Office Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  We walk up to the bar, and I almost suggest taking a walk around the grounds.

  Except for the fact that the CEO of Already Sold, Jake Willis, stands in front of the bar with a brandy in his hand. I’ve met him a few times.

  He’s a middle-aged jackass, and worse when he’s drinking.

  He’s tall and broad with silver hair and a face full of wrinkles like my father. Something about the resemblance makes me cringe.

  Sabrina needs her liquid courage, though, so instead of walking away, I order a scotch and a sugary-sounding tropical cocktail for her.

  “Here you are.” I hand the drink to Sabrina.

  Jake looks over at me, and I hear his breath stick with the inevitable, unwelcome outburst.

  “Magnus Heron! Good to see you again, son! You’re looking well, as you should be. Your name was all over Ad Wonk!” he gushes.

  I smile, not exactly friendly, wondering if we should beat it and take that walk after all.

  Then his beady little eyes fall on Sabrina. He winks at me. “Glad to see you brought some nice accessories this time around.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? He’s my boss.” Sabrina bristles right away. She damn sure isn’t going to take his insinuations.

  “This is my Executive Assistant,” I snap. “I’m still a happy bachelor, thank you very much, and that’s the way it’ll stay.”

  Willis shrugs at me, making an exaggerated wince like I’m the one being ridiculous.

  He doesn’t dare lower himself to an apology.

  “No need to be uptight, Mag,” he says, looking down as he swirls his drink in his glass. “Just meant you’ve got a nice young piece.”

  “Watch how you talk about my employees, idiot.” It flies out like a bullet, harsher than the biting November wind back home.

  Willis stumbles back, doing a double take, his lips moving.

  “Christ. Calm down, boy. I golfed with your dad. No shame in your game; it’s how we all do things, isn’t it? The hot ones ought to be good for something more than pushing papers and typing.” He laughs. “Don’t you think?”

  Fuck no.

  I want to drag this braindead clod into the parking lot and break his nose, but that might cost me my career. I’m not sure which part of this is worse—the fact that he finds it funny or that he thinks I’m just like my father.

  Another one of the boys with money and a reputation ruled by his dick.

  “Final warning, Willis. If I ever hear you talk like that about one of my people ever again, I’ll hire the attorney to file the harassment claim myself.”

  His bushy eyebrows almost leap off his face. “Now see here, I don’t know what you’re on, kid, but it’s pretty goddamn rude of you to get all up in arms over—”

  “Over a despicable old worm who’s cheated on all four wives he’s ever had? Yeah,” I snarl, closing the space between us so I’m in range where only he can hear. “Also, you’ll be damn lucky if I don’t beat the shit out of you.”

  His mouth drops. “Listen, I—”

  “Don’t,” I growl, looking over my shoulder as I break away, heading in the other direction.

  It’s for the good of everybody in this room.

  One more second in his presence, and I will follow through on promise number two. Bruised knuckles and blood.

  I hear Sabrina’s heels tapping and the rustle of her dress behind me.

  “Mr. Heron? Wait up! Hey. Hey, Mag?” she tries, her voice laced with fear, confusion, and so much uncertainty.

  I hate it, but she can’t follow me out of this room. Not now.

  If she does, rumors will be lethal. They’ll already be bad enough coming from anyone who saw me get up in Willis’ face.

  Stopping, I throw up my hand, spin around, then grind out, “Stay. Don’t follow me.”

  She looks horrified.

  I can tell from the way the clicking ceases that I’ve stopped her in her tracks.

  Maybe I should have let her, though.

  She already didn’t want to be here, and after this shit, neither do I.

  I’ll find my own ride back to the hotel the way I prefer.

  Alone.

  11

  Omens, Omens Everywhere (Sabrina)

  Heron’s tone was a knife to the heart.

  He left me all alone. Dizzy. At a party I don’t even want to attend.

  I get it. He’s obviously upset, but I just wanted to make sure he was okay.

