Bosshole: A Grumpy Boss Romance

by Jagger Cole

  I drop my burning face into my hands. Truth be told, I’ve been fantasizing about him ever since. That’s what makes this even worse. It’s not just that I flashed my pussy at my hot, grouchy boss on day one. It’s not even that I’ve been lusting after him for ten freaking years.

  Ella knocks on my door, loudly. I startle up from the couch. “Shit, sorry!” I call out. “Hang on!” I rush over to the door to tell her I’m about to get dressed. I fling it open. “Sorry! Should we open red or white— FUCK!”

  I almost fall on my ass again in shock. Instead, I just jump about a foot off the ground. And my towel drops.

  “Fuck!” I scream again and yank it up. My entire freaking body trembles and burns. My eyes wince as they slide up to meet Barrett King’s smirking ones.

  “You seem to have trouble keeping yourself covered,” he growls quietly. He’s filling my fucking doorway, and I tremble.

  “I…I don’t…” I frown. “Not normally, no,” I mutter.

  “So just with me.”

  I blush even harder. My lips purse tightly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?”

  My eyes narrow. “No, you cannot.”

  Barrett glares at me. But his lips curl into a smile. “I didn’t recognize you.”

  “No shit.”

  He frowns. “It’s been ten years, Delphine.”

  “I know,” I frown. “Well, I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “I’ve noticed,” he growls. I tremble when his eyes blaze hotly for a second. “I didn’t realize Helen had already vetted you,” he grunts. “I mean regarding your brother.”

  “I don’t see my family, Barrett. I haven’t spoken to them in a long time, least of all my brother.”

  He grits his teeth. “I was….” He clears his throat. It’s like he’s trying to find the words. Or he has them, he’s just trying to swallow his pride and say them. “I was hasty, earlier.”

  “About which part?”

  “All of it.” He frowns. “Most of it, at least. I…spoke out of turn.”

  “About?” I grin. The power balance here, now, versus in his office earlier is flipped. And it’s making me smirk.

  “You’re going to get what you want, Delphine,” he growls. “Don’t gloat.”

  I grin. “So, I’m not fired?”

  “You’re not fired.” He eyes narrow. I try and fight it. I remind myself what a prick he was earlier. But I can’t help but tremble under the heat in his gaze.

  “That’s an impressive resume. You really graduated high school and college early?”

  “I told you, I’m smart.”

  His lips curl into a hint of smile. “Well, we’ll see. Tomorrow, Delph…” he frowns. “Ms. Laurent. I forgot you had your mom’s name.”

  “Barrett, about—”

  “I’ll see you at work, Ms. Laurent,” he grunts, sounding all business all of a sudden.

  “Barrett, I’m so sorry about…”

  “It’s fine. People trip.”

  “No, I mean…” I clear my throat. “I mean what happened with my brother…”

  “It’s fine,” he hisses.

  “No, Barrett, it’s not. What happened was—”

  “It’s fine!” He snaps suddenly. Anger blooms across his face. His jaw clenches, and I tremble.

  “Sorry,” I mumble. I just…”

  “Just leave it, Delphine,” he growls.

  I nod. “Thank you. I mean for…you know. Not firing me.”

  “Not today,” he grunts. I look up to see him smirking. “But tomorrow’s a whole new day, Delphine.”

  His eyes slide over me once more. I tremble, feeling hot and tingly all over. Without another word, he turns and storms down the hall and into the freight elevator. The doors close, and I let out the breath of air I didn’t even realize I was holding.

  Yeah, tomorrow is a whole new day…

  4

  Barrett

  The door to my penthouse slams shut behind me. I drop my shit at my feet and stomp across the place, making a beeline for the bar cart. The scotch pours quickly and heavily. I inhale the smokey scent of the God-knows-how expensive bottle. Then I drink it down and pour a second.

  I take my time on the second one. I move to the windows overlooking the glittering streets of New York below. I shake my head in amazement, as I do frequently. That will happen when your life goes from the bottom to the very top.

