Bad for the Boss_A BWAM Office Romance

by Talia Hibbert

  Theo’s first instinct was to push. In fact, his first instinct was to command. But she wasn’t just an employee, and he didn’t want to control her the way he did everything else. It couldn’t be that way between them. So, with great effort, he left it alone and moved on—for now.

  “I don’t think you should stay here tonight,” he said. “You’ll come home with me.”

  That got her attention. She frowned, looking more present than she had for the past hour. “Oh I will, will I?”

  Frustrated, Theo sighed. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?” She asked slowly, dangerously.

  “Jenny.” He frowned. “Don’t. I’m just trying to help.”

  She pursed her lips. “I can’t just leave. Aria will be home soon.”

  Ah, yes. The flatmate. He shrugged. “I have plenty of room. She can come too.”

  “It’s fine,” she murmured.

  “For God’s sake, Jennifer, you can’t stay here. You’re coming home with me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, am I? Is that how it works now? I do whatever the hell you want?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the strands off his face with irritation. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “What happens if I ignore you? Am I allowed to ignore you?”

  “Jen—“

  “Is that in the contract?” She gave him a sudden smile, sharp and bright. Acidic. It ate at his insides. “What is in your contract, Theo? The time limit on our relationship? What? Tell me.” She straightened, walked towards him, fury written all over her face.

  But then she faltered. Her hand fluttered up to her head, and her brow creased into a frown.

  “Jenny?” He reached for her, suddenly concerned. “Are you okay?”

  “I…” She trailed off. Then her eyes rolled back into her head, and she fainted.

  ◆◆◆

  Of all the embarrassing things that had happened in Jennifer Johnson’s life, waking up in her boss’s arms after passing out mid-rant topped the list.

  Theo manoeuvred awkwardly down her flat’s tiny hallway, trying to fit his broad shoulders and her wide body through the narrow space. As her eyes fluttered open, she found him staring down at her intently, something soft and warm in his eyes. He smiled as he saw her wake, but worry was written all over his face. The laugh lines bracketing his full mouth had become deep grooves, his lips pressed tight.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured.

  She blushed. “Stop. You can put me down now.”

  “I don’t think so. You’re going to bed. What have you eaten today?”

  “Breakfast?”

  “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “I’m joking. My room’s the next door, by the way.” He grunted his thanks and pushed the door open with his shoulder. She reached out from the safety of his arms and switched on the light.

  God, did her room have to be such a mess? Trying not to blush, she continued. “I had lunch with that client. Lilliana. Not much though; just some soup.”

  “Lilliana? Not Lilliana Taylor-Thomas.”

  “Yeah. You know her?”

  “Unfortunately. Why the hell did you have soup?” His face took on an expression of disgust that made her giggle.

  “Have you seen that woman? My thighs are thicker than her waist.”

  “I like your thighs.” He laid her gently down on top of her unmade bed, then pulled off her shoes for her. She bit her lip.

  “Theo,” she said. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I didn’t mean—“

  “I know,” he said. “Don’t worry. And I’m sorry I got all bossy on you.” He reached up to stroke her cheek. “You’re a big girl. You can take care of yourself.”

  “I certainly can.”

  “But maybe consider letting me help. Okay? Just because you can cope on your own, doesn't mean you should.”

  She had no answer to that. He smiled ruefully and stood. “I’m going to make you some food, okay?”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I do. Three meals a day are mandatory in my book. Stay there. Rest.”

  She rolled her eyes as he left the room. For a few minutes, she listened as he bumbled around the tiny kitchen. The walls were paper-thin; she heard him clattering pots and pans, sputtering out the odd curse. But somehow, as she smiled at his antics, her eyes slid shut…

  “Jenny. Princess. You need to wake up.”

  She blinked her eyes open, frowned as Theo’s handsome face came into view. “Wha—?”

  “You fell asleep.” He popped a tray on her lap. She looked down and found a plate of pasta in a tomato sauce, topped with chicken. “Eat,” he said, handing her a knife and fork. “Then you can go back to sleep. Yeah?”

