Aggie the Horrible vs. Max the Pompous Ass

by Lisa Wells

  “I blame them on his father.”

  “May he rest in peace,” they said in unison.

  “I’m a realist,” Father snapped. “If you want to get somewhere in this world, you surround yourself with people with shirttails you can ride. Not with people looking for handouts.”

  “How can you accuse Aggie of anything?” Hell, she had singlehandedly painted his offices. A task she could have easily hired out. That wasn’t a sign of someone looking for a handout. “You’ve never even met her.”

  “I—”

  “Hush. Both of you.” Grandmother’s voice cut through the tension like a judge calling for order in the court. “I didn’t invite you to dinner just to hear you attack each other.”

  “Sorry, Grandmother.” Max shot her an apologetic smile and sat down. If it wasn’t for her, he’d only see his father on the holidays, and maybe not then. She so longed for them to get along. For her sake, he’d strive to do better next time.

  “Son,” Grandmother said to Father. “Aggie can’t help it if her parents never married. Max is right. She’s a lovely child. Smart as a whip. Went to college on a full scholarship. It’s sweet of Max to give her a chance.”

  He hadn’t known Aggie went on a full scholarship. Interesting.

  “At least, she’s a college graduate.” Father picked up his fork and cut a pea. “What was her major?” He directed the question at Max.

  He quickly dismissed the idea of lying. He’d stopped caring about the man’s opinion the day his father sued for full custody of him and won. “Liberal arts.”

  “Of course that’s what it would be.”

  Max hated he’d had the same reaction when he found out Aggie’s major. He wanted to have nothing in common with Father. “There’s nothing wrong with a liberal arts degree. It makes her a well-rounded individual.”

  “Just remember she’s an employee. Treadwells don’t fuck the help.”

  He resisted an urge to slap his own hands on the table. Who in the hell did Father think he was fooling? According to Mother, he fucked the help every chance he got. Another reason to keep Aggie at arm’s length. He didn’t want to be like Father in any way. Other than successful. “Did I mention I have a meeting with Richard Harris on Monday?” Max hadn’t planned on telling his father about the meeting. It wasn’t like they were business confidants.

  “You sound very proud of yourself for doing something most would consider boorish manners.” Father raised his nose in the air like a proper snob. “You do know stealing clients from your own family is deemed low-class?”

  Max refused to feel guilty. “You said it’s every man for himself when I told you I was going into competition with your company.” The decision to be the asshole son happened after Father refused to hire him right out of college. He insisted Max learn the business elsewhere and then come to work for him when he had experience the company could benefit from. Father delighted in the fact he hired no one straight out of college. Not even his heir. “Some would say I’m a chip off the old block,” Max added.

  Father’s nose came down, and he gave a calculated chuckle. “Our bet on if you will…or will not…net a million before you turn thirty-one must be eating at you if you’re willing to steal from my list of clients to achieve it.”

  It had been a while since either of them mentioned the bet. “I’m not stealing anything. Mr. Harris came to me. He requested our first meeting.” Max refrained from ruining Grandmother’s lovely dinner by telling Father his oldest client had jumped ship long ago. Max and Richard’s upcoming meeting wasn’t their first.

  “Just remember, if you don’t make your first million by your thirty-first birthday, we have a deal.”

  “That deal is nonsense,” Grandmother said. “I demand both of you agree to drop it right this moment.”

  “Mother, a bet’s a bet. Right, son?”

  Max nodded. All the more reason he had to win the O’Reilly bid. “Don’t worry, Grandmother. According to my accountant, I’m almost there.” Not exactly a lie, but not exactly the truth.

  “For your sake, I hope you are,” Father said in a mock-fatherly tone. “Your birthday is in only a couple of months.”

  Chapter Ten

  Monday morning, Aggie purposefully arrived at work before Max. Getting up early hadn’t even been torture. She actually awoke before her alarm. That never happened. She was more like a three-snooze-buttons kind of gal.

