Beauty and the Boss

by MINK

  “Meow.” Mr. Grumpy Pants lets it be known that he’s ready to escape my giant purse. I didn’t want to alert anyone that I was bringing him into the office so I’d left his carrier at home and opted to carry him here in my purse. I’d spent part of last night reading over the company's handbook. There’s nothing in there about pets or animals. Nor did I find anything about them in the documents Mr. Baxter gave me. He also never actually told me no when I asked about bringing my cat to work, so I’m pretty much working within a loophole here.

  I’d stayed up way too late crafting a vest for Mr. Grumpy Pants that he actually seems to like. I was sure it was going to be a fight to get it on him, but he’s rocking it out. Not that I blame him. I used pink sparkly glitter to write out Therapy Cat on his cute little vest. He looks extra adorable and semi-professional at the same time.

  You’re doing this to needle your boss, my mind whispers.

  “Am not.” I would never do such a thing.

  “Am not what?” The person in the elevator next to me asks.

  “I’m sorry. I’m Georgia. I’d shake your hand but mine are full at the moment.” One hand has my bag with Mr. Grumpy Pants and the other is holding a bag filled with boxes of desserts I made. Yet another bag hangs from my arm. It’s full of things I want to put on my desk to liven it up.

  “I’m Kurt. Let me help you.” He’s in one of those fancy suits like everyone else around here. I’m guessing he works in the building somewhere.

  “That’s so nice of you.”

  He takes the containers of cookies from me. Mrs. Wilson killed the brownies I made for her. I finally found her weakness. One grumpy butt down and one to go. My face heats thinking about my own butt. I can still feel his touch there. I’d felt it all night. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I’d even emailed my best friend, July, about what happened. She works with Doctors Without Borders as a nurse, and it’s often hard to get into contact with her, but I knew she’d have some kind of advice for me. Likely a joke about my pussy.

  “You're on the top floor?” Kurt asks.

  “Yep. I’m Mr. Baxter’s new PA.” I smile at him and try to stay positive about my boss to everyone. It bothers me that most seemed to be turned off by him. I know what it feels like to be the oddball. I don’t want that for anyone.

  “That’s too bad.” He shakes his head. The elevator dings, and he gets off on my floor with me.

  “Why is that too bad?” Is it because he spanks his assistants? I can’t bring myself to ask that. Kurt follows me toward the break room.

  “He just goes through them rather quickly and you seem...” Again, like Sam the delivery guy, his eyes roam over me. “Sweet.”

  “Thanks.” I think.

  He laughs, setting down the containers for me.

  “Not sure that’s a good thing if you’re working for Mr. Baxter.”

  I open one of the boxes and offer him a cookie.

  “I can’t but they look yummy.” Again his eyes roam over me like he’s talking about me and not the cookies. He pats his hard stomach, and I’m certain there’s a six-pack beneath the fabric. “Trying to keep these abs.”

  “Kurt. Get off my fucking floor.” I jerk around to see Mr. Baxter standing in the doorway of the breakroom looking as handsome as ever. It’s early. I didn't expect him to be in. This isn’t when his schedule said he comes in. He must’ve changed things up, which may signal that I’m late. Normally, I’d be upset by this, but that throb between my legs seems to come back when I think about him disciplining me again.

  “Hope to see you around, Georgia. It was a pleasure meeting you,” Kurt says before he exits the break room. He doesn’t even address Mr. Baxter before he leaves. Silence hangs in the room for a few moments after Kurt's departure.

  I decide to break the ice. I paste on a big smile with the intention of offering him a cookie. Before I can open my mouth, the growl of a very mad but also very cute kitty comes from inside my purse.

  Mr. Baxter’s eyes search around the room, looking for the origin of the sound. His eyes land on me, and I pray that Mr. Grumpy Pants stays quiet until I get back to my desk. This is not how I wanted my boss to find out about Baxter International’s newest employee.

  “Cookie?” I offer.

  I push the box toward him while taking a step back. Apparently, Mr. Grumpy Pants falls into the same category as the rest of the people around here that don’t have a fondness towards Mr. Baxter.