  I’m still trying to figure out what just happened.

  Yes, the old guy’s words sting. Not only do I know I don’t belong in this room for certain, but I’m aware everyone else views me as a prop. His little accessory.

  And Mag’s overreaction only drew attention to it. Awesome. Thanks a lot, boss.

  That said, I can’t forget the pep talk in the hall, the way he touched my face. What even?

  He’s never been...gentle before.

  Until tonight, I didn’t even think gentle and Magnus Heron shared the same universe. I totally didn’t think he’d wind up defending me from a pig oinking far worse things than he’s ever said.

  It’s so crazy, so unexpected, it’s hard to breathe.

  I scan the room, shaking my head.

  Everyone’s still watching me, leaning in, whispering under their breath. A couple of women across the room point, thinking I don’t see them.

  I want to die.

  The HeronComm entourage looks frozen. Angie’s face is blank, and Hugo’s eyes are full moons behind his glasses. But neither of them make an effort to come talk to me.

  I thought we were friends? Guess I can’t blame them for processing, though.

  That’s all I’m going to be doing for the next month.

  Finally, I spot Ruby tucked in a corner across the room, a martini in her hand, immune to the drama talk rippling around us. She stares at me, her face unreadable, assessing.

  Ugh. What now?

  I draw in a breath and cross the room.

  “Wh—what was that all about? Any idea?” I ask.

  “You tell me, Brina. What did Jake Willis say to kick things off?” Ruby asks.

  “You know him?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Every woman in this industry knows Jake. We’re never in a room alone with him.”

  I glance back to the bar.

  “Is he dangerous?” I ask quietly.

  He looks like a grandpa, but he talks like an open sewer.

  She sips her champagne. “He’s fairly harmless. For now. But he’s disgustingly handsy. He’s more reserved when other people are around. A lot of men his age like to get loud and stupid and grabby at the more casual events, especially when the liquor flows like water.” She pushes her hand away as if she can sweep the thought aside just as easy. “What did he say to you?”

  I shake my head. “He didn’t say anything to me. He told Heron he brought the right accessories and that I was a ‘nice young piece.’” I make finger quotes around those last three words, my tongue flicking out in disgust.

  Ruby glares at the bar.

  “Jackass,” she mumbles, then she looks at me, taking a thoughtful sip off her drink. “Let me give you some sage advice. Magnus doesn’t tolerate rumors about his dating life. You’d be wise to keep a buffer because people come to these events to talk.”

  “Talk?” I bite my lip. “To talk about people? Like gossip mills?”

  Ruby shrugs. “Gossip gets more interesting with every zero tacked on to your net worth, and a lot of the people here come with many Zs.”

  Rich people. Go figure.

  “What rumors, though? And what behavior? Magnus didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Her lips form a tight smile. “I can’t say much, but...there was an internal scandal years ago. It had nothing to do with Magnus. It happened while his father was CEO. Mag just cleaned up the mess.”

  “Then why would he take the blame?” I ask.

  Ruby surveys the room.

  I follow her gaze, and I’m l
ooking directly at the rest of the nervous HeronComm group gathered around the bar before she speaks again.

  “We don’t talk about this—”

  Her words remind me of Armstrong’s that first morning on the job, and Hugo and Angie’s reactions to a bad joke a little while later.

  “This scandal actually involved our former CEO, Baxter Heron,” Ruby says. “What started as a family matter for the Herons soon involved the entire company.”

  I blink.

  Of course, I’d heard of him once or twice, but every time Baxter’s name was mentioned, it was always in hushed whispers. “Baxter? Mag’s dad?”

  She nods, throwing back the rest of her drink like she needs it, pronto.

  Weird.

  None of Paige’s research turned up any major scandal. I’m beginning to hope she never takes a job as a researcher.

  “What happened?” I ask. “If you don’t mind me—”

  “I do mind, actually, and that’s all you’re going to get, and even that you didn’t hear from me,” Ruby says, a sharp look in her eye.

