Breaking up with My Boss: An Enemies to Lovers, Office Romance (Love You Forever Book 4)

by Alexis Winter

  Ten

  Matthew

  Well, it seems that turning her down has just brought us full circle. We’re no longer playing nice—no longer on good terms. It’s like she’s doing everything she can to piss me off. She either ignores me completely or says things she knows will only piss me off. She ruined her nails that I just had done for a function we’re attending, and now she’s trying to bail on the gym? Ha! No fucking way. I’ll take her myself if I have to.

  I lie down in bed in an attempt to cool down. Only she can make my blood boil this way. Taking a quiet minute to myself works a little too well at relaxing me, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up. I turn my head and look over at the clock. It’s going on 5 p.m., the time Poppy’s supposed to be starting with her trainer. Fuck. I just know she’ll be late.

  I push myself up and use my private bathroom before exiting my room. To my surprise, she’s no longer on the couch. The table has been cleaned and the couch is clear of crumbs. I walk down the hallway to her bedroom door and find it open and empty. Huh. Maybe she actually listened to me for once.

  My cell phone rings and I pull it from my pocket. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Mr. Lewis?”

  “Yes?”

  “Hi, this is Jake from the gym. I’m here for the training session, but I’m not finding anyone by the name of Poppy. She’s still coming, isn’t she?”

  “Well, she isn’t at home, so I assume she is.”

  “All right, well, just a reminder, I’m booked with her three nights a week. If she doesn’t show, my rate doesn’t change. It’ll still cost you the same at the end of the week.”

  “I’m aware. Just give her a few more minutes. She’s always running late.”

  “Will do.” He hangs up the phone and I let out an annoyed breath.

  Why do I have a feeling this is all part of her plan to drive me crazy? It’s bad enough she wasn’t up in time for brunch this morning with my family. I refuse to treat her like a child. I got tired of waiting around and left without her. Grandmother wasn’t too pleased that I came alone, and Dad was surprised by the news that I had a fiancée, which prompted a long list of questions.

  I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt and don’t go down to the gym. I want to trust her to do as she says she will. If she doesn’t, then I’ll know she isn’t serious about this arrangement and I’ll just turn this video over to the police and be done with it all. Scaring her is the only way to get her to do anything. I find it odd how we seemed to do a 180—going from hating each other to getting along so well. Then we did another 180, putting us back where we started after I rejected her. How many more times are we going to turn in circles?

  At 7 p.m., dinner is on the table and she walks in, looking calm and refreshed. She doesn’t look like she’s been sweating her ass off at the gym.

  “Jake called,” I say, capturing her attention the moment she walks into the dining room.

  “Who?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

  “The trainer I hired for you. You were just there, weren’t you?”

  “Oh,” she breathes out, already looking a little guilty. “Well, I was at the gym, but I didn’t . . .”

  “Use a trainer?” I ask.

  “I didn’t work out,” she states.

  I think I see red. “What do you mean you didn’t work out? What the hell have you been doing there for the last two hours?”

  “Well, I got a back massage and a foot massage. I had some cucumber water and got a facial . . .”

  I cut her off. “All of those treatments cost extra. They aren’t included in your membership.”

  “Oh, I know. I just told them to add everything to the card on file. Hope you don’t mind.” She offers up a smile

  I have to remind myself that I can’t kill her. I take a deep breath, hold it, and then slowly release it. But even that doesn’t help the anger. “Let me get this straight: you ruined the manicure and pedicure I paid for, then you skipped the trainer I paid for. But you used your gym membership to get in and have more spa treatments, which I’m also paying for?”

  She doesn’t reply, but I see the guilt clearly written on her face.

  “That’s it,” I breathe out, standing up so quickly that my chair nearly topples over.

  “What’s it?” she asks, brows drawn together.

  “This is over. Get your shit and get out. I’ll be turning in that video first thing in the morning and charges will be coming your way.”

  “What? Wait!” she says when I turn to leave the room.

  My feet stop moving but I don’t turn around.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll do what I’m supposed to do. Please don’t turn in that video. I’ll rot in jail. My family doesn’t have the money to get me out of that kind of trouble. Please, I’ll do anything,” she begs.

  Finally, I turn around, my mood suddenly lighter. “Anything?” I ask.

  She nods. “Anything.”

  “You’ll go to the gym and work out with your trainer?”

  She nods.

  “You’ll go to your classes and be on time?”

  Again, she nods.

  “You’ll continue to come to work and do your job to the best of your ability?”

  She rolls her eyes but nods.

  “And you’ll stop with this bullshit attitude?”

  “I’ll do my best on that one.”

  I’m speechless, waiting for her to explain.

  She takes a breath and says, “I just think it’s probably best, in our situation, to keep our distance when we’re able. Lines clearly got blurred Friday night and I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want to let my guard down and fall for this act you’re putting on. I’ll do all of the things you mentioned: I’ll do the family stuff and the other functions you need me for, but other than that, I’d really like to keep my distance from you for a while.”