  “Georgia.” He looks at the container of cookies. He doesn’t seem like a cookie person. I bet he loathes sprinkles. That helps cool some of these strange feelings I have toward him right now.

  “I thought I was sunshine now?” He called me that yesterday in his office. I’d thought about it last night when I was lying in bed, trying to fix the throb between my thighs. But for once, Mr. Grumpy Pants decided he wanted to sleep with me, which killed any frisky efforts on my part.

  “Do you just give your cookies to anyone, sunshine?”

  “Well, yeah. I think it’s a nice way to . . .”

  He picks up the cookie box, peers into the bag where the other cookies are, then takes it, too, before striding out of the break room. I’m left standing there. Did he just steal all the cookies?

  “Follow me, Georgia.”

  “Sunshine,” I correct him as I half run to try to keep up with him. Mr. Grumpy Pants lets out another loud meow. He doesn’t care for running. Whether it be him doing it himself or you carrying him and doing it. It’s a hard lazy limit for him.

  Mr. Baxter stops and I almost run right into him. “You have a cat in your bag, don't you?” He stares down at me. I have to tilt my head all the way back to look up at him. Now is probably not the time to tell him that some of those cookies are for Kristen. You can’t steal cookies from a pregnant woman. There’s probably a rule about it in the mile-long employee handbook.

  “Maybe.” I lick my bottom lip. Mr. Baxter’s eyes always go there when I do that. It’s a nervous habit I have. I wonder how he’s going to react to this. “I read the rule book and-“

  “Of course you did.” He looks down at my bag that is now moving all around. My normally lazy cat can’t be still for once!

  “Open the bag, Georgia.”

  “Sunshine,” I correct. Oh my God. What is wrong with me? I’m poking him on purpose.

  “Sunshine.” He does that growl thing that also does funny things to me. Then Mr. Grumpy Pants does one back. I fight to not laugh.

  “Open. It.”

  “Okay. You asked for it,” I warn as I open the bag to one extra grumpy Mr. Grumpy Pants.

  7

  Liam

  Voices filter through the door of happy employees cooing over the surly cat Georgia has set up in a little nest beside her desk. It’s been going on for hours, and I’m almost to the point where I want to fire everyone in the building and start over.

  My door opens, and I’m extra irritated to find Bradley striding in.

  “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He brushes some cat hair off his suit. “And the cat is not bad, either.”

  My hackles rise. “Don’t look at her.”

  “What?” He drops into his usual chair. “Since when can’t I ogle the ladies around the office?”

  “Since that one,” I almost yell.

  He raises his blond brows.

  “Because she’s part of a plan,” I hurry on. “I don’t want you screwing this up. We have to nail Duncan Lavine to the wall, and if you go and ruin the--”

  “I’m not ruining anything.” He bats the thought away with the back of his hand. “I just wanted to come by and see the cat everyone’s talking about. I can’t believe you let her bring that angry, furry thing to work. He growled at me when I walked up.” He laughs. “And he’s wearing this horrible glittery vest thing. I kind of pity the poor guy.”

  “I didn’t give her permission for the cat. It’s a subject I intend to discuss with her at lunch.”

  “You’re lunching
with her?” He stands and walks over to the box of cookies on my desk, then flicks open the lid. “Where’d these come from?”

  I reach over and smack his hand away. “Those are mine.”

  “Whoa.” He grins. “She made them, didn’t she? She made these cookies to share, and you, like the fucking Cookie Monster slash Grinch you are, kept them for yourself. Admit it.”

  “I can’t have her giving cookies to employees.” I sit back down and straighten my tie. “Could be an issue with the health department. She could have given them to that idiot from the mailroom, Jim.” I grit my teeth and am sorely tempted to pick up the phone and fire him. “He could be making his rounds and choke, and then where would we be? We can’t risk it.”