  Jeez Louise. Why is everyone so freaking secretive about this terrible dungeoned secret?

  Turning, I’m ready to flee for the hall, when she says, “Sabrina?”

  I look back at her.

  “Like I said. Keep a buffer. Don’t be too friendly or chatty with anyone. You’re a fabulous, talented assistant. I didn’t expect you to last longer than a week, originally, but you’ve proved me wrong every step of the way. For everyone’s sake, remember—Magnus Heron hates rumors.” Frowning, she glances down at her phone, shaking the screen. “This stupid thing froze again?”

  The digital timer on her screen has to be running at least five minutes behind.

  Broken clock.

  Another echo of the omen from Hugo.

  Swallowing a sick lump in my throat, I head out to the lobby, eager to get away from it all.

  My phone buzzes in my purse, so I pull it out. There’s a text from Mag.

  Armstrong has the night off. I’ll send my stand-in driver if you want to leave early.

  I smile and text back. Ty. That would be great.

  He sends back a phone number a second later to get a ride. While I’m waiting, I can’t resist sending one more message.

  Are you okay, M.?

  I wait, the car comes, and then I wait some more back at the hotel.

  Magnus never responds.

  * * *

  The worst part is, the conference is far from over.

  The next morning, we return to it as a group. I don’t get a chance to talk to Mr. Snarlypants in the limo. He’s nestled securely between Ruby and Hugo.

  A couple of guys from marketing sit across from him with Dave the Sales Guy. They’ve pulled up charts on tablets and they’re going over some campaign pitch.

  But before the conference starts, I find him in the same coffee line at this barista stand outside the main venue.

  “Still hanging in there? You were pretty upset last night,” I say, curling a strand of loose hair around my fingers.

  Heron takes his scorched black coffee from the barista and looks at me. His body stiffens and his face is hard, and I know I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

  “I’m fine,” he says without a flicker of lingering anger. “Make sure you get today’s notes in a Google document, so you can share them with me later.”

  Without another word, he walks off.

  Wow. What a ray of sunshine...but I guess it’s something that he’s not hurling lightning bolts?

  He stormed out, causing a scene, left me there, and now it’s like it never happened?

  He’s the same arrogant jackass I met in the park a month ago.

  I find Angie and sit with her, wanting as much space as possible between myself and Magnus Heron.

  Of course, I’m careful to record all the notes he asked for in the cloud ever so carefully. There’s no point in poking a very strange bear.

  Later, there’s a luncheon, and Magnus approaches the table we’ve occupied.

  He stands behind the empty chair next to me and stares down. Then he places his hand on the back of the chair and leans in, like he’s about to say something.

  “Yes?” I smile up at him, and we lock eyes.

  It’s a hint of the same unexpected magnetism from last night when he gave me that pep talk, when he touched me, only...it’s mingled with something darker.

  I wait, but he doesn’t even grunt.

  His face firms, and he walks away.

  What the actual fuck? He’s like this brooding beast from one of Mom’s books. I never thought those guys actually existed.

  But somehow, I don’t think their assistants are the ones who wind up stuck with their BS.

  “Are you okay?” Angie asks, sipping her soda, looking over the cup with concern.

  I look up at her and realize I’ve been staring after Magnus the whole time.

  I shake my head. “I’m fine. Why?”

  “Umm—you look like you’re ready to punch someone, and you sighed really long just now,” Angie says.

  Did I? No wonder she’s concerned.

  I didn’t even notice we’re not alone at the table anymore. A few more HeronComm co-minions have joined us.

  “Did he hear me?” I whisper. Crap. I didn’t mean to ask. “I mean, not that I care, but—”

  “No, of course, you don’t.” Angie grins.

  I nod, still trying to catch a subtle glimpse of the boss out of my peripheral vision, hating that I care so much.

  “Relax, he was already gone,” she whispers.