  I open my mouth but am not sure how to reply. That’s the exact opposite of what I want. I don’t want more space between us. I want to take the space away. I want her to see the real me—not the guy she sometimes brings out in me: a rude, cocky asshole. I’d hoped that this living arrangement would force us together and something would blossom between us. But now she’s pulling back? That’s not what I wanted at all. However, I’m not in the mood to argue with her any further. Instead, I let her leave the room and opt to give her the space she seems to be needing. We’ll readdress this in a few days after she’s had time to cool off.

  Over the next few days, neither of us talks more than we have to. In the mornings, we eat breakfast in silence. At work, we only talk out of necessity. After work, she goes to the gym or I do. Dinner is eaten in silence, then we go to our separate rooms. If we bump into each other around the house, nothing is said—we only exchange looks. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells in my own house. I desperately want to talk to her, but at the same time, I don’t want to break first. I want her to come to me. Is that too much to ask?

  It’s Thursday night: day four of the silent treatment. The only sounds in the dining room are forks scraping off plates, chewing, and breathing. The silence in the room is damn near deafening. It’s driving me crazy and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. Once upon a time, I prayed for the silent treatment from her. But now it feels weird after seeing how we could be. I suddenly want to ask how the gym is going for her. How she’s sleeping being away from home. If there’s anything she needs. I don’t want this to feel like a punishment, even though it technically is in her eyes.

  I let out an exasperated breath and let my fork fall from my hand. It clatters against the plate loudly, getting her attention like I knew it would. “This is ridiculous, Poppy.”

  “What is?” she asks, still eating and looking down at her plate.

  “The whole silent treatment thing. It’s driving me crazy. Can’t we just go back to fighting?”

  The corners of her mouth begin to lift slightly, but she catches herself and pulls them back down into
place. “Well, I’m sorry if I can’t get along with a man who’s forcing me to do things I don’t want to do.”

  “What don’t you want to do?” I ask, even though I kind of have an idea.

  “I don’t want to be forced into going to the gym if I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to get yelled at if I don’t like the color of my nails and feel like changing them. I don’t want to have to argue to have basic human rights. Why is this so hard for you to understand? You don’t own me.” She levels her eyes on me, and even though my anger is sky-high right now, it’s covered up by the longing she causes me to feel.

  “Okay, look, I’m sorry for yelling at you about your nails, but I had them done that way for a reason. We have several upcoming events, and I thought plain nails would match all of your dresses.”

  “I didn’t know we had anything to go to other than your family meals.” The anger on her face begins to soften.

  “I have a friend who’s opening his first art gallery, and we’ve been invited to the grand opening. There’s also a charity event my father is holding at the corporation next week. I didn’t tell you because I . . . I don’t know. I didn’t want to give you time to come up with an excuse to miss it.”

  She lets out a long breath and her shoulders visibly fall. She sets down her fork and leans in toward me. “I wouldn’t try getting out of our arrangement, Matthew.”

  “You already are,” I point out. “We’re supposed to be bonding and getting to know each other on a daily basis, but instead, you’re completely ignoring me.”

  She nods. “You’re right. I thought that if living with me was unbearable for you that you’d get tired of it eventually and let this whole thing go.”

  “Look, I know this is technically a punishment for you, but I don’t want it to feel that way. I want you to enjoy being here. So can we please drop the silent treatment and go back to how we were last week?”

  Her lips form a soft, shy smile and she nods. “Yeah,” she agrees.

  Eleven

  Poppy

  I’m thrown off guard at dinner. He really seems upset by my lack of interest in him and this game. I wanted it over, but not for the reasons he’s probably thinking. I wanted it over so I’d no longer have that embarrassing reminder of how he rejected me. I wanted it over so I’d no longer have to look temptation in the eye every single day. I wanted it over so these feelings would stop in their tracks. I just wanted everything to go back to how it was: me thinking he’s a sexy asshole. Seeing the human side of him has only made those feelings of attraction stronger. I didn’t want it over in order to have my freedom back or anything like that, although I’m sure that’s what he’s assuming.

  I’ve holed myself up in my room for four long nights now, never coming out. If I needed water, I got it from the bathroom attached to my room. Anything else could wait. But with that talk out of the way, I feel like I should start coming out again. I don’t want him to think I’m still avoiding him, but I want to break the ice gently. After my shower, I decide to go to the kitchen for the chocolate cake I passed on after dinner. My hair is wet and hanging around me, soaking the back of my shirt that hangs to my knees.

  I open the door and peek down the hallway, finding nothing and no sounds. I step out and walk through the living room then into the kitchen. I push through the swinging door and freeze when I’m face-to-face with him. He has the chocolate cake out of the fridge. It’s sitting on the island and he’s standing over it with a fork in hand, eating it directly off the cake stand.

  He looks up at me with a grin—like he’s been caught. “Want some?”

  I giggle and nod. “Yeah,” I agree, moving over to the cake on the other side of the island from him.

  He opens a drawer and pulls out a fork, handing it over.

  I take the fork and bend down, leaning against the island as I slide my fork through the fluffy cake. I take a bite and the sweetness overtakes me. “Mmm,” I mumble with my eyes closed. I swallow it and open my eyes, finding him watching me intently.

