Troublesome Roommate

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Troublesome Roommate Page 3

by Chloe Grey


  “So, should I reschedule it to three thirty or four?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer, so I looked at her. Sam was staring straight ahead at Mr. Asshole two, who was packing up to leave. It was already ten past five, and I wasn’t even done with the schedule he had requested. Sam was nice enough to help me.

  Our boss walked out, looking delicious in his suit though his hair was a bit roughed up. I thought the look suited him better. It added a layer of sexiness—not that he needed any more of it.

  “Bye, sir,” Sam said, not even bothering to hide the gush in her voice.

  “Bye,” he replied, but his eyes weren't on her. They were on me. “Bye, Audrey. See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Mr. A.” Then I remembered Sam. “Ah, I mean Mr. B.”

  I almost burst out laughing when he grunted and walked away.

  I took a sneaky glance at Sam to see how annoyed she was that he didn’t even bother to look at her. He was such a jerk, lacking basic decencies. How could Sam say he was nice?

  But my coworker wasn’t upset at all. She caught my eyes, and her smile widened. “He’s soooo sexy, right? Am I right, or am I right? He’s single too. Did you know that?”

  “He’s alright,” I said.

  “Alright?” She scoffed. “Girl, your standards must be on another planet, another universe even.”

  I laughed and got back to work.

  “YOU’RE LYING.”

  I waved a chip at Zane. “Ask him yourself.”

  “Are you sure it was him? Maybe it’s a look alike.”

  “I’m sure, Zane,” I said. “He even had my book on his desk and smelled of pineapples.”

  “Ah, yes, I forgot to tell you. I figured out what he uses.” My best friend whipped out his phone and showed me a picture. It was a bottle of perfume.

  “Creed Aventus.” Zane slammed his hand on the table, and for a moment, I thought my food would jump off my plate. Several people looked at us. “That’s what he uses.”

  I stared at the picture. “It looks expensive.”

  “That’s because it is.” He scratched his chin. “But I don't get it. If he’s rich, why would he live with us?”

  I chewed on my chips. The mayonnaise at this place tasted amazing. “I’m still trying to figure it out. When I asked him, he flat out ignored me.”

  Zane settled back on his chair. “I can’t believe it. What are the odds? We get a new roommate, my old best friend, and he turns out to be your boss.”

  “I hope he doesn't make life hard on me,” I said, relaying my worries to my friend. “If he is, I don’t know if I should quit. My co-workers seem to be awesome, the job looks tough but rewarding, and the pay is really good. I’m just worried about Mr. Asshole two.”

  “Maybe stop calling him that would be a great start,” Zane said, looking at my plate. I knew what he wanted, so I nodded. He took a handful of chips. “Besides, didn’t you say he liked your books and bought them? Maybe he isn’t that bad. If he is, he and I will have a talk.”

  “Please don’t. It will only make things worse. I can handle myself.”

  “I hope you can.” He gobbled the chips down and looked at my plate again. I didn’t know how such a thin frame could hold so much food. I shook my head, and he made puppy eyes.

  “Fine,” I laughed. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

  We continued eating in silence. When I was done, I pushed my plate back and whipped out my phone.

  Zane finished eating too. “Do you think he fancies you?”

  I looked up. “Who? Mr. Asshole two?”

  “Yeah. You said he called you into his office for no reason at all. Not to mention him gazing at you often.”

  “He doesn’t gaze at me,” I snorted. “More like a death stare.” I didn’t mention my insides going crazy under that death stare. “And for calling me into his office for stupid reasons, maybe he’s weird like that.”

  “I don’t know, cookie.” Zane looked me up and down. “You’re not bad looking yourself. I mean, if I was straight, I would totally be all over you.”

  “You’re making me blush.”

  “Just like how you blushed in front of him when you first saw him?”

  “I did not!”

  “Girl, it’s painfully obvious. You’re affected by him, just like everybody else. And the best part is he might have feelings for you. If you see the juiciest of all steaks on your plate, would you eat it or leave it out cold?”