  “You are acting weird.” He leans against my desk and peers down at me. “Weirder than you’ve ever been, and you’re pretty fucking weird. No interest in women, no interest in drugs or booze, no interest in sweets--” He glances at the cookies again. “No interest in anything except money and power. But now, all of a sudden, you’re hoarding cookies and planning on taking your assistant to the charity gala?”

  “I’m not taking her as my assistant. She’s going as a direct insult to her father. Because she will be with me at all times, or I will fire her, then blacklist her.”

  “Does she know about all that?”

  “Of course not.” I always get the feeling that with Bradley, I’m playing chess while he’s pissing on the checkers board. “She has no idea about any of it.”

  “Did you even ask her to go with you to the gala?”

  “Why would I ask? I’ll tell her today at lunch, and she will do as she is told or she’ll face the consequences.” My hand tingles as I imagine her bent over my desk again, receiving her punishment for bringing that furry beast into my office.

  Brad laughs and backs away. “With that winning offer, how could she say no?”

  “Exactly.” I don’t know why he’s laughing. Of course she’ll agree. She has to. It’s part of her employment.

  “Later, psycho.” He opens the door. “And don’t forget we have a board meeting at three.”

  I don’t forget things. Bradley is the one who frequently shows up late with lipstick stains on his collar.

  The voices grow louder as Bradley leaves, and I hear a male voice. “I’d love to stroke your kitty.”

  I’m on my feet and out the door before I can take another breath. Kurt is back and kneeling down to pet the hairy monster as he looks up at my sunshine. “I wanted to see what you’re doing for lunch. We could go to the new sushi spot--”

  “I said to stick to your floor, Kurt.” I’ve never liked the man. But he’s an excellent marketing vice president, and I’d be hard-pressed to find another candidate with as many connections as his old-money family. All the same, he’s precariously close to getting shown out of the building by security.

  “I just wanted to stop by to be friendly.” He stands, his eyes going to my sunshine, who, true to her name, smiles warmly at him. Why is she smiling at other people? It’s ridiculous. Do other people pay her salary? No. I do. Do other people educate her with a strong hand? No. I do. Only me.

  “Get your ass back to fourteen. If I want you up here, I’ll summon you.”

  He whistles and holds his hands up. “Sorry, boss. I didn’t know you had rules about me visiting.”

  “You know now.” I step to him. Not close enough to invite a fist. Not that this ponce would ever raise a hand to me, even if he’d like to. I don’t work out every fucking morning at five o’clock to back down from a jumped up WASP in an overdone suit. “Take your leave unless you’re here to give me those marketing proposals that are due directly after the board meeting.”

  He shakes his head and turns. “Working on them now.” He fades down the hall.

  I wait until I hear the elevator open and close.

  Turning, I find Georgia gawking up at me.

  “When lunch arrives, come to my office. Leave that walking hairball”—I point to the black and gray tabby with the angry eyes and the chintzy vest—“out here. We have matters to discuss.”

  Is she wearing a bra? She has to be, but the way her nipples jut against her thin white sweater sends hot blood racing through me. They weren’t hard for that piece of shit Kurt. They’re only for me, and they need a good biting so she knows not to speak to the Kurts or the Bradleys of the world. Those men are users, filthy fuckers who only want one thing. Not like me. I help people. Just like I intend to help Georgia over lunch.

  “Order what you’d like. Make sure it’s here in half an hour.” I return to my office and pause inside the door. Her skirt seems short again today. I’m certain that’s a dress code violation. I add another mark to her punishment, another bit of discipline. Even though she’ll never have another job after this one, I intend to guide her in the right direction. She’ll be a good employee for me, at the very least. And, in the end, she’ll thank me for all my attention and care.

  I walk to my desk and sit to go through my many emails. One in particular catches my eye.

  You son of a bitch. Hiring my daughter? I knew you were a low-down bastard, but this really shits the bed. I’m not selling you Lavine Assets, no matter what you do. My daughter won’t sway me. So you can fuck off.

  Oh, and tell your mom I said hi, you piece of shit.