  Now, while waiting for Max, butterflies were unexpectedly dancing in her stomach. Like they used to on Christmas mornings while she waited for Meemaw to open the gift she’d handmade for her. Handmade, because their budget didn’t allow for store-bought gifts. Aggie always worked extra hard to make sure what she made was special, because it would be the only gift Meemaw would receive. Her favorite gift from Aggie had been a small wrapped box with a handwritten note saying it was full of kisses and hugs. The tiny box still sat on her bedside table.

  Now, she couldn’t wait to see Max’s face when he laid eyes on his newly redecorated office.

  When she couldn’t find anything else to adjust—every pillow had been fluffed to perfection, every picture straightened, and both desks arranged with eye-catching arrays of office supplies—she forced herself to stand still and take in her creation. Was this how the creator of the world felt when preparing to show the first human what he’d done?

  Aggie double checked her appearance in the mirror she’d bought for her desk. Whereas on Thursday, she’d looked anything but the professional Max wanted working for him, this morning she oozed flawlessness. Her hair smoothed into a bun, her suit a chic black with a gentleman’s white shirt underneath. The skirt of her suit hit below her knees. She’d even worn pantyhose. He would find nothing to ridicule.

  A knock at the door stalled her inspection. “Coming.” She hurried into the front office and opened the door. “Welcome,” she said to her boss. Her nose twitched. He’d changed his cologne. Something a tad sexier. Why?

  “Thank you.” He handed her the sticky note she’d placed on the outside of the door directing him to knock before entering. “You’re looking lovely today.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and her insides went all wonky. And all that wonkiness caused her to want to simultaneously smile and cry? Since when did a flattery make her emotional? “Aren’t you a peach for saying that.”

  “Why did I have to knock to come into my offices?”

  The smile she’d been trying to contain under a facade of sophistication broke free. “Follow me. I have something to show you.” She forced her black kitten-heels to carry her at a normal pace to his office door. “Close your eyes.”

  Surprisingly, he obeyed.

  She twisted the knob and pushed the door open. She stepped through first and did a quick overview.

  His raised desk, the white couch, the alternative seating chairs, the paintings on the walls by a local artist. All were ready for admiration.

  “Open your eyes and enter your new office.”

  He did. His face remained impassive as he slowly glanced around.

  “What do you think? Do you love it?” She glanced at her creation. “Better than you could have ever imagined? Magnificent, right?” She glanced back at him and her happy rambling stumbled.

  His face had changed. Not in a good way. It was as if a bucket of ice water had just been tossed on him in the middle of an ice storm.

  The dancing butterflies in her stomach fled the dance floor. He didn’t like it.

  “I don’t see my rocks.” His tone was low, with a heavy thread of something she couldn’t decipher. Not anger but something heavy. Something worse than anger.

  “They are safely tucked away,” she quickly assured him.

  He closed his eyes. Mumbled something. Then his eyes opened. “Tucked where?”

  She stepped away from him to give herself a beat while
a breath forced its way past the lump forming in her throat. This was not how she’d imagined this morning’s unveiling would go. “They’re in the storage closet across the hall.”

  Max strode to the storage room. She followed. Didn’t he believe her?

  He twisted the handle, but it didn’t open. “The key,” he said through what sounded like gritted teeth. “Please.”

  She hurried into their office and grabbed it off her desk. She thrust the key at him. “What’s so special about the rocks?”

  “They were a gift from a friend.” He opened the door and stepped inside. The room was empty.

  Sweat broke out on Aggie’s upper lip. Shit. This wasn’t good. “Ummmm. The janitor must have accidentally grabbed them along with all the things I told him to repurpose. I promise, I had them sitting way aside in a different box labeled…well, not labeled someone’s soon-to-be treasure.”

  Max whirled and glued her to the spot with a gaze that hinted at a pending storm. “Find them.”

