Ego Trip: A Cocky Boss Romantic Comedy

by Tabatha Kiss

  “Thank you, sir. Yes, but I had some help, of course.” She exhales to show she’s tired, but still fully committed to doing her best. “I’m always happy to assist. You know that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  She holds up the open bag. “Campaign button?” she offers.

  Kingston reaches inside. “Don’t mind if I do,” he says as he takes two; one he slips into his pocket, the other he clips onto his lapel.

  She pivots in my direction next, looking stiffly at me with a helpful smile. I grab a button for myself and turn it over in my fingers to read the logo.

  Fiona 2022.

  The future is gold.

  “Thank you,” I say to her.

  She murmurs a quiet pleasantry before moving on toward the next batch of possible voters lingering in the back.

  “So, Graham tells me you’re going on the road tomorrow for the first time,” Kingston says once she’s gone.

  I tear my gaze away from Paige. “Yes, sir,” I answer.

  “Company Liaison is a big job,” he says, looking me right in the eye. “An important job.”

  I try not to appear as nervous as I am. “Yes, sir,” I repeat.

  “You’ll do fine.” He gives me a nod of reassurance. “You know the work. Just follow the manual and stick to your gut for everything else.”

  “I will,” I say, relaxing a bit. “Thank you again, sir. For the opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

  “I wouldn’t have promoted you if I thought you would.”

  “Any other advice?” I ask. “You were CEO for a decade and change. You’ve got to have something for me that Graham didn’t.”

  Kingston bites his cheek, his eyes once again straying to the woman in the center of the stage. “Find a woman whose dreams matter more to you than your own,” he says.

  I cant my head. “Well, I sort of meant work-related advice...”

  “It is,” he says, turning off the wall to face me. “Money. Power. Ambition. None of it means a single damn thing without someone to share it with you. All the money in the world can’t make you happy, Oli. The love of a good woman can, and the only way to win the heart of a good woman is by being a good man. Don’t forget that.”

  I nod politely. Not exactly what I was I looking for, but I guess I’ll take it.

  “I’ll remember,” I say.

  Kingston admires me with fatherly eyes. It feels nice, truthfully. He’s always been a father figure to me. Fiona, a mother. The Botsfords, brothers that I’d be nowhere without.

  “I’m proud of you, Oli,” he says. “You’ve come a long way.”

  I bow my head. “Thank you, Kingston.”

  He takes a step back and pats the button on his jacket. “Don’t forget to vote this year,” he says with a wink.

  I hold up my button. “Wouldn’t miss it,” I say.

  Kingston offers a wave and disappears into the adoring crowd. I settle onto the wall again and quietly glance around as the event continues. The excitement in the air is practically contagious. Even I feel a few butterflies in my chest tonight.

  Or are they for tomorrow?

  I scan for Paige again. Her path through the crowd ended where it began by the stage. She now hovers in Graham’s shadow with her clipboard in hand, just like always. A strand of her blonde hair has escaped her tight ponytail and hangs down to scratch the lens of her glasses. A single mark of imperfection in an otherwise perfect package that’s only grown more enticing in the four years since I ripped it open and claimed it for my own.

  That’s where it ended. Before it ever began. Just one night. She was lonely, and I was… there.

  So, why is she acting so fucking weird?

  I reach for my phone in my pocket as another spike of applause travels through the room. Judging by the wave of feminine swoons rising with it, I can only guess Fiona pulled one of her more famous sons on stage with her.

  I swipe open my email app and smile at the new, unread message from Angela.

  Thanks for the head’s up on the audit, Mr. Big Shot. I’ll keep the place extra messy for you. ;)

  I roll my eyes before scrolling down to tomorrow’s flight confirmation. I quickly forward it to Paige as I promised her I would earlier, along with a note.

  I’ll pick you up at 7. How do you like your coffee?

  I find her again by the stage as she turns her hand up to read her phone. After a few lightning fast taps, my phone flashes with a notification.

  Thanks, but I have a few errands to run in the morning. I’ll meet you at the airport. -P

  I bite my cheek. Well, that’s disappointing.

