by Stella Rhys
Bad Boss
Stella Rhys
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Thank you!
Sweet Spot
Contact Stella
BAD BOSS
Copyright © 2017 by Stella Rhys
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written consent of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Vivian Monir
Editing: Wendy Chan, The Passionate Proofreader
1
SARA
Holy shit.
I panted in the backseat of the cab, still running on the adrenaline of tonight’s potentially disastrous decision-making. It could be the biggest mistake of my life but fuck it, I’d done it.
I’d finally walked out.
I was supposed to be Stable Sara with Excel sheets for everything from her taxes to her groceries to her budget for next year’s Christmas gifts, but tonight I had officially reached my limit and quit the dream job I’d given my entire adult life to despite everyone imploring me to stay. But the company’s so famous, so iconic. You’ve put in so much time already. Why not stick around? Shouldn’t you consider yourself lucky to be there in the first place?”
I scrunched up my face as I freed myself from my blazer.
Yeah, no. Not so much.
If lucky meant nine years of chasing nonexistent promotions, being tricked into working thousands of overtime hours without the pay, getting thrown under the bus for anything the higher-ups did wrong, and spending the past three months on a piece that my editor had no intention of crediting me for – a fun fact I’d discovered just today – then sure, I was lucky. So lucky that I wound up permanently deleting all history of my research, contacts and writing, leaving the office in a blaze of glory that set my bosses back three months of hard work.
So… bridges?
All burned.
There was definitely no going back. And while it was exhilarating now, I knew that by morning, once reality set in, I’d be horrified. I’d worked with the company since I was eighteen. My office-centric life was all I knew. Being overworked was all I knew. In fact, I had no clue what to do with my time if I wasn’t strapped to a desk, and around 8AM tomorrow, I’d probably remember all that and have a very thorough meltdown.
So for now, I was going to ride the high.
“You said Lower East Side, miss?” the cabbie called back to confirm.
“Yes, Ludlow Street, right below Houston.”
Also known as the corner of Drink My Ass Off and Dance Till Four, I declared silently, yanking out my hair tie and shaking out my topknot.
I was in a rare mood.
I was feeling bold… liberated. Practically drunk off the thrill of having no responsibilities tomorrow. For the first time in my adult life, I had no one to report to, not a soul to be on call for, and I felt good about it, which was something I knew wouldn’t last, so… why not take advantage of tonight and do something crazy?
Well.
I bit my lip. I had answers for that.
A bevy of them that had to do with spur-of-the-moment decisions having deep and lasting consequences, and how I should really, really know that better than anyone else. But before I could get into that buzzkill with myself, a storm of texts pinged in my phone.
Perfect timing. I reached into my pocket, knowing without looking that the messages were all from my best friend.
LIA: Helloooo why must you text me and then disappear??
LIA: Wait so I don’t get it are you really going to make it tonight? How did you get out of work??
LIA: Did you finally duct tape your boss to her chair like I told you to
ME: Hi. I did… in a way. I’ll tell you when I get there. It’s a long story that you’re not going to believe and I’m going to require a drink first. Maybe three.
LIA: Yessssss story time so excited
LIA: Also Lukas knows the owners here so… open bar : )
ME: YESS. I’m 5 min away. Rooftop at the Victorian Hotel?
LIA: Yep rooftop terrace! Just give them Lukas’s name at the door. Should I have a drink ready for you?
ME: No but if you can find a hot guy who looks like he’d be killer in bed please grab him and tell him all about me
I was half-kidding but that didn’t stop the flurry of shocked emojis before Lia’s next message came in.
LIA: Whaaaaaaaaaat?
I snorted as I watched the ellipsis repeatedly drop off and return as my best friend tried to decide which of her many questions to ask first. I knew what she was thinking – when did I get the balls to have a one-night stand? Wasn’t I the chick who kept the same mild-mannered, borderline vanilla friend with benefits over the course of the past five years?
Yes. Yes, I was.
His name was Jeff and he was my copy editor at the magazine I just quit and figuratively set on fire. I chose him because he was already at the office and he was cute enough without being distractingly hot. He was pretty good without being great. He wasn’t strong enough to make me break much of a sweat during sex and show up to my next meeting disheveled – which sounded horrible, yes, but that was the point.
Jeff was just enough to satisfy my libido, but not enough to launch my hormones into crush mode. He got the job done so I could get my job done and finally earn myself a spot on the masthead like every one of my bosses kept promising I would. For that company, I’d adapted myself to an active but deeply mediocre sex life.