  She laughed. More from nerves than actual humor. “And if I can’t?”

  “I have every faith you’ll find a way to recover my rocks,” he said quietly. But the impact on her insides was the same as if he had shouted the words. Her body was currently considering flight or fright. Flight would mean quitting.

  She inhaled. Nope. Not happening. She was going to fight, and the best way to fight was to treat the problem like it wasn’t a big deal. This was a small issue that could be easily rectified. The janitor would know where she could find his precious rocks. She stood up straight, giving another inch to the inch her heels gave her. This wasn’t a quitting moment.

  “You’re right. I will. But first, if it’s not too much trouble, can we go back over to our office, and you actually take the time to see that I worked my ass off to give you an office with a butt-load of cool-factor?”

  He yanked at his shirt sleeves, showing off gold cuff links. “I’m sure you did, and we’ll discuss it just as soon as you recover my rocks.”

  “And if I can’t locate them?”

  His eyebrows lowered and pinched together. “I’ll have no choice but to fire you.” Without waiting for her response to that kick-in-the-teeth threat, he strode back to his office. To his desk.

  You’ll what? This is not how this morning was supposed to shake out.

  She trailed him. “Damn it, Max, I got up two hours early to surprise you with all I’ve done. You can’t fire me over something I worked so hard to do…for you. And, must I remind you, you have a big client this morning. You need me here to answer the phone.”

  Max stared so intently Aggie swore she heard crashes of thunder coming out of his ears and saw lightning spit from his eyes. “Had you left them alone like I told you, he would have never gotten his hands on them.”

  She swallowed her pride. It meandered going down and, when it finally landed, soured her churning stomach. She should just grab her purse and leave. Only she’d promised Meemaw and herself she’d stay employed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I’ll do everything within my power to find your rocks, but if I don’t, you can’t fire me over it, and I’ll tell you why.”

  “I’m listening. Please do explain why I can’t fire you.”

  “Because I am part of the birthday gift you gave Ms. Grace for her birthday. Who knows how many more birthdays she’ll celebrate?”

  He paled. “Don’t say something like that.” He knocked on the wood of his desk. “It tempts the Universe.”

  She laughed. “Do you mean to tell me the Great Maxi Treadwell is superstitious?”

  Her humor seemed to knock something loose in him, and he exhaled hard. “Are you always such a smart-ass?”

  Why yes. Yes, she was. “Around some people more than others.” An image of Meemaw standing in the room listening to this conversation popped into Aggie’s brain. Ugh. She hated when that happened. Meemaw would not approve of the way Aggie was handling herself. “Tell me about the friend who gave you the rocks.”

  His shoulders slumped. “She…” His words trailed off, but his gaze didn’t waver.

  “She?” Aggie echoed. “Is that what this temper-tantrum has been about? Are you all in a tizzy because your current girlfriend gave you those rocks? Someone you’re in love with. Does Ms. Grace even know about her?”

  Max raked a hand through his hair. “How in the hell does that matter?”

  All of her calm blew into a tornado. “Because Ms. Grace has been encouraging Meemaw to fix me up with you since they met.”

  For months, Ms. Grace had been giving Meemaw false hope Aggie might marry up in society. That Max was unlike other high-society boys. That he actually liked a person based on their personality, not their bank account. That he wouldn’t loathe falling in love with someone like Aggie.

  Granted, the odds of that happening were slim to bankrupt. But Meemaw was what most would call a gambler riding the highs of a year-long lucky streak. One in which she won a Mustang convertible in a poker game.

  Meemaw’s wants were few, but at the top of her list was to see Aggie break the cycle of unwed mothers in the Johansson women and to marry a good man.

  “Grandmother knows.”

  “Then why is she trying to fix you up with someone like me?”

  “Like you?” His eyebrows raised.

  No way would she spell it out. “Out of your league.”

  The joke didn’t register on his face. “The friend who gave me the rocks is dead.”