  I’d hoped to have the chance to air out this laundry beforehand, but it appears she’s keen on avoiding me for as long as she can.

  She can’t hide forever, though.

  Chapter 4

  Paige

  four years ago . . .

  Two knocks tap at my door.

  My pulse skips with them, pumping nervous excitement throughout my veins. I give my room one more glance-over for imperfections — just plain habit at this point in my career as Graham’s assistant. King-sized bed, perfectly tucked in. Two chairs nestled in place at a coffee table by the window overlooking the Las Vegas Strip. Bedside lamps off, though — maybe I should turn one on to help set the mood…

  I give it a flick, and it illuminates the dark corner.

  Perfect, I say to myself.

  I shuffle toward the door, checking myself in the mirror as I go. I haven’t changed a thing since I left the bar downstairs, but something feels different. Blonde hair. Big eyes behind blue-rimmed glasses. It’s casual, cool. Just like me… sometimes.

  I take one more breath before exhaling hard and opening the door.

  Oliver.

  He looks me over as that token smirk crawls up his cheek.

  “Hey,” I greet.

  “Hello,” he says.

  I swallow as I step to the side. “Come on in.”

  He doesn’t move. “Are you sure you want me to come in?” he asks.

  It’s a playful tone, one I very much appreciate in the moment. He’s giving me a chance to change my mind; to tell him to get lost and lure some other girl to bed with those icy blue eyes.

  But I won’t.

  “Yes,” I answer, smiling.

  “Are you sure sure?”

  I chuckle. “I’m sure.”

  “Okay,” he says.

  Oliver steps forward, passing me with a few long strides. I grab the DO NOT DISTURB sign off the inner handle and hang it on the outer knob before closing the door and locking it with a firm click.

  I turn around and halt, nearly colliding with Oliver’s broad shoulders. He stands there, towering over me with hunger in his eyes. It’s warm and inviting, contagious enough to awaken the butterflies in my stomach.

  “Would you like a drink?” I ask, softly folding my hands in front of me. “The welcome girls usually stock the minibar a little too much for me, so…”

  Oliver’s eyes glide over me once more and I stop talking. From the top of my head to the wave of my hip to the tips of my shoes. I feel every bit wash over me. His body language, a threat to be taken. My silent replies, a promise to yield.

  Oliver steps forward. He reaches out and places both palms flat on the door, pining me, trapping me. My body responds exactly the way he wants. Loose. High. So easily played into submission.

  “Oli?” I ask, already breathless.

  He silently drifts closer until the tip of his nose touches my cheek. Warm, smooth lips target my jawline. I tilt into it as sparks rush down my neck.

  “If you don’t mind,” Oliver whispers, “I like to be in control.”

  I suck in a short, quivering breath. “I don’t mind,” I squeak.

  He smiles, those devious lips inching toward my earlobe. He parts them, leaving a tender bite on my lobe, before sliding down to my neck. One kiss. Two. A rush of pleasure as he tastes me.

  Fuck, I need this so badly.


  Oliver lifts one hand off the door. He touches my neck, slowly curling his fingers around my throat. He tightens just enough to feel my pulse against the pad of his thumb, then releases, softly plunging his hand down my neckline toward the buttons on my blouse. I do nothing but watch as he plucks each button free. He stares into my eyes as he does it, practically fucking my mind. Anticipation brews within me, tightening and twisting my nerves, leaving me shaking before he even reaches my navel.

  Finally, he breaks eye contact and looks down. Oliver exhales sharply as he pushes my blouse open. I peek down, having forgotten which bra I threw on this evening before returning to the hotel. Luckily, it’s a good one from my fun and flirty collection. Red. Lacy. Just a little too tight.

  “Fuck,” Oliver whispers.

  Yup. It’s a good one.

  He kisses my neck again, sinking his teeth into the flesh of my throat as he guides my blouse back over my shoulders.

  I let it fall to the floor, abandoning the layer of fabric in favor of his warm, firm touch instead. He licks my skin. He gropes my breasts. I gasp and ache, silently pleading for more. I hear the cautious voices in my head reminding me of my rules.

