’s why Ira’s waiting out there, huh?” I ask with a dry chuckle.

  He nods again.

  “Right,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “Makes sense...”

  Graham pushes off the desk and steps toward me. He opens his arms to me and I hug him back, wrapping my arms around him in a friendly embrace.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “Yeah,” I say, stepping back. “Me, too.”

  He squeezes my shoulders, one last show of support. “I hate this,” he says. “You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “If you need anything…”

  I nod. “I’ll be all right,” I say. I lie. I hope.

  “Are you sure?”

  No.

  “Yes,” I answer. I flash a smile. I stand taller. “Don’t you worry about me.”

  Graham sighs before letting me go and opening the office door.

  Ira’s still there, waiting for me with my purse and clipboard — personal items I left behind the front desk downstairs. They removed the pages and notes I left on the clipboard, though. They’re company property.

  I glance at Graham one last time. “Bye, Graham,” I say, my throat tightening.

  He bows his head from the doorway. “Bye, Paige,” he says.

  Ira leads me down the hall to the elevator. As we pass the windows of the boardroom, I try my best not to look, but my eyes pull toward it like a magnet. Twelve people sit around the table, talking back and forth in hushed tones.

  And there sits Ian, his bruised and battered face still dripping with smugness as he leers at me through the window.

  I look away, lest I be too tempted to offer him a second shiner.

  Ira silently calls for the elevator. The golden doors open and we step on together. Ira taps the button for the lobby and takes a step back to stand beside me, softly folding his hands in front of him as we wait.

  After a moment, he clears his throat. “Sorry about this,” he mutters as we descend. “It’s company policy to...”

  “Escort out the evil-doers.” I nod. “It’s okay. You’re just doing your job.”

  We stand quietly for a few floors downward.

  “If you like, I can make a scene,” I joke. “Cry out in the lobby. Throw a fit. Make it a little more interesting for you.”

  “I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

  “Gotcha.”

  We go quiet again. I glance at him in the golden reflection and bite my cheek.

  You know, I might not get another chance to ask.

  “Hey, Ira.”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Did you and Vincent ever... you know...” I slice a finger across my throat, “any notable dictators?”

  He doesn’t budge. Or blink. “I’m not at liberty to say,” he says.

  I smile.

  Badass.

  Fuck it. One last question for the road.

  “Did you guys ever make out?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Really?!”

  “No,” he says.

  I scoff, disappointed.

  The elevator reaches the lobby. As I step off, my chest clenches. I realize that after five years of loyal service, this will be the last time I cross this lobby as an employee of Botsford Corp. My next paycheck will the last one I cash. The last holiday party was my last holiday party.

  Man, this sucks.

  Ira holds the entrance door open for me.

  “Thanks, Ira,” I say as I walk outside. “Say bye to Roni and the kids for me.”

  Rain pours loudly over the awning of the guest drop-off zone.

  Oh. Right.

  It’s monsoon season.

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  I wave my arm by the curb, hoping to flag down a taxicab from the street.

  “Hey, Paige.”

  Ira follows me outside, casually scratching his scruffy chin as he performs a quick glance over each shoulder.

  “We see a lot, you know,” he says.

  I raise a brow. “We who?”

  “Security.” He talks over the rain. “We see a lot. We hear a lot.”

  I wait for more, but he just stands there looking ominous. “O-kay...”

  Ira tilts his head. “We talk a lot, too.” He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and withdraws a piece of paper pinched between his fingers. “And Barry loves to talk. For a price,” he adds.

  I take it from him. “Barry?” I ask, curiously reading the phone number on the slip. “Head of Security in Chicago? That Barry?”

  Ira smirks as he slides backward toward the front doors.

  “Ira,” I shout over the rain.

  “You didn’t hear that from me,” he says.

  “Thank you.”

  Ira shrugs his wide shoulders. “I’m just doing my job,” he says before disappearing back inside.

  Protecting the Botsford family.

  That’s his job.

  I smile as a taxicab stops by the curb.

  Chapter 46

  Oliver

  I flex my hand, testing the pain in my bruised knuckles. It has been a long time since I punched somebody in the face. It’s not something I p
articularly enjoy doing, nor do I actively encourage it as a problem solving method, but with Ian Botsford, I happily made an exception.

  Paige was right.

  The guy is a dick.

  I check my phone again. No returned texts or calls from her. I wish I knew what was going on up there. Graham told me to go down to the bar and wait, so that’s what I’m doing while the board of directors decide my fate. I didn’t consciously mean to sit down on the same stool as I was sitting on four years ago when I seduced Paige Landon, but I guess it’s the perfect coda to my life at the Botsford Plaza Hotel.

  It’s taking a while up there. Honestly, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

  An ice pack drops onto the bar next to my half-empty beer. I look up to find Doc the bartender standing there, his black sleeves rolled up to reveal tattooed symbols down his right forearm. Hearts and diamonds. Clubs and spades.

  Viva Las Vegas.

  He smiles. “Rough day?”

  I pick up the pack and rest it on the back of my hand. “It started out okay,” I say as the cool touch whips up my forearm. “Woke up in a pretty lady’s bed.”

  “Nice,” he says.

  “Got breakfast. Then, I came to work, and I punched a Botsford in the face in a room full of my peers.”

  “Hayden?” he says, assuming.

  “Ian.”

  He nods. “My second choice.”

  “Now, I’m sitting here waiting to find out how deep in the shit I am, but I don’t care about me. I care about her.”

  “Yes,” Doc muses. “Her.”

  “I should have listened to her,” I say. “I looked at her and her big, beautiful eyes, her wide hips, and those... pencil skirts, and I...” I blow out, vibrating my lips. “I blew it. I ruined both of our lives.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “I have no idea what’s going on up there, and it’s killing me inside.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “Buddy, I just got here,” he says.

  I chuckle. “Sorry, Doc. I didn’t mean to unload on you.”

  “All part of the job.” He grabs another beer from beneath the bar and pops the cap off. “Second one on the house.”