  Ten years ago, I had none of this. Hell, I barely had four clean t-shirts to my name. But me and my dad made do. We’d made do for a long time together, after my mom bounced when I was eleven. My dad never even dreamed of the wealth I have now. But he worked his goddamn ass off, and he taught me the importance of doing that.

  That’s how I met my now arch-rival. Back then, Roland Simmons was just the son of the man whose lawns my dad took care of. Dad and I lived about as far across the tracks as you can get. But the Simmons? They lived in goddamn castle on a cloud.

  In a normal world, Roland and I would have never crossed paths. Maybe I’d have valet parked his car or poured his wine at a restaurant or some shit. But one day, my dad’s truck shit the bed at work. So, I came to pick him up on the old pan-head Indian chopper I was rebuilding. Turns out, Roland geeked out over bikes as much as I did. The guy took one look at my ride, and we basically started hanging out in his garage all the damn time.

  At first, it was like a fuckin’ movie script. The dirt-poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks makes friends with the misunderstood rich kid? Hell, I’ve seen that movie.

  For about two years, we were thick as thieves. I showed Roland what I knew about bike mechanics. He helped me ace my SATs and write some kick-ass college applications. Dad couldn’t help me at all financially with school. But I have no doubt that the letter from Roland’s dad Harold, and alum, is what got me into Harvard along with Roland.

  And yet, as close as we were, I always knew in the back of my head that things were off. I always knew I didn’t belong. Roland was my “friend”, but not one he brought around his other friends, because I was different. I didn’t have the money, the car, or the cool expensive clothes. I wasn’t from that world, and they never let me forget it.

  It was the way his dad would smile and write me a college recommendation letter. But also side-eye me any time I set foot in the house. It was the way the staff hid the good silverware when I was there. I saw it all, but I tried to push it aside.

  And it wasn’t all bad, either. Roland had a half-sister, seven years younger. I mean she was just a kid. But she was always dropping into the garage to chat with us or just lurk around. She always had a nice thing to say. She seemed to like my ride too, and she even liked my beater of a car that her dad always wrinkled his nose at.

  It’s not like I was fucking into her…I mean she was seven years younger than us. But I liked her. She was like a sister I never had. She was the good that helped balance out a lot of the bad in my life.

  And then, my world went upside down.

  Roland was driving that night, recklessly. We were back from our first semester at Harvard together. We’d been at his house; I’d joked around with his kid sister. And then we’d gone to a party. He wasn’t wasted, but when we got pulled over, he had booze on his breath. The cop searched the car and found cocaine in the glove box. It wasn’t mine. I’ve never even done it. But that night, it sure as hell was mine.

  That was the day I realized the rich can do whatever they want. I discovered that friendship can mean different things to different people.

  Roland claimed it was mine. Right there on the side of the road, right in front of me. He told the cop the drugs were mine. I denied it, obviously. But his last name is Simmons, and his dad gave three mil a year to the police union. Take a guess who they believed.

  In one afternoon, I lost it all. Kicked out of Harvard, I lost my scholarship, and then I did eighteen months in county for possession. Like I said, life will break you—slowly at times, and with a fist to the mo
uth at other times.

  I slam back a gulp of the scotch.

  Yeah, that was my trial by fire. I spent the next year and a half behind bars earning my own MBA. I read every book. I went over every corporate write up. I crammed all day, every day, for eighteen fucking months.

  I don’t have a diploma. There’s no school with my name on the graduate list. But I learned what I had to learn. And when I got out, I got to work.

  Now, I have all of this.

  I look around the forty-million-dollar penthouse. I won’t deny myself a gloating smirk. I’m rich now. Richer than the little shits who looked down one when I was a kid. But I’m not one of them. I’ll never be of that world, and I’m fine with that.

  Except now, there’s a reminder: Delphine.

  She’s Roland’s half-sister, for fuck’s sake. And Roland didn’t just fade away, either. There’s no karma in this world, even when people wish there was. There’s no justice like in the movies. If there were? Yeah, Roland would get his comeuppance.

