The Boss(hole)

by Bloom, Penelope

  That same rage rose up in her face again. It was adorable. The woman had absolutely no control when it came to hiding her emotions. She was an open book, and one I had a feeling I’d enjoy diving into regularly.

  “So you’re blackmailing me? Join you or you ruin me. Is that it?”

  “No. You lost my business as a client. If your boss chooses to keep you employed, good for you. I’ll leave it at that. But if you’re looking for work, I’ll hold the position for three days. It’s not blackmail. It’s an opportunity.”

  “It’s an opportunity that smells a hell of a lot like blackmail.”

  I shrugged. “It’s your choice, Miss Adams. You know where to find me.”

  “What about Walker?” I asked.

  “What about him? If you take the job, I’ll call him up and tell him to come back.”

  She scrunched those pretty lips up, giving me a glare that I thought might ignite the papers on my desk. “You’re a horrible person.” She pulled the door open and slammed it behind her.

  Maybe, I thought. But in real life, you don’t get to take down the villain by being a hero. Heroes can’t afford to get their hands dirty. They can’t do what it really takes. They can’t cut the corners and make the sacrifices to get the power they need.

  Maybe I was a horrible person, but I was going to use every fucking ounce of that power it had earned me to burn what Russ Coleton cared about to the ground. That was a promise.

  3

  Juliette

  I hadn’t even made it out the front door of the bosshole from hell’s branch of Coleton Enterprises when my phone rang. I braced myself. It was Maxi, the other bosshole from hell.

  “Hi,” I said, trying to force a cheery disposition I didn’t feel.

  “Let me guess,” Maxi said in her deep, no bullshit voice. “The meeting with Mr. White went horribly wrong?”

  There were about a dozen things I could’ve done to figuratively get on my knees and beg forgiveness. I could’ve made excuses, tried to explain he was a prick, or even made the most obvious point about how she’d sent me to do something I was completely unqualified for.

  But it really had been one of those days.

  I stopped in the lobby of the pristine Coleton offices, shaking my head. “Yes,” I said. “For you, it went really badly. You lost the contract because you didn’t have the balls to fire me without cause.”

  There was a long pause. Despite saying the words with confidence, I felt like I was about to explode from a rapid heartbeat on the inside.

  “I was going to settle for firing you,” Maxi said after a few moments of tense silence. “But I think now I’m going to destroy you.”

  I couldn’t help laughing at that one. “It sounds like I really touched a nerve.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying this. I’m going to reach out to all my contacts and make sure nobody hires your petulant, insubordinate, always late ass.”

  Okay, that last one was a real stretch. Not cool. I’d been late once or twice in the few months I’d worked at Maxi Designs, which I knew for a fact was far less than most of my co-workers.

  “That’s great. I already got a job lined up.” What was I saying, exactly? A few minutes ago, I’d been just as amused by Chad Thundercock up there thinking he could flash his ego and get me to jump into his payroll with a squeal of delight. Now I was leveraging my future on a position when I didn’t even know what it paid. Worse, I didn’t know how long I could survive it.

  “I’ll make sure that falls through, sweetie,” Maxi said.

  “Okay, great talking to you. I’ll come get my stuff this weekend. Bye, Maxi.”

  I hung up on her, did a little quick-stepping happy dance, then turned back toward the elevator. Now for the not-so-fun part.

  If there were YouTube Masterclasses for being insufferable, Mr. White had apparently studied them well. He was waiting behind his desk back on the 82nd floor with a smug expression. From the look on his obnoxiously gorgeous face, he knew I’d be back. He even looked like he expected me to be back as quickly as I’d come.

  “Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” I said.

  Adrian held up a finger. “Careful. You thought you had nothing to lose before. Before you weren’t desperate. But you wouldn’t be back so soon if you hadn’t just lost your job, would you?”

  “There are other jobs. I just figured I could at least find out what the salary is here. For comparison’s sake,” I added.

  “One seventy-five per year. You’ll need to accompany me on trips. You’ll receive a five-thousand-dollar stipend for each trip out of the state. Your airfare, food, and lodging will be covered. The healthcare is top of the line. We have a company fitness center and childcare facility on the top floor of this building you’ll have access to at any time you wish. There are racquetball courts and an indoor pool across the street you can use as well.”

  “I didn’t accept the job yet,” I said, even though it was hard to keep looking confident when my head was spinning. “Did you say… one seventy-five? Can you elaborate on that one?”

  “One hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars per year. With stipends, you should be well over two fifty. Maybe three hundred on a busy year. Assuming you last long enough to collect, that is.”

  I did a few quick mental calculations. The salary he was talking about was approximately… way more than enough to cover my expenses. The reality of having to think about this sort of thing was still new to me, but no less in my face. The universe didn’t care if you’d once had access to piles and piles of money. All that mattered was if your cards swiped and your checks cleared. Fail that simple test, and you could go fuck yourself, as far as anyone was concerned.

  This demon in a suit was offering me a ticket out of that reality. He was offering me my first step toward being able to show my father he’d been wrong. I could do this on my own. I wasn’t completely naïve about how the world worked.