  I feel the heat creep up my cheeks. “That’s really good cake,” I say out of embarrassment.

  He lets out a silent laugh that sounds like air quickly blowing through his nostrils, but the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. “It is really good.” He takes another bite.

  “You’re going to have to hit the gym twice as hard tomorrow,” I tease him.

  He shrugs. “It’s worth it.”

  I smile as I take another bite. He leans against the island in the same fashion I am, putting us almost nose-to-nose.

  “Why are you staring?” I ask, feeling the heat in my cheeks only growing hotter.

  He shrugs. “Your eyes are really dark tonight—like midnight: black with a hint of blue.”

  I swallow down the bite I just took. “Yeah, they do that sometimes. Usually it’s only when—” I stop myself from talking and shove another bite into my mouth. “Never mind,” I say, shaking my head and dropping my fork in the sink. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Wait,” he says, standing up. “You’re not going to leave me hanging like that, are you?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I am. Night.” I push my way through the swinging door and almost run to my bedroom. I can’t believe I almost admitted that my eyes only darken like that when I’m turned on. But I couldn’t help it. I was standing there—watching him closely as he savored each bite. I could smell his body wash: cottonwood and musk. We were so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body and I wanted nothing more than to feel it against me again.

  I push off the bedroom door I’m leaning against and get into bed. Maybe sleep will help me calm down. I can only pray.

  I’m at the gym and hate him more than anything. I also hate myself for not staying in shape. I hate the trainer who’s not cutting me any slack. But mostly, I hate that I like it. I’m sure I’m probably screwed up in the head, but something deep down is telling me to do this—to try—to see if I can become his type. I know this isn’t the way to start a good relationship, but I’m not exactly trying to start a relationship either. I just want to see how differently he’ll view me . . . and maybe have some fun with him along the way. If he thinks I’m suddenly his type after this Pygmalion makeover, he’s more lost than I thought.

  By the time I get back to his place, my clothes are soaked with sweat. My hair is drenched and I’m completely worn out. He’s in the dining room when I come in, but I pass him by and go to shower. I wash off quickly, much too tired to spend any real time scrubbing my body. All I want to do is get clean, eat, and crash out. I pull on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and go to the dining room to grab something quick for dinner. To my surprise, he’s still sitting in the same chair.

  He looks up at me when I enter. “Hey, you missed dinner, but I had them leave it out for you if you’re hungry.”

  “Thank God. I’m starving. I would’ve joined you, but I think the smell coming off of me would’ve ruined your appetite.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, I’ve been there. How’s the gym going, by the way? Are you learning to like it yet?”

  I take my plate and fix a salad. “Sort of. I mean, I hate it, but I like it at the same time. It’s really weird.”

  He nods. “I know exactly how you feel. I felt the same way when I started. But the good part is, if you don’t stop, you just like it more and the hate seems to slip away.”

  I take a piece of grilled chicken and slice it up to top my salad.

  “It looks like you’re already seeing some improvements.”

  I look over at him to see him checking out my ass as I reach across the table for the salad dressing. I laugh. “Did you just check out my ass?”

  At first, he looks like a deer in the headlights who’s been caught, but that look fades away and his cocky attitude returns. “What? I’m not allowed to look at the progress I’m paying for?” He’s wearing a smirk.

  I shake my head clear. I feel like I should be mad, but instead, I feel almost giddy that I’v
e gotten his attention. I don’t know what that says about me, but I like it regardless. At least I don’t have to explain these weird emotions to anyone, because I probably wouldn’t be able to. I mean, how can a woman be so attracted to a man who’s so cocky, arrogant, and downright mean at times? Yes, I’m pretty sure this speaks volumes about my character.

  I take my seat and begin eating, only focusing on getting the nutrition I need so I can go to sleep. I push away all thoughts of him and how he makes me feel. It’s nothing but confusing—even to me.

  “I’ve called off dinner with my grandmother this week. I thought it might be good for us to have some alone time to regroup after our long week.”

  My eyes pop up to his. “What do you mean? Aren’t we only doing this for your grandmother?”

  He nods. “Yes, but I feel we were way off-balance and it would be worth it to take some time to ourselves. Start fresh, if you will.”

  I chew my food and nod. “So what’s the plan?”

  “You’ll see,” he says around a smirk as he stands.

  I’m speechless as I watch him walk out of the dining room, leaving me alone.

  “Your clothes are on your bed,” Matthew says when I walk in from work.

  “What?”

  “I mentioned that we were doing something different today, yes?”

  “Yes,” I reply, nodding my head once.

  “Well, your clothes are on your bed.” He says it slowly this time, as if I didn’t understand the first time he said that same sentence.

  “Okay,” I mumble, heading to my room.

  I drop my purse on the chair by the door and move over to the bed to see what exactly he has in store. I’m surprised when I don’t find a dress and heels before me. Instead, it’s a pair of white skinny jeans, some Sperry boat shoes, and a light blue polo shirt with a white sweater. That’s weird. Where in the world is he taking me?