Taming Her Boss

by C. M. Stunich

  “Maxi,” I whine, slapping myself in the forehead with the heel of my hand. “I can't get the sight of him jacking off to me out of my head.”

  “Hey, Lex is a beautiful man. I don't blame you for that. Keep the memory close and keep the real thing far, far away.” She pauses and takes a sip of her wine, picking at the carpet fibers with her pale pink nails. “Though I am going to miss you like crazy at the office. Who the hell am I going to eat crappy Asian takeout with? Everybody else in the accounting department is gluten-free and obsessed with quinoa.” We exchange pouty expressions and then lean over for a wine drenched hug. When I pull back, there's a shimmer of tears in Maxi's eyes.

  “Hey. It's time to forget this whole fucking fiasco and just focus on the positive. We've got to start talking about my next career move, or this whole evening's going to fail the Bechdel test.”

  “The Bechdel test?” Maxi asks as I lean back and look up at the ceiling with a sigh. Taking revenge on Lex and his domineering alpha male ass sure would be nice, but it won't do anything for me. Maybe I should consider this entire incident a blessing? It wasn't like I actually enjoyed working for Lyndon Realty Trust. I mean, I have a freaking master of fine arts degree. The only reason I even got hired by the Lyndons was because Maxi referred me to them. Let's just say, my heart is not in real estate investments.

  “Yeah, you know, does the work of fiction you're enjoying have at least two named female characters? Do they talk to each other? And do they talk to each other about something other than men?” I drop my gaze down to Maxi with a wink and a smile.

  “The more you know,” she says, raising her glass. After a moment of hesitation, I lift the wine bottle up and click it against hers. “But still, nobody could rightfully blame us for failing the Bechdel test in this case. How often does one's billionaire boss offer up a contract that pays them to effectively beat his ass in the bedroom?”

  “Not often, I'd guess,” I say, finishing off the last few drops of my wine. I kiss the label of the empty bottle, a 2011 Altamura Cabernet Sauvignon that I've been saving for a special occasion. Getting fired from a job that pays six figures practically requires a hundred dollar bottle of wine – especially considering the circumstances. “It still feels so surreal, you know?” I glance over at the couch and spot the crumpled business card that Lex so kindly tucked between my cheeks on Friday night. I can't even freaking believe I almost slept with that asshole. What a mistake that would've been.

  “Were you tempted?” Maxi asks, leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially, despite the fact that we're alone in the townhouse. With the light outside the window dimming and the living room falling into darkness, it almost feels like we're sharing secrets at a slumber party. Her pale green eyes sparkle as she rakes her fingers through her blonde hair and leans in close. “I mean, just a little bit?”

  The urge to vehemently rail against her implied accusations rises in me, but I bite back the lie. What's the point? Sitting here in the hushed dark, it doesn't seem like such a big deal to admit the truth, even if the very thought makes me grit my teeth in anger. I glance away and stare at the white baseboards that line the wall.

  “Lex is hot. He wanted me to beat the crap out of him. He wanted to pay me millions of dollars for the privilege. Of course I was tempted.”

  “Then why not just go for it?”

  I turn back to Maxi with a slow smile spreading across my face. Despite the fact that I was fired today, I feel like I obtained some sort of little victory over Lex's spoiled ass.

  “Pride,” I tell Maxi as I lean back and stretch my legs out in front of me. “And dignity. Two things that I have that Lex can no longer lay claim to. And no matter what happens, he can't take either of those things away from me.”

  The next morning, I wake up at a disturbingly late hour – and it feels fucking great. I stretch my arms toward the ceiling and sigh in contented pleasure. I can't even remember the last time I was able to sleep in past nine. Even on weekends, I have recurring Saturday breakfast meetings with my family (followed, of course, by communal trips to the farmers' market to buy organic produce) and Sundays full of errands and halfhearted workout attempts. Today, Tuesday, there's nothing laid out for me. Well, other than trying to find a new job before my savings run out. What would it be like to have millions in the bank? To never have to work another day in my life? I could pay my parents' house off, get Craig a pad of his own to share with his coterie of freethinking lovers, travel the world.