  “Just because he’s hot—”

  “As fuck,” my best friend cut me off again. I hated when people did that.

  “Just because he’s attractive,” I repeated, giving him the evil eye, “doesn't make me automatically fall for him. And besides, we wouldn’t fit.”

  “And why is that?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m done dating assholes and cheaters.”

  “Most of your exes aren't even that bad,” Zane told me. I started to say something, but he quickly continued. “I mean compared to mine.”

  I didn’t answer, so he opened his mouth again. “Come on, cookie. Let’s just say he likes you. Give him a try. I swear I won’t intervene. You can have him all to yourself. Just make sure when you guys do it, you give me the juicy details.”

  “Zane,” I said, my words slow and firm. “I’m not going to date him. I don’t even want somebody right now.”

  “Alright, alright.” He drank the remains of his coffee. “Don’t get me wrong. I love you, and I want you to be happy. I just have a feeling Mr. Asshole two might be the one who could give you just that. Not because he’s hot and has a great jawline and a rocking body and a—”

  “Zane.”

  He smiled. “Not because of those things. I feel like behind the cold front he is putting up right now, he might just be somebody. I know him. He likes to hide things. Once, he sprained his right leg and didn’t tell anyone. It wasn’t serious but, I mean, not even to his mom. He went to the doctor himself and pretended nothing ever happened. I’m telling you, cookie, behind Mr. Asshole two might just be Mr. Perfect. Someone you would actually like.”

  Chapter 7

  My second day of work wasn’t much better than the first.

  Telephone calls after telephone calls, sending invoices after invoices, printing out documents after documents. Sam had her hands full too, only being able to help me out for the first hour before being forced back to her desk. It was okay, though. I was getting my mojo at this whole secretary thing.

  Mr. Asshole two was busy too. It was already two in the afternoon and he had been typing on his laptop and talking on his phone all day.

  At three o’clock, the workload started to slow down. Sam returned and asked if I needed any help. I told her I was fine and thanked her.

  After ending a call with a potential client, I looked over at my boss. I didn’t see him last night, but I did hear the front door opening and closing sometime around midnight when I was trying to fall asleep. Did he always return home that late? Why would I care anyway?

  Currently, he was mulling over something, biting on the tip of his pen and staring at his laptop screen. The sight was damn near erotic, and even though there was a considerable distance between us, I could feel my body heating up.

  “So, you’re the new girl?”

  I almost jumped at the voice. A man stood to my right. His right elbow was propped up on my desk with his chin resting on his fist.

  “Yes, sir,” I said to the stranger, wondering who the hell he was. A co-worker? Sam didn’t introduce him yesterday. “I am.”

  He smiled a boyish grin, and extended his other hand.

  “Marcus,” he told me, his voice smooth and cultured. He had a slight British accent.

  As I stood up and shook his hand, I studied the stranger. The man looked to be the same age as me—mid-twenties. But unlike every other man I have seen in the building, he wasn’t wearing a suit or anything professional. He was just in a plain white T-shirt that stretched over his incredible c
hest. I couldn’t see what he was wearing below his waist, but I would bet it was anything but casual.

  The stranger let go of my hand and used the same hand to sleek back his long golden hair even though it was already sleeked back, all the while looking at me. He had the most amazing green eyes and a jawline that would make models jealous. The man looked like he belonged in a beach body magazine, not here.

  Then I remembered my boss. What type of magazine would he fit in?

  Marcus’s smile widened. “You still haven’t told me your name, darling.”

  “Oh, uh, it’s Audrey,” I replied, mesmerized by his emerald eyes. He laughed, and I snapped out of it. He knew I was checking him out. “Are you here to meet Mr. Ass—, ah, Mr. Bond?” I should know the answer to that, being his secretary and all, but my brain had stopped working.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Don’t bother checking your computer, darling. I don’t have an appointment.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry then. Mr. Bond has a meeting soon. If you want to see him, you’ll have to schedule an appointment.”

