by Lila Younger
Copyright
© 2016 Lila Younger
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Boss of Me
About Lila Younger
Chapter 1
Chelsea
I wish for the third time tonight that I could say no to Steph. But I can’t. I haven’t been able to since I met her in Kindergarten and she declared that we were going to be best friends. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied up into pigtails, and she was wearing a pair of purple corduroy overalls with a tutu over top. I was dressed in a boring baby blue t-shirt and denim skirt that my mom made me wear. Even then I felt boring and plain next to her. But Steph saw something in me: an accomplice. I willingly allowed Steph to decide what we’d do during recess, and that was that. Through the years there were more than a few times when Steph got me in trouble with her, but I had to admit that my life would be a lot more boring without her.
Tonight though, I just want to be home, sinking into a tub of bubbles. With a bottle of wine. Maybe two. Definitely not out at this microbrewery. I’m wearing a red dress that’s definitely too fancy for this place. This was a jeans and flannel kind of a place. The yellowy dim lights make it hard to see anything but the game on the flatscreens, and the blasting music makes it impossible to have a conversation. We’re at a rickety table that hasn’t seen a dishrag in months. I’m terrified to put my elbows on it. I don’t know why she’s picked this place of all places to discuss her wedding plans. It’s out of the way, and all I can think about is whether I want to brave public transit in an hour or spring for a cab. I take a sip of my pint. I know nothing about beer, except that I’ve yet to find one I really like.
“So bring me up to date on things,” I say. I’m the maid of honor of course, but my duties, the bachelorette party, the shower, etc. come later down the line. She only got engaged a month ago after all, so I figure I have at least a few months before I have to start looking into anything.
“It’s awful!” Steph sighs. “I really want to go with something more relaxed, like this cute little barn an hour outside of the city. Lots of lace and burlap and candles, that sort of a thing. But Michael’s mom insists on having it in a hotel or something. She doesn’t want to get cow poop on her dress she says, even though I keep telling her it’s an actual wedding venue.”
“And what does Michael say?”
She rolls her eyes and takes a swig of her beer. She ordered some kind of dark beer that looks bitter and earthy. It must be good though, because she’s already drank half. That or her future mother-in-law really is that difficult.
“He says that he’s not going to get between us. The thing is, his mom is helping pay for a third of the wedding so she thinks she’s got veto power.”
“Steph, of course she thinks that. She’s paying for it. Why don’t you just cut out fifty people from the guest list and say no thanks to her money?”
“I wish I could, but then I’d have to answer to my mom.”
Poor Steph. She’s been dating Michael since we went to university together. You’d think that after six years his mom would be used to her by now, but she’s still convinced that there’s a chance Michael will change his mind. The two of them are truly a perfect couple, equally blonde, tall and gorgeous. They’re going to have sickeningly cute babies. I feel a little pang of jealousy that I force way down my gut. It’s not Steph’s fault she found her soul mate during frosh week while I’ve been dating one loser after another.
Our food finally arrives: A cheeseburger and fries for me, and a grilled chicken burger for Steph. She’s one of those people who are perpetually saying their on a diet, while sabotaging it. She says she means it this time with the wedding and all, but I’ll believe it when I see it. Not that she needs to be. Her Marilyn Monroe-like figure attracts tons of attention, all of it good from the male species.
“This is good,” I say, my mood improving slightly from the infusion of salt and fat. I eye the dry chicken breast in her burger. “How’s yours?”
“Fine,” she says, but then I see her chug down her mouthful with beer. Definitely dry.
“How’d you hear about this place again?”
Instead of answering, her eyes see something over my shoulder, following it across the room for a second before coming back to me. Oh no. She has that look again. That look that says ‘hey I think there’s a cute guy for you’. It’s stepped up quite a bit since she got engaged. I think maybe she feels guilty that I still haven’t found someone to have a decent relationship with. I try to tell her that at twenty four I still have plenty of time, but she doesn’t listen.
“Steph,” I say holding up my hand. “No. Not this again.”
She leans in, ignoring my words.
“Chelsea, he’s tall, at least six foot, so you can wear heels unlike the last time. Sorry about that by the way, but he looked very cute while he was still sitting. And oooo, he’s got really nice wavy hair. Five o’clock shadow, and he’s wearing a red and black plaid shirt and jeans. Quick, he’s moving towards the bar! If you look off to the side you can catch a glimpse of him.”
“Steph!” I hiss. “What did I tell you? I’m not interested in dating right now. Stop looking at him like that. He’s going to feel you staring.”
“People can’t actually feel someone staring at them,” she says, swiping one of my fries. Good thing I’d already foreseen that and ordered extra.
“Doesn’t matter. Stop looking before he catches you.”
She huffs but thankfully looks away at last. I sneak a quick look, and not because I’m curious. I just want to make sure the guy hasn’t discovered Steph’s gawking. He is sort of cute, I guess, but he’s already headed back to his table with a handful of drinks so there’s no chance of me making contact.
“I don’t understand why you won’t give anyone a try,” she says. “Don’t tell me you’re still trying to sleep with Brandon?”