  The attitude whooshed out of her. “Damn it, Max, you could have freaking led with that.”

  His phone buzzed.

  While he spoke into the phone, Aggie attempted some clear-headed soul searching. Max hadn’t corrected her when she said someone like me. And didn’t laugh when she said out of his league. Then again, his girlfriend was dead, so she really should get over herself. At least, she was breathing.

  Max clicked off his call and turned to her. “My client is downstairs. Please meet him and bring him up.” He pulled a list out of his suit jacket and handed it to her. “If you’re not getting fired today, the least you can do is complete this to-do list for me. And, please, try to complete the list without ripping my soul from my body again.”

  Was that what losing the rocks felt like to him? A soul wrenching. No one had ever stolen her soul. “I thought you wanted me to find your rocks?” Max loved a dead girl. He’d earned the right to be stiff over some damn rocks.

  “I’ll search for them myself.”

  Aggie didn’t argue with him. On the bright side, once she updated Meemaw on Max’s heart situation, she’d stop thinking she and Max were perfect for one another. “What’s his name?”

  “Whose name?”

  “The client downstairs.”

  “Richard Harris.”

  She sucked in her cheeks. Rocks and souls and dead girlfriends forgotten. “You’re kidding. Richard Harris? As in Missouri’s wealthiest bachelor. Richard Harris, who is in the top ten on the Forbes list of wealthiest individuals for this year? That Richard Harris?” He’d been a topic of conversation on more than one occasion between her and Meemaw.

  Max sighed. “Is having you meet him going to present a problem?”

  She clasped her hands behind her back and managed not to bounce from heel to heel. “Why would meeting the Richard Harris be a problem?” She’d never met a billionaire. Never had the chance to pick the brain of a billionaire. And Richard Harris wasn’t just a billionaire. He was a self-made billionaire. His youth had been as dismal as Meemaw’s. If he could pull himself out of the stigma of being from the wrong side of town, anyone could. Even Agnes Johansson.

  “You’re not planning on asking him for an autograph or something idiotic, are you?”

  Her hands flew apart and landed on her hips.
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with asking for an autograph from someone you admire.” She might ask him to have coffee with her and Meemaw. That would be like the best gift ever in Meemaw’s eyes. “But no. I’m not planning on asking him to sign a piece of paper or my left boob.”

  Max ran a hand down the side of his face, and his eyes flickered to her cleavage. Her nipples immediately tightened. She hoped like hell he couldn’t see her lit-up headlights.

  “Why do I feel I’ve asked the wrong question?”

  “There’s nothing in my contract that says I can’t date one of our customers, is there?” Since Max thought her moral compass didn’t work, and he’d ruined her big reveal, he deserved to squirm.

  “He’s old enough to be your grandfather.”

  Which made him the perfect age for Meemaw. Hmmmm. Who said grandmothers were the only ones who could try and fix someone they loved up with another? “Haven’t you heard men like him only date women my age?” She unbuttoned the top button of her shirt. “And really, I may be too old. When you’re scandalously rich, arm candy is expected.” She swept out of the office with her head held high and her ass swaying to the rhythm of “Red High Heels” as she sung its lyrics under her breath.

  …

  Aggie sashayed out of Max’s office like she’d not only just won the battle but also the war. And, damn it, she had. Temporarily. He didn’t have time to figure her out or analyze how his body reacted to her every word as if she were flirting. Right now, he needed to wrap his head around the deal with Mr. Harris, not around Aggie the Horrible. Or his missing rocks.

  Three minutes later, while he was trying to lower his damn desk, Aggie burst in without knocking, Mr. Harris standing next to her.

  “Mr. Treadwell,” she said, “I found this good-looking gentleman in the downstairs lobby, and he said he knows you.”

  “Considering I sent you down to fetch him,” he said, “I’m amused you sound surprised he was there.”

  Her eyes narrowed. What game was she playing? “He says he has an appointment with you.”