And all for nothing.
Those dicks, I scowled as Lia’s text finally came in.
LIA: HOLD ON I’M SO CONFUSED. WTF is happening can you tell me in one sentence please??
ME: FINE
ME: Basically I just snapped and quit June Magazine in a way that might get me blacklisted from publishing entirely so before I launch into disaster control tomorrow, I’m going to make up for all the years of bad sex I had for that company by finding the hottest guy at the bar tonight and having him do EVERYTHING to me.
Once I hit send, I let out a heavy whoosh of a breath. I didn’t realize it till a second after sending the text, but apparently my mind was made.
I was indulging tonight.
In everything.
Fuck it – for just one night, I was go
ing to let myself have whatever I wanted, however I wanted – as hard and fucking sweaty as I wanted.
In ten hours, it would be 8AM, but till then, every one of my rules would cease to exist.
Any fantasy I had, my wish was my own command, because I was both Cinderella and her own fairy godmother at the hotel rooftop ball. Tomorrow, it was back to reality.
But tonight, I was making every second worth it.
2
SARA
“Lia, we’re officially in the same building – can’t this wait till I meet you up on the roof?” I pleaded, my phone pressed between my shoulder and my ear as I handed the bouncer my ID. Once I slipped past him, I found myself in the sleek and seductive lobby of the hotel’s quieter side entrance, waiting alone for perhaps the slowest elevator known to man.
“No, Sara, it cannot wait, because you strung me along all night with your cryptic-ass texts and now that I finally know what the heck is going on, I’m drunk and I’m excited and I’m ready to butter up some hotties for you so they’re nice and warm by the time you get up here!”
“Oh, that just sounds… so creepy, Lia.”
“Did it?” She made a sad little sound. “I guess so. Lukas is giving me the weirdest look right now. But whatever, it’s not your night, Lukas – I’m talking to Lukas right now – it’s Sara’s night. Right, Sara? I’m talking to you right now.”
I had to laugh at what an adorable shitshow my best friend turned into after just a few glasses of wine. “Sure, drunkie, it is.”
“Exactly. So listen. I was talking to this guy just now who is a solid nine – don’t look at me like that, Lukas – and he is a total sweetheart. Like, such a nice person.”
“Uh-huh.”
Lia’s voice faded out as I opted to check my reflection in the mirrored doors of the elevator.
All things considered, not bad.
Despite the fact that I’d been ugly crying in the women’s bathroom at work two hours ago, my mascara was still fairly intact, as was the light blush I’d applied early this morning. Tilting my face to the side, I admired the natural sheen on the cheekbones I’d inherited from my mother – sky-high and eager to reflect any shred of light in the room. Lia fondly called them dirty attention whores. My cheekbones and my “ass that won’t quit,” apparently, were the guiltiest parts of my body.
Oh, Lia. I had to interrupt her when she got to the part about this super nice guy’s three rescue cats.
“Lia – listen,” I started carefully. “I appreciate your tip, and I love you very much, but I don’t think a cat dad sweetheart is what I’m looking for tonight.”
“What? Why?”
“Is this a serious question?” I jabbed the elevator button again out of pure restlessness. “And do we really need to be having this conversation right now?”
“Yes, Sara, it’s a serious question, because I’m drunk, and when I’m drunk, I have comprehension issues, which makes every question a serious question,” Lia explained with frustration, simultaneously charming and annoying the shit out of me like only she could do. “Now explain to me why you don’t want the nice guy I picked for you when I already told him all about you, and please tell me why you keep trying to get off the phone with me all night!”
“Because,” I hissed. “For starters, I just spent the past however many years having a bunch of okay sex with a guy I was the bare minimum of attracted to, so tonight I specifically don’t want that kind of sex. I want good, sweaty… kind of mean sex with a man who’ll just pin me down and… fuck me so hard he breaks the headboard. And to answer your second question, I want to get off the phone because I don’t want to talk about the mind-blowing sex I’m going to have tonight, I just want to have it. Thinking about it is turning me on to the point of torture right now and being on the phone with you while I’m this insane level of horny actually feels kind of weird, so will you please just let me get in the elevator, Li?” I asked, exasperated as I dragged my feet inside. “Because it’s here, I’m in, and I – ”
Fuck.
My heart seized as I turned around to see the world’s most stunning fucking force of a man stride in behind me, wearing a ridiculously expensive-looking suit, an incredibly crisp white shirt, and just enough of a smirk on that perfect mouth to let me know that he’d heard.
Everything.