  “Of course,” he replied, his dazzling smile still plastered on his handsome features. “My bad. But before I leave, how about your number?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your number, darling. After work, I can pick you up and we can fuck.”

  “Uh...”

  “How about it?” He leaned forward so that he could take a better look under my blouse. He wasn’t even trying to be discreet. “I tell you what. You leave work with me right now, and I’ll give you the best orgasm of your life. I have a one hundred percent satisfaction guarantee.”

  “Sir,” I backed off until my back found solid wall. “I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  He had the audacity to look offended. “What is it? You don’t like men? Don’t worry. I can bring a stunning woman along. You’ll love her. She can lap your pretty pussy up while we can...” He stopped, studying my expression. “Or maybe you don't like women either?”

  “Sir,” I said again, disgusted by his behavior. “I’m calling security if you don’t leave right now.” In truth, I didn’t know what button to press for security, but he didn’t need to know that. I could scream if need be.

  “Whatever,” he backed off, shaking his head and frowning at me as if I was the one who was wrong. “You’re probably a poor fuck, anyway.”

  “Marcus?” My boss’s voice spoke behind him. “What are you doing here?”

  Marcus turned around. My savior was standing at the entrance to his door, looking at both of us.

  “Kevin, there’s something awfully wrong with your girl. She—”

  “I think you’d better come into my office,” my boss said, cutting him off.

  With a final scornful look at me, Marcus turned and followed him, starting another conversation as if nothing had happened. “Why didn’t you read your messages?” Marcus started, sounding annoyed. “Megan, man, she was amazing in bed. You should have listened to me and—”

  The door behind them slammed shut, cutting the conversation off. But I could still see both men through the glass walls.

  Mr. Asshole two gestured Marcus to sit. He sat. Then Marcus said something that made my boss frown. He glanced at me, so I knew the jerk had mentioned my name.

  Seconds later, the glass became opaque, and they were gone.

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, I received the unpleasantness of seeing Marcus again.

  He came out of the office and walked away without a glance in my direction.

  If looks could kill, he would be dead because I was shooting daggers at his back. My boss paled in comparison to this jerk. Maybe Marcus should be crowned Mr. Asshole two instead.

  The glass wall cleared, and I could see Mr. Asshole two standing next to his desk, looking troubled. His fingers were on his head, massaging his temples, and he was frowning.

  He turned and caught me staring—again. I looked away and pretended to be busy with something, stacking random papers that were on my desk.

  The buzzer sounded. I looked up. He gestured for me to come to his office.

  Exhaling a breath, I walked inside and he told me to sit. I sat down, wondering what all this was about.

  “Marcus,” he started, sitting on his own chair. “What did he say to you?”

  “Some really disgusting stuff,” I replied, feeling bile rise up in my throat as I recalled his words. I silently pleaded not to throw up.

  “Sorry for that,” he told me. “It’s my fault. This never should have happened. I can assure you something like this will never happen again.”

  I nodded even though I didn’t know how it could be his fault. It was my second day of work, and I already had an unpleasant experience.

  “Again, I apologize.” He checked the time on a clock hanging on the wall. “It’s almost five. You can leave early today. Go home and get some rest.”

  “I’m not done drafting the credit agreement for Mrs. Danford,” I said. “I can—”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll have Sam do it or I’ll do it myself. Just go home and rest, okay? You earned it.”

  Chapter 8

  I didn’t return home.

  Instead, I went to the nearest bar to get my much-needed liquid stress reliever. After working my butt off and then having to deal with that horny jerk, I deserved this.

  As the burning liquor went down my throat, another thought came to me. Why do all the super-hot men have to be assholes?

  But that wasn’t true. I was sure there were nice hot guys out there. I’ve just had no luck with men. But why was that? Was the universe against me or something? Or was it my fault? Was I just an incompatible lover?