  “Okay,” she mumbled blearily.

  The pasta was good. Damned good. After a few bites, she forgot to mind her manners and devoured the meal like a woman possessed. Theo watched her with barely-hidden amusement, but she was too exhausted and hungry to care.

  When she was done, he picked up the tray. “You want dessert?”

  “We have dessert?” Then she frowned. “I didn’t even know we had chicken. Where’d you get that?”

  He had the grace to look embarrassed. “There wasn’t much in the fridge so I…”

  “You what?”

  “I had Holmes run some stuff over.”

  “Oh my God.” She put her hands over her face. “You didn’t.”

  “It’s not a problem. You know, if you’d come home with me—“

  She peeked over her hands to spear him with a look. “No. I know it seems kind of rough here, but… You caught us at a bad time.”

  He snorted. “Really? So if I come over again, there won’t be vomit in the corridors?”

  “We don’t know for sure that it was vomit,” she mumbled.

  “Seriously?”

  “Some of the kebab shops around here produce extremely questionable meals.” A yawn took her by surprise, so strong that her jaw ached. “Crap. I’m really tired.”

  Theo’s gaze softened. “I know. You should go back to sleep.”

  She should argue, but…

  “I’ll wait up until your flatmate comes home.”

  “Okay. I’ll text her. If she finds a random man in here she’ll probably claw your eyes out.”

  He chuckled. “Good to know.” Then, his hands gentle, he pulled the duvet up around her. “Rest.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. Then he left the room once more.

  Ten minutes later, she was sleeping.

  ◆◆◆

  Aria rushed into the flat, barely noticing the traces of dried blood on the front door.

  “Jen!” She called, throwing off her coat in the hall. “Where are you?”

  “Hi,” came a deep voice, one she’d never heard before. Then a man stepped into the hall, holding a black bin bag. “Don’t scream,” he said.

  “I wasn’t going to,” Aria lied. “You must be Theo.” He was… Not what she’d expected. And, though Jen had warned her that he’d be here—in the most worrying and least informative text ever written—she was still surprised to actually see him, his fancy suit jarring in their tiny, bare flat.

  “Ah… Yeah. I wasn’t sure if Jen texted you.”

  “She texted me. Not with a lot of detail, but enough to get me over here.”

  “Right.” He smirked. He was older than she and Jen, but not by a lot. Or at least, he didn’t look it. There was only a touch of grey at the temples of his midnight hair, and his golden skin was barely lined—but he had a way of holding himself that somehow screamed maturity. Or money. Or both.

  And he was handsome, too. Way cuter than Simon. Not that Aria cared about such shallow things.

  “So,” she said. “What’s in the bag?”

  “Dead cat,” he told her.

  “What?”

  “Oh, she didn’t—?” He sighed. “Sorry. Someon
e nailed a cat to your door.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah. Are you gonna faint?”

  She arched a brow at him. “Do I look like the fainting type?”

  He eyed her carefully from head to toe. She’d been at work today, and so her tattoos were covered by her sensible coat, and most of the metal that belonged in her face was absent. But apparently he got the point, because after a second, he shook his head.

  “Nah. You don’t. I was just asking because Jenny fainted.”

  Jenny? Interesting.

  “Is she okay now?”

  “Yeah.” He looked uncomfortable. “She’s sleeping.”

  “Sleeping? Is she high?”

  “What? No!”

  “Good,” she said. “Weed doesn’t agree with her.” He gave her a scandalised look. Bless his heart. “Don’t worry,” she added. “I’ll look after her.”

  “Right,” he said dubiously. “I could stay, if you want.”

  “Nah. We’re good.”

  He smiled ruefully. “That’s what Jenny said. I don’t want to overstep, but… If there’s anything you need—“

  Aria cut him off with a raised brow. “Really? You want to do this?”

  “Do what?” He frowned.

  “You’re already trying to screw an employee. You want to start giving us money on the side, too?”