I choke on my fry. I thump on my chest a few times and gulp down some beer. Why oh why had I told her about my devastatingly handsome boss?
“No,” I manage to gasp at last. “Besides, I think he’s got a girlfriend. He asked me if I thought that a girl would enjoy going to the jazz festival this summer. Asked me to get two tickets.”
I try to sound as casual as I can while I tell her, but I don’t think I do a very good job, because she’s making sympathetic noises. It gutted me too. I was almost positive that he was single, because he hadn’t asked me to order him flowers or anything for Valentine’s Day. But maybe a classy man like him would go above and beyond flowers? Maybe he’d gone jewelry shopping for her. Maybe he’d found someone in the two months since then. He hadn’t seemed any happier than usual... My rambling thoughts are interrupted when my ears pick up something Steph is saying.
“Well, I guess we didn’t need to come all this way after all huh?”
I frown at her.
“What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t pick this place because it was convenient that’s for su
re,” she grumbles, oblivious to my growing annoyance. “I just thought maybe we’d run into your boss here.”
“You what?” My voice is pitching up. It’s a good thing that the music is so loud because I’m pretty sure I’m about to yell at Steph.
She shrugs like it’s no big deal. I try to calm my breathing but I’m failing terribly. Is he here? He can’t be!
“I thought maybe it would be nice to see him out of the office you know? Then maybe it wouldn’t be so hard for you to talk to him a little.” She finally sees how pissed I am. “Oh come on Chel! You’ve got it so bad for him. You haven’t dated anyone since you started working for him a year ago. So I looked him up on Facebook, and it turns out that one of my co-workers is his neighbor or something, so his profile is wide open for me. Found out that he likes to come to this bar, and I figured we could give it a shot.”
Steph leans back into her chair, crossing her arms. She’s pleased, I can tell, which only makes me more mad.
“Okay, firstly, I can’t believe you did this. What if he thinks I’m stalking him or something? And second, you’ve been able to see his profile this whole time and you haven’t told me?!”
“Relax,” she says. “We can just pretend we were in the area shopping or something. There’s a mall about a block away. Oh hey... I didn’t think it’d work this quickly though.”
“WHAT?” I almost yell, gripping onto her arm. I’m probably ruining the pretty silk material with my greasy fingers but I don’t care right now. I lean in close to her. “Did you say he’s here?!”
“Yeah,” she says, utterly calm. “I think that’s him over there waiting for a table. Want me to go say hi? We do have friends in common.”
I shake my head furiously. No way. The last thing I need is Steph going over there and talking to him, because I know that it’s not just small talk with her. She’ll ask all kinds of questions, and try to set me up on the spot. It only took one humiliation like that before I learned that putting Steph in front of anyone I like is a bad idea. She means well, but subtle is not her middle name.
Just in case Steph’s wrong, I sneak a look towards the front door.
Oh my God. It is him. Brandon McAllister. My gaze is magnetically drawn to him every time, but even I can’t deny that having a relationship with my boss is wrong. It has to be professional all the way, even if that’s the last thing I want. Of course, Steph’s already told me that I should go for it. Tonight he is wearing dark, faded jeans and a plain black shirt that strains across his wide shoulders and chest, revealing the toned body that is usually covered by his suit jackets. He looks so good looking that it was intimidating sometimes. I want to lick every inch of him.
Then I catch sight of something that makes my heart drop to my stomach. His dark eyes, usually serious, are crinkled and smiling at the girl beside him. A lover? A friend? I hope it’s a friend. There’s another guy there too, who taps on the girls shoulder and says something. She gives his arm a quick squeeze and I let out the breath I was holding. Definitely not Mr. McAllister’s girlfriend.
He turns toward me and I whip my head back to Steph, my heart pounding in my ears. I could feel him looking at me though, and it made me my heart pound.
“We’re getting out of here,” I tell Steph. “Where’s the waiter at?”
Of course, there’s nobody in sight. I see a girl come out from the kitchen and try to wave her over.
“What? I haven’t even finished my burger,” Steph exclaims. “Relax a little Chelsea. What’s the worst that can happen? That you guys talk and hit it off? Maybe he takes you into bed? He looks like he’d be a good lover. Strong. Lots of stamina. Older too, so he probably knows his way around a woman’s body. Really, I can understand why you’re so gaga over him.”
I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation about my boss’ sexual prowess with him less than fifty feet away. His ears must be burning up.
“What if he thinks I followed him here or something? And in case you’ve forgotten our past few conversations, the reason we haven’t done anything, aside from the fact that he’s shown no interest, is because he’s my BOSS!”
I’m swinging my arm harder to try to catch the waitress’ attention, but she’s too focused on taking an order. Instead, I’ve caught the attention of someone else. My boss. Crap. I see him winding his way between the tables towards us. Steph is smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
“Chelsea,” he says in a rich, dark voice. It’s an authoritative voice, one that’s great at giving commands and used to being obeyed. That’s partly why I’m half in love with him already. “What a nice surprise!”