  “Ugh,” I grab a pillow and clutch it tight to my face. Entertaining fantasies like that will get me nowhere. I'd rather commit hara-kiri than sign that fucking contract for Lex. If you're not aware of the practice, it's basically suicide via disembowelment. Sounds fun, right? Even for a couple hundred million bucks, I am nobody's whore. Sorry, Lex. There should be women lining up around the block for this position, so why did he choose me? That, I suppose, will have to remain a mystery. If I can help it, I'll never speak to the man again.

  I toss the pillow aside and fling the covers back, wrenching the curtains open and smiling as I take in yet another gray, fog-drenched day (and a man walking down the street in ass-less chaps). Hey, people, this is San Francisco. If you can't appreciate the fog rolling in off the bay (or men in ass-less chaps), move somewhere else.

  Despite the desperate urge I have to curl up on the couch with a crime thriller novel and read away the day, I force myself into the shower. Whilst entrenched in soapy, warm wetness, I may or may not touch a finger or two to the sorely neglected spot between my legs. If I think of furiously riding Lex Lyndon while I do it, nobody has to be the wiser.

  When I climb out, I dress in a comfortable pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that says Alpha Female, enjoying the feeling of cotton and old denim against my skin. God, I hate suits. I was definitely born more suited to be a penniless artist than a middle class corporate goon. Oh well. Maybe if I play my cards right, I'll never have to wear a suit again? I might have to move in with the moms, but hey, at least they have a place in Balboa Terrace. I could lounge on their deck and mess around with oil and canvas with sunshine kissing the bare skin of my legs through the holes in my ugliest pair of jeans.

  I smile as I run my fingers through my wet hair and descend the stairs into the dining room. A quick check of my cell shows a missed call from an unknown number. Right away, I suspect Lex, narrowing my eyes at the screen as I pull up my voice mail.

  Only it's not Lex.

  It's a woman claiming to be the secretary for the head of HR at Oceanstar Capital Group. Somehow, word of my departure from Lyndon Realty Trust has reached her boss' ears, and she'd like me to come interview for a position within their company. The entire situation smacks of Maxi's handiwork. I end the message and immediately dial up my best friend, using her office line to ensure I get through.

  “Don't be mad,” she tells me, answering the phone without even a simple hello. “You're calling because you talked to Oceanstar, right? Please tell me you talked to Oceanstar. I've been offered positions there before, but I've always turned them down because I liked hanging out with you at the office. Since you're not here anymore, I figured I'd make a few calls.”

  “Maxi,” I say, but she's not done yet.

  “I told them I was willing to transfer, but on one condition: I take you with me. The interview's just a formality, Oli. If you want the job, it's yours.”

  “Maxi.” Another interruption.

  “Don't think you have to do this just for me though. Think it through, give the idea some time to simmer. I mean, it's not like I don't thoroughly enjoy watching Lex storm around the office in a purple faced rage, but it can be kind of disconcerting. At least when he screams at me, he doesn't spray me with spittle like his father used to do. Gross.” So the boss is in a rage, huh? Not unusual for him, but I can't stop myself from smiling anyway. I wonder what his problem is today? Couldn't have anything to do with little old me, could it? I can't stop my mind from summoning the image of him wi
th his fingers wrapped tight around his massive cock, the way my name slipped out from between his lips. Lex Lyndon is so fucking into me. I smirk.

  Stupid asshole.

  I realize absently that while I'm fantasizing about my ex-boss' horse dick, Maxi's still talking up a storm in the background.

  “Maxi,” I start again, but she's in one of her moods where she won't stop talking because she's afraid to hear what the person she's talking to is trying to say.

  “Oceanstar Capital Group is a direct competitor of Lyndon Realty Trust.” This much I do know. Despite what Lex might think of me, I am very proficient at my job. Or I was. I frown. “Oh, and Lex's father and grandfather have been courting the Caliper family for years. If they could get Lex and Lara together, it would be like uniting two major kingdoms during a medieval war. Barbaric, right? But it's true.” I wrinkle my brow and try to decipher Maxi's babbling.

  “Lara?” I ask, feeling like I should recognize that name. Maxi sighs.