  And now he looked horrified. “It’s not like that,” he gritted out. A muscle in his jaw jumped. She remained unimpressed.

  “Well it sounds like that. Did you offer Jen money?”

  “No,” he admitted.

  “Smart boy. I wouldn’t recommend that you try it.”

  He looked slightly worried. “Oh…” Then he cleared his throat. “Well. Okay. I’ll just… Take care of this thing.” He hefted the bag.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” He strode past her towards the door, and she pushed it open for him and stepped aside.

  “See you,” he said.

  “See you, Theo.”

  Aria shut the door behind him and went to Jenny’s room.

  The lights were off, but the blinds were open, and there was just enough of the city light leaking into the room for Aria to see that it was a mess. She smiled fondly. She picked up a few of the clothes lying around and folded them neatly, piling them at the end of the bed. Then she picked up Jen’s silk scarf from the floor and began the awkward business of sliding it beneath her friend’s hair.

  As she lifted Jen’s head with one hand and worked the fabric across her pillow with another, Jennifer’s eye’s opened. “Aria?” She murmured. “Wha—?”

  “Go to sleep, babe.”

  “‘Kay.”

  Aria lowered her friend’s head back onto the pillow and tied the silk scarf into a sloppy knot. Then she switched on Jen’s bedside lamp before turning off the main light.

  “Goodnight, love” she whispered. Then she shut the door and walked away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She didn’t like to swear, but as she rushed towards the lift, Jennifer allowed herself a single mental cry of Shit!

  Desperate, she caught the eye of the middle-aged man inside as the doors slid closed.

  Hold the door. Hold the door. Hold the—

  He did not hold the door. Off went the lift.

  “For God’s sake!” She wasn't even going to bother checking her watch: it would only depress her. With a sigh of resignation, Jennifer turned to the stairs.

  Of course she would be late on the morning that she’d planned to speak to Rich about the Lilliana issue. Somehow, Jennifer didn’t feel entirely comfortable using the dead cat thing as an excuse. What would she say? “Sorry I’m late, someone nailed a cat corpse to my door for reasons unknown and I had a weird physical breakdown in response?”

  Well, she could. She could also dance naked along the banks of the Trent. There were lots of things she could do; that didn’t bloody well mean she should.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” she muttered as she jogged up the countless steps.

  Logic told her that it only took a few minutes to reach her floor, but Jesus Christ, it felt like a century. Jennifer paused before leaving the stairwell, taking a minute to pat her hair nervously and catch her breath. She needed to appear cool, calm, collected, not at all hysterical or belligerent or incompetent or anything that might cause Rich to misinterpret what she was going to say about Lilliana. She and Priyanka had discussed this yesterday. The key was control.

  With this in mind, Jennifer took a final, deep breath before pushing open the door and stepping into the lion’s den.

  “Jennifer Johnson!” A voice cried. Jennifer leapt three feet in the air like a cartoon character.

  “What?” She shrieked. Then, as every pair of eyes in the office swung her way—God, they were like a group of nosy owls— she cleared her throat and tried again. “Ah, yes?” A placid smile stretching her lips, she turned to find none other than Richard Fortescue frowning down at her.

  “Are you okay?” He asked.

  “Yes, yes!” She trilled. “I’m fine! Absolutely fine!”

  “Right,” he said. “Great. Because you’re just the woman I wanted to see!”

  “Oh…” Bugger. “Right. I was actually hoping to talk to you, too—“

  “I know,” Rich interjected. And… was that a smile playing about his lips? Good lord. What did that mean? Had he ever smiled at her before? Or looked anything other than supremely bored? She wasn’t sure.

  “Come with me,” he said, “and we’ll speak in my office.” And of course—of course—he led the way at a brisk trot, because he never did anything slowly. Jennifer followed him promptly, tried her best to hide the fact that she was close to death, and decided to ask Aria for a gym membership this Christmas.

  “So,” Rich began when they were safely ensconced in his office. “I spoke to Priyanka.”