“Mr. McAllister,” I say faintly. He’s really here in front of me. Without the structure of work, I’m at a loss for what to say to him.
“Hi,” Steph says brightly, holding out her hand. I gaze at her and see her pushing her hair back. She’s not immune to his charm either. “I’m Stephanie, her best friend.”
“Nice to meet you.” He flashes her a smile that makes me irrationally jealous and takes her hand.
“So,” she says, “Are you really riding her as hard as she says you are, or is she just trying to get out of mailing out a thousand wedding invitations this weekend?”
“Steph!” I want the ground to swallow me up. My cheeks are flaming, and the only reason Mr. McAllister can’t see is because of the dim lights. That’s probably the only good thing about this place.
“We have to go,” I say to my boss.
“We do?” my ex-best friend says far too innocently.
“Yes. I’m really busy remember?” I pick up my purse and jacket. “See you Monday Mr. McAllister.”
I try to avoid his eyes as I move around him, yanking Steph by the arm as I march towards the register at the front. I don’t even care if I’m being rude. I just want to get out of here before Steph opens her mouth and tells him about my stupid infatuation with him. She’s trying to tell me to wait, but there’s no way I’m stopping. When I get to the register by the bar, I pay for both of us and we’re out of there in five minutes flat. I don’t let up until I get to the corner.
“I can’t believe you said that!” I exclaim. “How the hell am I going to face him at work?”
“You should have thought of that before you wigged out on him. He was being friendly. Now he definitely knows something is up.”
My hands slowly slide down my face. What a nightmare.
“So... are you really going to call it a night then Chelsea?” she asks, glancing at her watch. “I told Michael I wasn’t going to be home until at least nine.”
“No. What I think I need is a stiff drink. And you’re buying.”
Chapter 2
Brandon
It’s unbelievably late by the time I finish up the call to Shanghai. Almost nine o’ clock in fact. The fact that it had taken almost an hour to set up the conference call on their end was a piss off. Why wouldn’t they try the connection to make sure it worked before it was time to talk? It didn’t make any sense. And then there is the fact that they couldn’t seem to give me a straight answer on anything. We were supposed to have an agreement hammered out by the end of the day, but it seems like now it will take another week before this whole messy business was finished. It had taken everything in me to keep my anger in check.
I get up and grab my coat. I’ll have to make it up to Chelsea somehow. She gets some overtime, but still. Nobody likes to stay late on a Friday night. She probably has places to be, people to see. Wasn’t that how it was with twenty-somethings these days? I throw my tablet and my phone into my briefcase and my gym bag. I’ll have to make up for tonight with a session tomorrow. I exit out of my office and I’m busy locking the door when I get a tap on my shoulder.
“Mr. McAllister,” Chelsea’s voice purrs. “I was wondering when you’d finish up.”
I turn around and my jaw drops. She’s... was she wearing that this morning? There was no way. That was the dress I saw her in at the brewery. It clung to her curve
s tight, leaving nothing to the imagination. And man, was it a gorgeous body. The plunging neckline promised a perfect mouthful of her breast, and the hem was high enough that I could slide my hand up between her legs with no problem. Was it really that short when I saw her? Who cares? I think. This is a ‘fuck me’ dress, and I am happy to oblige. My dick tented my pants in two seconds flat.
“Chelsea. Sorry to keep you late.” I wish I could say that I kept my eyes on her eyes, but that was impossible in a dress like that. “Let me make it up to you.”
I close the gap between us, pushing her back into her desk. My hand reaches out to steady her, but really I just want to touch her. She’s warm and soft and smells delicious, like vanilla and something floral. My hand ghosts over her inner thigh, before pressing up against hot silk panties. She’s ready all right, wet and slick with need, just the way I like it. I savor the way her eyelids flutter under my touch, and I’m just about to flick aside the scrap of fabric when the fire alarm rings. I stop, looking around the room.
“Hey, you need to focus here boss,” she pouts. “I wasn’t ready to stop.”
“That’s the fire alarm. I think we need to go.”
“No we don’t. That’s the alarm on your phone. You need to wake up. WAKE UP.”
I surface out of sleep with a jolt. It’s five forty a.m. and my alarm is indeed going off. The dream has given me one hell of a morning wood. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, trying to erase the feelings from the dream before waking up fully and getting out of bed. I have my alarm on the dresser in my room so that I wouldn’t turn it off automatically- a habit I kept from my high school days. The dream is still toying with my mind. How long has it been since I’ve had a wet dream like that? A while. The last time was when Chelsea had first started working. I still remember her first day, in her black heels and the skirt that wrapped around her tight ass. What can I say. I’m a guy. I notice, even if I know better than to act on it.
She had been my fifth PA in less than three years. You’d think being an assistant was easy- get the boss’ coffee, make sure his appointments don’t overlap too much, and keep him up to date on things. But it’s not. It’s way more than that. I need an assistant to take care of the little things, the details that I haven’t thought of, so that my mind can focus on the work. Basically I need someone who isn’t just going to respond to my commands, but can anticipate them and plan accordingly. Almost all of the assistants hired, men and women, were useless in that regard.