  But he’s rich, from rich parents. Shit never gets on the shoes of people like that.

  Now, Roland runs my biggest competition, Simmons Financial. And his kid sister is my new junior analysts?

  Fuck.

  This is messed up, on a couple different levels. For one, her family. But mostly, it’s her. It’s what she very clearly does to me. It’s how I became unraveled around her, and that was before I saw her naked from the waist down.

  The problem isn’t just her family. It’s that I fucking want her. I want her like I’ve never wanted a woman before.

  The flash of her bare skin and the temptation between her thighs that I saw before—in my office and then again at her front door—comes rushing back. I groan. My cock hardens. I cup myself and squeeze my thickening erection. But then I snarl and pull my hand away.

  Christ what is wrong with me? I could literally have my pick of any woman in this city, with the snap of my fingers. But I don’t want any of them.

  I want Delphine Laurent. And I always, always get what I want.

  I groan and take another sip of scotch. I want her, but my guard is still up. It has to be. She claims she and her family are estranged. She claims she has nothing to do with Roland.

  We’ll see about that.

  I’ve had my walls up and my armor on for as long as I can remember. Not a single person has peeked over them or gotten through the cracks. So why does it feel like Delphine is about to kick down the front fucking door?

  Why does it feel like she maybe already did?

  5

  Delphine

  “And this is your office, here. There’s a lounge down the hall by the elevators, and the conference room on this floor is available any time. Just buzz me or one of the other girls to schedule it in.”

  Jenna, the head assistant, smiles at me. But it’s kind of a fake smile. It’s the kind of smile that says “honey, you’re ten years younger than me. How the fuck are you my superior?”

  “So, go fuck yourself?”

  I blink. “Huh?”

  Jenna frowns through a plastic smile. “I said is there anything else I can help you with?”

  It really is what she said before. I’m just losing it. Maybe flashing your boss, twice, will do that to a girl.

  “No, I’m all set! Thanks a lot, Jen!”

  “It’s Jenna,” she smiles. Her eyes are not smiling though.

  “Right. Thanks, Jenna. I think I’m good!”

  “Sooo good to have you here!” She smiles tightly again. Then she spins and walks off around the corner, leaving me alone. I glance around at the new, all glass-walled office. I turn around and my mouth forms the word “wow” soundlessly. The view of most of southern Manhattan is incredible.

  “Settling in okay?”

  I gasp and whirl. “Oh, Ms. Hammerschmitt!”

  Helen smiles from my glass doorway. “Just checking in. And please, just Helen is fine. Is the office okay?”

  “Uh, yeah?!” I laugh. Then I compose myself. “Yes, it’s…” I grin. “It’s gorgeous. And thank you so much, Helen.”

  “For?”

  “For hiring me?” I smile.

  She laughs. “Your resume is impeccable, Delphine. We’re happy to have you.”

  Some of you, maybe, I think to myself. Maybe I need to work on my poker face, though. Because Helen laughs.

  “Mr. King is too, Delphine. He’s just…” She pauses. She turns to smile thinly at Jenna who seems to be taking her time walking past the conversation. Jenna takes the hint though and scampers off.

  Helen turns back to me. “He’s guarded, that’s all. And firm.” She smiles. “Abrupt, at times.”

  “I didn’t realize he didn’t…” I frown. “Ms. Hammerschmitt…”

  “Helen.”

  I smile. “Helen, you are aware who my brother is, right?”

  “Is that going to a problem?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Then yes, I know, and no I don’t care.” She smiles again. “Mr. King will be fine with it, trust me.” She shrugs. “Well, I’ll let you get settled and start in on things.”

  “Oh, Helen, I had this dry-cleaned.” I pass her the skirt she lent me, freshly cleaned and in a dry-cleaning bag. “Thank you so much for that, yesterday.”

  “Oh, my pleasure, Delphine.” She smiles when she takes the skirt from my hand. “Just do what you do, and we’ll be good.”