  “You had three days to decide. Now you have one minute. Do you want the job or not?” he asked.

  I barely knew the man, but I already wasn’t surprised. I didn’t even bother asking how that made any sense. “I’d like to see a written contract before I agree to anything.”

  Mr. White had a way of not responding right away. He let the silence hang there, reminding me how damn intimidating he was. He finally reached to his side and slid a stack of papers across his desk. I picked them up, noticing they were still warm.

  I assumed it was some sort of template, but I noticed my name was filled in along with the salary and stipend he’d mentioned. “When did you have time to write this up?”

  “Are you going to sign or not?”

  I met his eyes, fought the urge to look away from their intensity, and then shook my head. I didn’t exactly have a choice. As much as I wanted to knock him down a peg and watch that self-satisfied look melt from his face, I needed this.

  I sucked up my pride and finished reading. I tried not to care that he seemed to expect me to sign without reading and wasn’t bothering to hide his impatience. I wasn’t about to sign something without reading it from this man.

  But by the time I finished all three pages, there was nothing shocking in the contract. It all seemed pretty standard, except for the massively generous salary and benefits that came with the position.

  When I looked up, he was holding a pen out for me. I grabbed it, then signed my name at the bottom and pushed the stack of papers toward him.

  “Why do I feel like I just signed a deal with the devil?”

  Adrian actually grinned at that. “Maybe because you’re more perceptive than you look.”

  4

  Juliette

  I started my first day by the reception desk with Martha. She looked just as harassed and tired as she had yesterday, except now I kept catching her looking at me like I was a wounded puppy.

  “What?” I finally asked around lunch time.

  We were both sitting behind the large, “L” shaped desk. S
he had a tupperware of some strong smelling fish and pesto sauce and I had pasta with a jar of store bought sauce. One of my early poverty finance lessons had been how comparatively cheap it was to buy pasta. A few dollars would get several meals worth, and if money was extra tight, I could skip the sauce and just eat it plain.

  “You seem like a sweet girl,” Martha said. “And you’re picking everything up pretty quick. I just can’t help wondering if this is really the job you want to take.”

  I speared a few penne noodles with my fork, then shook my head. “It’s not really about what I want. I need the money, and my former boss promised to blacklist me to everyone she knows. If I didn’t take this one, it sounded like Adrian was planning to do the same thing. Unless I want to work fast food, I think I’m stuck here. For now, at least.”

  “You shouldn’t call him Adrian. It’s Mr. White.”

  I gave her a funny look, which made her laugh when she appeared to realize how that had sounded.

  “Mr. White has very strict standards. I’m not sure how much you got to see of him, but he’s… intense.”

  “Yeah. I gathered that much.”

  “He expects perfection out of everybody at all times. I don’t think he makes mistakes, and he seems to think it’s reasonable to expect everybody who works for him to be just as perfect. It’s why he’s always so angry. Nobody can ever live up to his demands.”

  I chewed, thinking about how similar that sounded to someone else I knew. A Coleton keeps their cool, always. No matter what. A Coleton never…

  I cleared my throat. “No pressure. Just have to be perfect and the boss will be happy!”

  It was supposed to be a joke, but Martha’s smile looked sad. “I was at peace with leaving. Now that I know I’m leaving you here to go through what I went through, I feel conflicted.”

  “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

  She nodded, but her body language hadn’t changed. She still looked like she was expecting him to rip my arms off and beat me over the head with them. I was a dead woman walking, as far as she was concerned, and I couldn’t help wondering if the rest of the staff was just as terrified.

  Walker arrived with a box of his things and a frightened look on his face a few minutes after we’d finished our lunch. He was a tall, lanky man with a thinning hairline.

  “Wow,” I said. “He actually followed through.”

  “Walker,” Martha said. “You really shouldn’t be here. If Mr. White--”

  “He called me,” Walker said, almost as if in a daze. “He told me to come back. Said I could have a raise for the inconvenience…”

  “What?” Martha whispered.

  Walker gave her a look like he was just as baffled, then slowly made his way past us and toward his old desk. I couldn’t tell if he was excited to get his job back or if part of him wished he’d been allowed to stay fired.

  I wanted to give Adrian—no, Mr. White—some slight credit for making good on his promise. I’d halfway expected him to tell me he’d been full of shit about hiring Walker back and that I could deal with it or leave.

  But it was difficult to do much except feel disgusted by the man who inspired such terror in his employees. Maybe it was just a relic of my old life as a Coleton, but I thought this asshole deserved to be brought down several pegs. He was just a big fish in a small pond, even if he was inhumanly attractive.

  “That’s so strange,” Martha said. “Mr. White lays off staff constantly. I’ve never heard of him re-hiring someone. Does this have something to do with you?”

  The intercom on the desk beeped. “Miss Adams. My office. Now.”

  Martha gulped. “Just listen, nod your head, and tell him what he wants to hear. Okay?”

  “I’ll be okay,” I said, smiling to reassure her.

  When I moved through the publishing office, everyone had their heads down and only a few people glanced up at me. Walker was putting the things back on his desk with a dumbfounded expression.