  “Lara Caliper. Dear Jesus, Olivia, please tell me you know that name. Voted Fortune's Most Powerful Woman in Business three years running.”

  Oh. That Lara Caliper. Current CEO of Oceanstar Capital.

  “But I thought Lex didn't have any romantic prospects?” I hate the strange little thrill that runs through my veins. If I didn't know any better, I might say I was jealous. Gross. Fuck, if Lara wants Lex, she can have him and his nasty attitude.

  Maxi snorts at me.

  “He didn't until the two of you started up your romantic attachment to one another on Friday. I don't think he has any intention of marrying Lara, but wouldn't it be cool to work for his direct competitor? A family the Lyndons have been trying to absorb into their fold for years?”

  “Lex and I do not have a romantic attachment, Maxi.”

  “Not after everything he's done, no, but there was the possibility of one.”

  “Maxi.” She still refuses to listen to me, changing the subject back to my potential job interview.

  “Please don't say no, Oli. I know you want to, that you'd probably be happier painting impressionistic cottages or something, but I really want to pay off my condo, and you should really pay off your townhouse, so just for now can be we be yuppie assholes and save the artistic dalliances for later?”

  She takes in a massive breath and waits patiently for me to respond.

  “Are you done now?” I ask quietly.

  “Think so.” Maxi pauses as I stand in the center of my dining room, staring at a stack of bills on the edge of my table. I could sell the townhouse, shred the bills, and use my savings to buy a modest two bed, one bath in a small town somewhere in the Midwest. I could try writing that crime thriller I've always wanted to pen, put my MFA to good use. But that would feel too much like running away. At least for now, for today, I think I will do that interview – even if it means having to wear another suit. It doesn't mean I have to take the job and anyway, what's the worst that could happen? “So, you'll do it?”

  I pause and look up at the ceiling for a moment. I wonder what Lex's competitor would say if she knew about the contract he offered me? It could ruin him.

  I smile.

  If I interview with Oceanstar on Maxi's word, it won't matter that Lex is unlikely to give me a stellar recommendation. Besides, it'd be nice to have a woman in charge of the office. She can't be any worse than Lex Lyndon.

  “Okay,” I tell Maxi as she squeals and then coughs, pretending to ask me something about a tax form. I wonder if even now Lex is standing over her shoulder with his eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring, a bright orange tie wrapped around his neck and a scowl on those perfect lips. “Why the hell not?” Maxi thanks me profusely and hangs up before I get a chance to say good bye, further reconfirming that the dragon must be hovering outside of his cave.

  I pull my cell away from my ear and grab the number for Oceanstar from my missed calls list. As I'm waiting for someone to answer, I can't get a certain phrase out of my mind: politics makes strange bedfellows.

  “You did what?!”

  I stand still, blinking against the rage exploding from my father's throat. I try to stay calm in the face of humiliation, but I can't help but notice that the entire office has walked by my open doors in the last five minutes. Every employee from the head of the accounting department to the janitor seems to have found some legitimate reason to pass by my office.

  “I'll have you recall that I am the current CEO of Lyndon Realty Trust,” I say as calmly as I'm able. I wrinkle my nose at the spit flying from my father's mouth. Behind him, my grandfather stands with his hands clasped in front of him. Today's board meeting did not go well, not at all. And now, apparently, two days after Olivia Ashcraft walked out of my life, I'm having trouble convincing my father that I fired her for the right reasons. I couldn't exactly tell him the truth, now could I? “If I feel an employee isn't living up to the standards set forth – ”

  “You'll get her back,” my dad says, pointing his finger at my chest. His silver eyes are flashing angrily, and his hand is trembling. I look to the side and grit my teeth. I don't like being told what to do – especially not at the age of thirty-four. It's insulting. “You'll get her back and undo at least one of the mistakes you've managed to make this week.”

  “Electing not to go on a date with a woman doesn't necessarily qualify as a mistake,” I grind out, curling my fingers into fists. Despite their influence over the board, my father and grandfather do not control me, no matter how much they'd like to think they do. I don't need this job; I got access to my trust fund a long, long time ago. I have more money than God.