  Duncan

  I lean back and smile at the message. Duncan’s made his first move. A weak one, but a move all the same. With a few keystrokes, I bring up the charter for Lavine Assets, the corporate document that Duncan thought he had safe and sound in a dark server that no one would ever access. Too bad for him that my Finland hacker busted into it and stole the articles of incorporation written out by Duncan’s father.

  He thinks I’ve hired his daughter in a low-level tit for tat. What he doesn’t realize is that my little ray of sunshine is a thundercloud that will rain destruction down on his head. It’s only a matter of time.

  But first, my assistant needs to learn a lesson, and I’m just the man to teach her. I stand when I hear her greet the delivery man with a warm hello. I bet she’s smiling at him. A smile that should be mine. Perhaps she needs a lesson in that, as well.

  I rub my hands together and wait for her knock.

  8

  Georgia

  I cut a piece of Mr. Baxter’s steak into itty bitty pieces and place some of it on a small plate for Mr. Grumpy Pants, knowing that he’ll have to eat lunch all by himself. Janet offered to keep an eye on him while I go into my lunch meeting with Mr. Baxter.

  Everyone loved having Mr. Grumpy Pants in the office today. Even Kurt had come to see him, but Mr. Baxter made sure to come out of his office and scare the poor guy off. I can’t put a finger on Mr. Baxter’s behavior. Sometimes it seems as if he’s a little jealous, but I know that can’t be what it is. He’s probably more worried about me staying on task. It wasn't Kurt that was making it difficult to concentrate. It was Mr. Baxter. Every time I try and get my work done, my mind goes back to the spanking in his office. Was I in for another one? Had I brought Mr. Grumpy Pants with me to work knowing how it would turn out?

  “I’ll be back before you know it.” I give his soft head one more little pet before I arrange the remainder of Mr. Baxter’s lunch, as well as mine, and head toward his office. Excitement courses through me as I wonder what awaits me on the other side of the door. Will this be a professional lunch or one that leaves my butt stinging and between my legs throbbing once again? I need him to fix this. The spanking that I’m hoping for is only going to make it worse. I have no idea what to do.

  What I do know is that I've committed a number of infractions today, and I’m ready to pay for them. I know this is wrong, but I can’t help that I’m enjoying doing the wrong thing for once. It’s a small act of rebellion that’s exciting and new to me.

  I push open his office door, plant a smile on my face, and walk right in. “Lunch is here,” I chirp.

  “It took you long enough.
You don’t have to be so chatty with everyone. The delivery man doesn't need to know you speak French.” He snaps his eyes over at me from his computer screen. “That wasn't even on your resume.” He almost sounds mad that he doesn't know something about me.

  “Self-taught. I’m not the best at it but I manage. Tu es extra grincheux aujourd'hui,” I spout off with a smile. “I didn't minor in it in college so I wasn't sure if it was something I should put on my application.”

  “Did you just call me the grinch?” His jaw goes tight. I watch his hand that rests on the arms of his chair flex, and I wonder if he’s thinking about them disciplining me again.

  “No.” It’s not a lie. I merely said he was extra grumpy today. I’m still a little shocked that he hasn’t said more about Mr. Grumpy Pants being here. It’s likely because he’s so adorable. Not even Mr. Baxter can say anything negative about him.

  “Are we going to eat anytime soon?” He eyes the tray in my hands.

  I smile as I place our lunches on his desk. I push his toward him. I sit in the comfy chair across from him, grab my container, and open it. I lick my lips at the sight of lunch and prepare to dig in.

  “You cut my steak?” His voice is low, gritty.

  I look up from the array of desserts I’d ordered for my lunch. He told me to order what I wanted, so I went with the dessert sampler. He stole all the cookies this morning, and I need my sweet fix or I’m known to get a little on the sassy side.

  “Well, I might have given some to Mr. Grumpy Pants,” I admit. “I forgot to bring his lunch.” I watch as Mr. Baxter actually shows emotion for once. He’s shocked. His mouth even hangs open a little. “He smelled the meat and kept staring at it. I cut him off a few small pieces, and I thought that if I was cutting his up already that I could do the same for you. So you’re welcome?”