  So many questions and no answer.

  My thoughts returned to my new roommate. He wasn’t as bad as I thought, apologizing when he didn’t need to and he even sent me home early.

  But wouldn’t anyone half decent have done the same?

  He also bought my books, which meant the world to me.

  But he also made fun of my name. That wasn’t cool at all.

  I felt a vibration in my pocket and took out my phone, expecting a reply from Zane. Nope. It was some stupid text message from my cell provider. Where was Zane? I had called him to see if he wanted to have some shots, but he hadn’t answered yet. I ended up leaving him a voicemail telling him where I was and to come ASAP.

  As I asked for a refill of my shot glass, I knew I shouldn’t. Alcohol was expensive, and I shouldn’t use what little I had left to spend on this crap. But it did do its job and calmed my anger down a bit alongside with drowning out my sorrows. I always thought of it as an investment. Some cash in exchange for forgetting about my problems. Not the best trade, but I would take what I could get.

  Night rolled out. I had felt a little woozy an hour before, so I dialed down on the alcohol, sipping on dark beer instead. Zane still hadn’t replied, which sucked because I really wanted some companionship. Not the guys who came up to me and offered to buy me a round, not them. Real companionship with someone I knew. And that was Zane, because who else did I know here?

  It was depressing. My life was depressing. It always had been.

  Fuck it, I would just get wasted. Tomorrow was Sunday, so that meant no work. I could afford a hangover.

  I ordered a shot of Kamikaze, giggling as I did so because the name was somehow hilarious to me.

  When it arrived, I checked my phone again for the millionth time. Damn it, Zane. Where the hell are you?

  I took the shot glass in my hand, did a cheers to absolutely no one and brought the alcohol to my lips.

  Before I could chug liquid fire down my throat, a hand rested on my shoulder, and a voice spoke close behind me. A sexy, masculine voice, one I was too damn familiar with by now, accompanied by the delicious scent of pineapples.

  “You shouldn’t be drinking that.”

  MR. ASSHOLE TWO GRABBED the shot glass and a little spilled on my front.

  He sat on the bar stool beside mine and pl
aced my glass on his right, far away from me. “I dismissed you early, so you can go home and rest, not to get drunk in a bar.”

  I faced him and frowned, my speech a little slurred. “How did you know I was here?”

  “I saw you while I was walking to my car,” he said, dismissing the bartender with a wave of his hand. “Why are you here?”

  I shrugged. “Tomorrow is Sunday, so I wanted to have some fun.”

  “By drinking?” He shook his head at me like a disappointed dad. A hot disappointed dad. “There are so many more ways to have a good time. Alcohol isn’t one of them.”

  My frown deepened. “Give me my shot glass back.”

  “No.”

  “Give it to me. I’m paying for it.”

  He signaled the bartender for the bill and gave the man his card. “I paid for it along with all the other shit you drank. It’s not yours now.” He accepted his card back and placed a hand on my wrist. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

  I didn’t budge. “I’m staying,” I replied meekly, hypersensitive of his hand gripping me. “I worked hard, didn’t I? I deserve to have some fun.”

  “I told you drinking is—” He sighed. “Besides drinking, what else do you like to do?”

  I said the first word that came to mind. “Board games.”

  I used to have board game night every week with my—mostly Zane’s friends—back at my home. Since it was now only Zane and me here, we didn’t have those nights anymore, though we do play the occasional two players card games back at the apartment.

  “I know a good board game cafe. Let’s go there.”

  “What? Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “But there are only two of us.”

  “We’ll make do.” He gave a gentle tug on my wrist. “Come on.”

  I sniffed and took a moment to think about it. I didn’t want to go with him, but he paid for my bill, which was a lifesaver. I had probably ordered a little too much. He also did me a favor by letting me off work early.

  And I wanted companionship, didn’t I? With someone I knew. I barely knew him, but he did technically fit the criteria.

 

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