  I opened Mr. White’s door. “You asked to see-”

  He was standing at the window overlooking the city. “Knock before you enter my office,” he said, not turning his back. He half turned when I didn’t move. “Step back out, knock, and wait until I ask for you to enter.”

  I balled my fists, walked out, and knocked what I hoped was a sarcastic little rhythm. “May I enter?”

  “Come in,” he called. He was still standing in the same place, broad shoulders silhouetted by the bright sunlight. He was quite the sight, and I found myself in a constant battle to remember he was like one of those poison frogs. No matter how brightly colored, pretty, and tempting to lick he might be—he was pure poison. Or was it venom? I always forgot which was which.

  On that note, I also wondered why it seemed such a popular thing to warn people about. Were there really swarms of toad lickers out there who needed to be told not to lick the bright ones?

  I took a seat in the chair across from his desk, raising my eyebrows as I waited. I knew Martha had told me not to speak, but I couldn’t help myself. Mr. White seemed to tickle every obstinate, feisty nerve in my brain. “Did you call me in here so you’d have an audience while you impressively scan the horizon?” I asked.

  He waited long enough to tell me he was ignoring my comment. “I value your backbone, Miss Adams. But that mouth of yours needs to be tamed.”

  I reared my head back, frowning. “Let me guess, you’re the one who is going to tame my mouth? That sounds awfully unprofessional, Mr. White.” God. I hated how even a relatively innocent sentence started to transform and feel more wicked when he was involved.

  “I don’t bullshit,” he said simply. “I told you when I hired you yesterday, I plan to continue climbing up the corporate ladder, and I plan to do it quickly. I need good people if I’m going to succeed. I don’t have time to sugar coat or handhold. Anyone too weak to deal with me isn’t a good fit.”

  I scoffed. Grudgingly, I could at least appreciate him being transparent. Even if I didn’t completely buy his explanation. He was trying to tell me he was only an ass because he was vetting people—trying to figure out who he could bring along for the ride. “Why do you care so much about ‘climbing the corporate ladder?’ Money? Is that all?”

  He finally turned away from the window and moved to his desk. He picked up a paperweight and hefted it in his hand, studying it as if it might hold the answer to my question. “Only my closest friends have a right to that answer.”

  “You have friends?” I blurted. Whoops.

  He looked up sharply, but I thought I saw the shadow of amusement in his expression. “Believe it or not, I do.”

  “Not,” I muttered.

  “Your primary responsibility here, Miss Adams, is to serve as my filter. You’ll screen my emails, calls, and personal requests. I have a binder detailing exactly how to know which ones need my immediate attention, which ones can wait, and which ones can be ignored. I expect you to study that binder like it’s the Bible.”

  “Is this a bad time to mention I haven’t ever studied the Bible? Is there a particular method, or-”

  “I admire backbone, but I have no time for sass, Miss Adams.” Mr. White’s eyes were cold fires.

  But you have time to stare out your window and play with paperweights on your desk? “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes,” he said. “You’ll be my shadow. When I’m here, you’re here. You don’t leave until I do, and you will be here when I’m here. If I need an errand run, you’ll be the one I trust to run it. You’ll learn how to make sure everything is completed to my standards.”

  “Alright,” I said. This time, I didn’t ask if there was anything else, because I was worried the man would pull more tasks out of his well-sculpted ass just to spite me. “Should I go start studying the binder?” I asked sweetly.

  “Yes. I need to get ready for this afternoon.”

  “What’s this afternoon?”

  He shot me a warning look.

  “You said I’
m your shadow. Shouldn’t I know what you have planned?”

  Mr. White hesitated, then folded his arms. “I’m performing a surprise audit tonight. I give my employees deadlines, but I like to know who is waiting until the last minute and who is staying up to speed with their work.”

  “What happens to the procrastinators?”

  “They get replaced.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m going to go get to know this Bible of yours. Good talk.” I got up and left his office as quickly as I could.

  When I was back on the office floor, I saw the people all working quietly at their desks. The place was thick with oppression. I could tell they were all terrified of Mr. White, and I saw why. He treated them all as disposable. It was a constant test, and nobody knew the rules.

  I found Martha back at the reception area. She was chewing her nails and flinched when I walked out of the double doors. “Hey,” I said. “Is there a way to email all the employees here but not Mr. White?”

  Martha stared. “If there was, that would be a dangerous idea. One of the rules in his binder is that you CC him on every email.”

  “Can you start an email for me to the employees but not Mr. White?”

  Martha gnawed on her nail harder now. “I don’t know, Jules. If Mr. White finds out you-”

  “He won’t. But if he does it’ll be all my idea. I’ll tell him I figured out how to do it on my own.”

  “Do I even want to ask what you’re wanting to email them all?”

  “It’ll be better if you don’t know. You know, in case he tortures you or something.” Once again, I’d meant it as a joke, but Martha just gulped and went pale. She clacked away at a few keys, then rolled her chair out of the way.

  “All yours,” she whispered.

  “Thanks,” I said. I hammered out a quick email letting everybody know Mr. White was going to be performing a surprise audit on them tonight and that if they were behind, they should fix that ASAP. I hit send, then dusted my hands.