  “It’s getting crowded. Want to go chat on the balcony?” I ask.

  She laughs. “Sure.”

  The resort hosting the conference is simply lovely. The balcony shows off Camelback Mountain in all its shadowy reddish glory. Even though it’s warm outside, it’s still morning, just before noon, so the sun is a welcome break from the cool interior.

  “We’re here for a reason,” Angie says, giving me a knowing look. “Ready to spill it? If this is about last night—”

  “No. Yes. Maybe?” I cut in. Then I sigh again, knowing I can’t keep dancing around it. “So, I talked to Ruby, and she wouldn’t tell me much. What’s this big scandal everyone keeps talking about but never says out loud? What happened at HeronComm years ago?”

  “Oh, um...” She shakes her head and puts a hand up. “Sorry, Brina, my lips are sealed. I don’t even know that much, honestly. It was before my time here. I’ve only heard bits and pieces from Hugo over the years.”

  “But you know the gist of it, don’t you?”

  She turns away, her glossy lips going pale as she presses them together. “Brina, trust me. You don’t want to poke at this.”

  God. They all act like it’s a murder mystery.

  “Well—what did it have to do with last night? I know there was something. Like, without getting into details, what’s Heron so pissed about? Was his father some kind of crook or...Angie!”

  I call after her as she starts to go back inside, but then she pivots around and gives me this pleading, strained look. “Leave it alone. No one talks about it for good reason.”

  And just like that, I’m alone. The cool desert breeze sweeps down from the mountains, sending a fluttery chill up my spine.

  Seriously.

  What gives?

  I swear, they treat this thing like Fort Knox, and I can’t fathom why. I’m sure politicians would kill for this level of loyal secrecy. Whatever happened, it must’ve been terrible, but they’re acting like...

  ...like Magnus killed someone?

  Yikes. Surely, he’s not that insane, and I hate to even go there.

  So, I do the only thing I can. After today’s session ends, I head for my room and hit the internet sleuthing hard.

  Last night, Ruby said the scandal wasn’t Mag’s fault.

  So that rules out willful murder, assault, or some kind of huge calculated heist. It also had more to do wit
h his father, right?

  Maybe that’s why Paige’s searches haven’t yielded much. She Googled the wrong Heron.

  I, in my infinite wisdom, look high and low for every little mouse crumb on Baxter Heron III.

  Unfortunately, Mr. Google still doesn’t have much to say. Only that the elder Heron abruptly resigned and turned over the reins.

  Some reports say he has declining health and doesn’t even live in the US anymore, but the way everyone walks on eggshells about his departure...yeah.

  There has to be more here than a washed-up corporate expat.

  After about an hour, I sit back and yawn, exasperated. The guy’s a digital ghost, and I don’t have more time to waste on this.

  There’s no denying the bigger issue—the past dominates the present.

  Whatever happened, happened.

  Magnus can be a royal jackass if he wants as long as he signs my check, but I’d love to see him dial it down if this weird cloud hanging over him is the reason why he’s the mayor of Grumptown.

  Rolling my eyes, I set to work on the weekly client summary to give myself a welcome distraction. Holding off just because we’re at a conference will only make next week harder. Besides, it gives me a reason to stay in my room and avoid people.

  I send the report to Heron with no message. None of our usual banter.

  Predictably, I get nothing back.

  It’s hard to believe he’s morphed back into the roid-rage lunatic from the park. He’s almost acted like a decent human being for a couple weeks now. Why can’t I know what set him off?

  Let it go, a voice hisses in the back of my head. He’s wounded and you know it’s none of your business.

  Even so, I can’t stop my fingers from sailing over the keyboard and hitting send on a second email.

  To: Magnus Heron

  From: Sabrina Bristol

  Subject: Worried

  Mr. Heron,

  You’ve made it abundantly clear ever since I started this job that you’re a big boy who can take care of himself, but I still have to ask.

  Are you okay? Do you need to talk? I’m here if you need me.