  When she leaves, I sit to start in on things. But the one cup of coffee I had when I woke up isn’t cutting it. Especially since I was up half the night simultaneously cringing and fantasizing about the fact that Barrett saw me naked. Twice.

  I groan and stand. I head down the hall to the break room area. I spot the gleaming automatic espresso machine and grin. Perfect. I walk over and push the button to start it. The machine hums quietly—quietly enough that I can hear voices coming from right around the corner, where there’s a lounge of sorts.

  “Are you fucking serious?” A woman’s voice gasps.

  “Yep. He made Candice scrub it out with a toothbrush!” The second voice is Jenna.

  “There’s no way that’s legal!” A third woman’s voice buts in.

  “I don’t think it’s illegal,” the first voice says again.

  “To make your secretary crawl around on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush?” It’s a fourth woman’s voice.

  “Not illegal, just an asshole move,” Jenna huffs.

  My espresso finishes, and the machine makes a loud beeping sound. The voices go silent. I groan. Great. Now it seems like I was eavesdropping. Because I was. I take a breath and walk around the corner with a smile.

  “Hi!”

  Jenna and what looks like a few other secretaries all clam up. They glance at each other, and then suspiciously at me.

  “I’m Delphine,” I smile. “Nice to meet you all!”

  “You’re Mr. King’s new analyst?” A pinched-face woman says thinly.

  “I am, yeah. First day!” I make a “eek” face. They don’t crack at all. I clear my throat. “Boy, he’s a real prick, huh?”

  Instantly, they all relax. The whole table grins at me. Jenna herself beams as she pulls out the empty chair next to her.

  “Girl, welcome to King Equities.”

  I don’t actually stay and gab with Jenna and the rest of the executive assistants. I do actually need to knuckle down and get to work. So, after a round of nice-to-meet-you’s and promises to get drinks after work sometime, I head back to my desk.

  Instantly, my office phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. King would like to see you in his office.”

  The woman hangs up without waiting for an answer.

  “Um, okay, your majesty,” I grumble out loud. I’m slowly starting to understand that Mr. King runs this place like he’s an actual king. But he is, of course. The Demon King of Wall Street himself.

  I collect myself and head down the hall and then up the
stairs to his floor. His blank-faced secretary merely nods at me. She whispers something into a phone and then nods again.

  “You can go in.”

  I walk up to the big double-doors. I steel myself, take a breath, and then open them wide. I step in. The doors swing shut with a heavy click behind me. And there he is, at his desk up on that dais, like he’s sitting on a freaking throne.

  I stare at him. This is the same boy who used to smoke cigarettes, listen to rock music, and work on engines with my brother in the garage. I remember the rough hands, and the oil slicked muscles. I remember the dirty, secondhand clothes and the beat-up car.

  Now, he’s the King of New York.

  “Did you hear me?”

  I blink. I realize Barrett is staring at me. “Sorry, what?”

  He glares at me. “I asked how the numbers on the Dina-Tech acquisition proposal looked.”

  “The Dina-Tech….”

  He rolls his eyes. “The pharma company? They make that cancer drug—”

  “I know who they are,” I snap back.

  “Oh, good, welcome to the conversation.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. Barrett smiles thinly.

  “Yes?”

  “Nothing,” I mumble

  His smile widens a touch. Smugly. “How do they look?”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen them yet.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” he smiles sarcastically. “I’m so glad we hired you. Great, great work, Delphine.”

  I frown. “Sorry,” I stammer.

  “Just fix it,” he growls. “It’s time to hit the ground running, Delphine. You can go.”

  It’s the hand wave, like he’s brushing crumbs away, that makes me snap.

  “Okay, you know what?!” I hiss.

  He looks up. He almost looks amused. “Yes?”

  “I haven’t had time to look at the Dina-Tech numbers because I’ve worked here for all of eleven minutes, okay?!” I glare a him. “And are you being a prick to me because I can’t slow time, or because I happen to be related to Roland? Who, by the way, I also think is a giant bag of dicks.”