“Um.” I raked my awkward smile between my teeth as we made two seconds of eye contact so scorching hot I could have ripped my clothes off right then and there. Swiftly hanging up on Lia, I peered over at the stranger.
Good Lord.
He was a walking statue – tall, stoic, and carved from stone. His thick brown hair was slicked back just enough to give me an unspoiled view of sculpted cheekbones and a jaw so razor sharp I wanted to run my finger on its perfect edge. I cleared my throat.
“Hi.”
He glanced over, hitting me with the piercing blue of his eyes just as he leaned in to hit the button to his floor.
“Hi.”
That voice. I could taste it. It was low and sexy, smoky but smooth, and it matched perfectly with the rest of his unreal gorgeousness. One flick of my gaze over his body and I could already see that he was long and lean, several inches over six feet tall with a solid, muscled build. Even under that tailored jacket, I made out the strength of his broad shoulders, the tapered V of his chest. He was power and sex wrapped in an Italian suit, and it had me picturing him in some shiny Manhattan office, conducting business as usual while getting sucked off under his desk.
Okay, Sara.
“So…” I chewed my lip, my heart pounding when he lifted his gaze to meet mine in the doors. “Were you…” sent from Heaven? Just kidding. “Were you there for the entirety of that conversation? Downstairs?” I topped my question off with a nervous little laugh that went unreturned.
Damn it. The statue was already bored with me. He was utterly expressionless, without so much as a twitch of emotion on those exquisite features. But just as embarrassment started flooding my cheeks, I spotted a little glint in his eye.
“No.” He took his time to reply. “Just long enough to hear about how hard you want to get fucked tonight.”
Oh.
My God.
“Right,” I started slowly, biting down hard on my lip. “In my defense, I just had a bit of a catastrophic day, and tomorrow’s probably going to be worse. So I’m giving myself basically the next ten hours to do whatever I want.”
“Ten hours.” He eyed me curiously. “That’s not a lot of time.”
I was as flustered as it got so I attempted a casual shrug.
“That’s okay. I’m a simple girl.”
My pulse heightened as I watched the sharp lines of his features move, forming the sexiest little frown between his brow. Was it…? It was. It was teasing me.
“I’m not so sure that’s the word I’d use to describe you.”
My pulse picked up but I played it off. “No? Why is that?”
“Simple implies easily explained.”
“Which I’m not?”
He hesitated for half a second then gave a laugh. It was a low, velvet sound that had me instantly addicted.
“No. I already have… more than a few questions about you.”
God, why did it feel like he was talking dirty to me? He offered few words but every one made me absurdly hot. Even his pauses turned me on. I couldn’t help but prod him for more.
“What kind of questions?” I asked, trying to downplay my feverish curiosity. “You don’t have to be shy. Like I said, it’s a fuck-it kind of night for me.”
He smirked. “You sure about what you’re saying?”
No. But from this point forward, I’m going to act like I am.
“Yes.”
“Then I guess I’m just wondering how a girl who looks like you has trouble getting someone to pin her down,” he eyed me, “and fuck her as hard as she wants. Pretty sure any straight man would be happy to sacrifice a headboard or two for that.”
&nb
sp; Oh Jesus.
It took everything in me to refrain from actually fanning myself. I had no idea how to respond to that. All I knew was that I had to get it together. I had only so much of an elevator ride left with this mystery man of few words, and I wasn’t going to leave it on him stunning me silent. It would be the greatest waste of serendipity known to man.
So tucking my hair behind my ear, I cleared my throat.
“What do… what do you mean someone who looks like me?” I finally asked.
“Don’t be coy. You know what I mean.”
I laughed. “I want to say I do, but I feel like I need to confirm, because this all feels very surreal right now.”
Crap. Was I supposed to admit this? Wasn’t I trying to play it cool? Whatever. Considering this guy’s level of hot, the fact that I was still breathing was nothing short of a miracle.
“Fine. I meant that you’re not just some average cute girl. You’re… ” He gave me that sexy laugh again as he watched the color rush to my cheeks. “Hot. Really fucking hot. The kind that makes men feel urgent.”
“Urgent how?”
He looked at me like I was being insolent. “Like they need to jerk or fuck the image of you out of their head. Does that paint a clear picture for you?”
I swallowed. “Fairly.”
“Any more questions?” he teased.
“Possibly,” I teased back.
“Like?”
I crossed my arms. “Would you consider yourself among those men?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“Considering I mentally fucked you in four different positions before you so much as laid eyes on me, I’d be inclined to say the answer is yes.”