  “Lara Caliper is not a woman, Lex,” my grandfather says, in a much calmer, much less spittle flecked voice. I raise my brow and step away from my father, unbuttoning my suit jacket as I move around my desk and sit in my office chair. The very same office chair that I've been using to touch myself, to fantasize about Olivia in. Ridiculous woman. Good riddance to her and her despicable attitude. But that hair? Those lips? The curve of her waist?

  “Could've fooled me,” I say, thinking of the curvy brunette. Lara Caliper is a wolf in sheep's clothing. Three years older than me, CEO of Oceanstar Capital Group. My family's been trying to marry into hers for decades, but it's never worked out. It's not going to work out now. I'd rather leap from my office window than marry – or even date – Lara Caliper. She'd do anything to get her hands on Lyndon Realty Trust, even marry me. In polite company, Lara and I get along famously. She acts exactly like all those women I hate – fawning over me, batting her eyelashes – but I don't trust her for a second.

  “What I meant was,” my grandfather says, holding up a hand to keep my father from butting into the conversation, “she's no ordinary woman, Lex. This isn't about just getting your poor father here some grandchildren.” I tap my fingers on the desk and pray that they'll get out of my office and leave me alone sooner rather than later. Oh, and forget about Olivia Ashcraft all together. My father can scream and yell all he wants, I'd rather lose my position as CEO than go crawling back to Olivia to give her her job back. “Marrying Lara could open up all sorts of doors for both the company as well as yourself.”

  “I'll consider it,” I say, watching as my father shakes his head and moves towards the doors.

  “While you're at it, consider getting Olivia Ashcraft back. That girl was a genius. She had the magic touch. Never lost a cent on any of the properties she purchased. Remember, you're here to make your investors – including me – money, not to dick around.” I scowl at my dad's back as he retreats towards the elevators, my grandfather in tow.

  “Fuck.”

  I glance down at the locked drawer of my desk, the one with the briefcase in it. With the contract in it. When I look up, Claudia's staring at me from outside my office door, brown Bambi eyes wide and questioning.

  “Set me up a meeting with Lara,” I snap at her. Maybe if I take the woman out for dinner, my family will get off my back? I'd rather concede to them than Oli
via. If she wants her job back, she'll have to come to me and beg for it.

  Hell would freeze over before that ever happened.

  I try not to smile when I think that.

  >I've asked Lara to meet up at her office before our dinner meeting, if only because I can. I'm certainly not allowing the enemy into my territory, but she seems to have no problem with it. Not that I expect to learn any trade secrets strolling through the plain white halls of her office building, but I like the idea that I'm in the lion's den – invited into it, even.

  I'm moving quickly past darkened office windows, most of the employees having gone home for the day, when a door opens in front of me and I end up bumping into a woman with hair as red as flames. The second our bodies brush against one another, I smell her perfume, and I know exactly who it is I'm dealing with.

  “Miss Ashcraft?” I ask as she takes a step back and looks up at me with her mouth hanging open. Neither of us apologizes for crashing into one another; neither of us will admit fault in the move. “What on earth are you doing here?” I feel my jaw clench and the vein in my forehead start to throb. Olivia stares at me in shock for a moment before her lips curl up into a smirk.

  “Why, Mr. Lyndon, fancy seeing you here,” Olivia says, the skin around her eyes crinkling with mirth. She's enjoying this interaction. I, on the other hand, feel like a bear who's just discovered his rival with his paw in the honey jar. Or in this case, should I say her paw. “I was just signing my new employment contract.” Olivia whistles and runs her fingers through that perfect hair of hers, drawing my eyes along with the gesture. “You didn't think I was going to sit around and eat ice cream for days after you fired me, did you, Lex?” I feel my lips purse into a narrow line. “And I must say, the offer I've just received includes more than generous compensation for my previous experience at Lyndon Realty Trust.” Olivia meets my gaze for a moment and then tries to squeeze past me in the narrow hallway.

  I move to block her path, and she raises an eyebrow at me, taking in my suit and my bright green tie with a critical eye. I stay where I am, certain that there's some conspiracy at play inside these walls. Is it just a coincidence that I'm running into Olivia here? Or did Lara set this up?