  “Oh; you did?”

  “Yes. She mentioned that you had some things to say about your most recent client, Miss Taylor-Thomas.”

  “Ah, yes.” Jennifer crossed her legs in what she hoped was a demure manner. “Now, please don’t misunderstand me, Rich; I’m very grateful to be working with Miss Taylor-Thomas.”

  “Mmm.” His tone was achingly neutral; his face implacable. Nervously, Jennifer continued.

  “I certainly wouldn’t like to complain about a client of her calibre—“

  “Certainly not.”

  “And… And I know that she is a friend of yours.”

  “Quite right. Very old family friend, in fact.”

  Jennifer bit the insides of her cheeks. “Right. Well, I just had some… Concerns, which I expressed to Priyanka, as she’s my manager, and we thought it best if I told you outright that Miss Taylor-Thomas has some, um, reservations about my plan so far, and she—“

  “She wants to meet with me directly,” Rich finished, “because you’re ballsing it all up and she can’t possibly have you ruin her brand with anything so gauche as SEO and advertising.”

  Jennifer’s jaw dropped. After a moment of utter brainless panic, she picked it up again. “Um… Did she already contact you?”

  Rich rolled his eyes. “Lilliana Taylor-Thomas has sent me at least three emails a week for the past year. That’s after I stopped replying to her. I imagine she has indeed contacted me, but as I now direct her emails to my junk folder, I wouldn’t know.”

  Yet again, Jennifer’s jaw dropped. This time, she did not have the wherewithal to retrieve it.

  Rich chuckled. “I know that Lilliana’s a handful, Jennifer. She really is an old family friend; I know her quite well.” He sent her a significant look. “I had hoped that she would be professional, for your sake, and perhaps she is being so! But even on her best behaviour, I’m afraid Lilliana can be quite…”

  Jennifer resisted the urge to finish his sentence. Nothing she came up with to fill that gap would possibly be appropriate for a conversation with her boss.


  He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Never mind that. I really do think that this is a great avenue for Brown Cow to take, and I also think that you’re perfectly suited for the position. But if you’d rather I took on responsibility for Lilliana’s account, I would understand.”

  At that, Jennifer finally found her voice. “Oh, no! No, no, no! I really, really want to do this. I do. I just didn’t want you to think…”

  “Don’t worry,” Rich said. “I understand exactly how things are with Lilliana.”

  “Right,” Jennifer said. She tried out a tentative smile—a real one. To her surprise, Rich returned it. Hm. He really wasn’t as awful as she’d thought. “So, would you like me to arrange a meeting between the two of you, or should I, er… Try to avoid that?”

  Rich sighed. “No; she’ll be a nightmare if she doesn’t get what she wants. I’ll call her.” He looked slightly nauseous as he made this statement.

  “Oh. You’re sure?”

  “Quite. Hopefully that will make things a bit easier for you.”

  “Thank you! Honestly, thank you so much.”

  “No problem,” Rich smiled. The phone on his desk rang, and he reached for it before hesitating, casting a look at Jennifer.

  “I’ll just go back to my desk,” she said, standing hurriedly.

  “Alright then,” he smiled again, but this time the expression was distant. A polite hurry up and get out of my hair, rather than a true pleasantry.

  She nodded her way out like a Victorian servant. Just before she shut the door, she heard him answering the phone.

  “Sweetheart. You have the patience of a toddler.”

  Then he chuckled, the sound low and warm. Something about it reminded her of Theo. But she wouldn’t think about Theo. No. She would go back to her desk, or maybe to the bathroom to check her reflection and pull herself together. She felt like roadkill when she woke up this morning, so she’d slapped on some red lipstick; it was probably all over her teeth. She’d sort herself out, settle in at her desk, get caught up on emails and notifications. And she absolutely would not think about Theo, sitting in his office upstairs.

  Certainly not.

  ◆◆◆

  It had been almost eighteen hours since Theo last saw Jenny. He’d sent her a text message that morning.