  Don’t get involved with co-workers, they say.

  This is a mistake, they say.

  I know, I reply.

  That’s why I like it.

  Oliver pushes my skirt down. He cups my ass and pulls my body flush against his. I gasp, looking deep into his blue eyes as his erection digs into my belly. We hover together, face-to-face, body-to-body, our mouths barely an inch apart.

  This is a mistake.

  But I don’t care.

  Oliver kisses me. His hand rests against my cheek, claiming me as much as the other one still clenching my ass.

  “If you have any requests,” he growls, our lips grazing, “make them now.”

  I shudder, ready to be taken. “Just make me come,” I beg.

  Without another word, Oliver crushes my lips again and pulls me off the door.

  Chapter 5

  Paige

  present day

  I tap the up arrow on the treadmill’s dashboard, increasing my current jogging pace into a full-blown sprint.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  Keeping up my pace means no time to think about... things.

  Or… persons.

  I run faster, the soles of my sneakers pounding hard against the treadmill. The mechanical whirl drowns out the pop song blaring in my earbuds, but I don’t mind. If I can’t hear Britney’s voice, then I can’t hear my own thoughts, either, and if my overnight musings are any sign, then my thoughts right now are locked on one certain person in particular.

  Oliver Black.

  Big blue eyes. A strong jawline. And—

  No.

  Faster.

  I slap the up arrow again until I reach my personal best speed. I can only handle this speed for another few seconds max, but I have to at least try or else I spiral even further down a memory hole that I do not want to go down right now.

  Good girl.

  You’re so—

  No.

  I slam the down arrow, plummeting the speed to a pathetic walking stride. I gradually slow down along with it, panting for air as wipe the dripping sweat off my brow. My knees wobble beneath me, barely holding me up, so I hop off the tread and lean against the rail while I catch my breath.

  Okay, maybe I overdid it this morning.

  But I honestly feel like I have a good reason.

  Two weeks on the road with Oliver?

  Late nights together down in the archives.

  Eating meals together over paperwork.

  Sleeping in adjacent hotel rooms.

  Why the hell did I agree to this?

  I abandon the treadmill in the corner next to my bed and wobble through my studio apartment toward the kitchenette. As I chug a glass of water, I wonder if it’s too late to get out of it now. I could go to Graham and explain the situation. I could admit that Oliver and I have prior... relations that might compromise our work environment. That would be the responsible thing, right?

  Or would it just... add unnecessary stress onto a man who needs all the help he can get right now?

  I lean against the counter, holding in a gulp of air to curb my thumping pulse.

  The fate of the company is in your hands, Paige.

  No.

  No, I can’t do that to Graham. He has more than enough to worry about.

  I have to go on this trip. It’s just an audit; a task I’ve done hundreds of times. I literally wrote the company's handbook on it. There’s no reason I can’t handle five measly audits over the next two weeks.

  Except for the most obvious of reasons.

  I slept with the guy I’m going on the trip with.

  Once, I remind myself. I slept with him once. It’s not like we were in a long-term relationship. It was one night. Four years ago.

  Who cares?

  I nod. “Who cares?” I say out loud to my empty apartment.

  I sure don’t. And Oliver doesn’t seem to care, either, considering how normal he was last night. You know, when I totally lied to him about having errands to run this morning to get out of being alone with him. Hey, maybe he doesn’t even remember sleeping with me!

  Hey.

  Maybe he doesn’t even remember sleeping with me.

  I pout. Yeah, like I really needed that hit to my self-esteem today.

  “This is fine,” I say, reassuring myself as I rinse out my glass. “I can do this.”

  I’ll go on this trip and do my job, I tell myself in the shower. I remind myself that I’m the right-hand lady to a billionaire CEO as I shave my legs. That I am a professional woman in a professional world and that I can do this.

  I can do this.

  I can conduct myself professionally with a man I’ve been unprofessional with. This doesn’t have to be awkward or weird.

  I style my hair in a tight ponytail and do my make-up.

  Simple.

  Elegant.

  Professional.

  I put on the skirt and blouse I set out for myself last night and gather my suitcase and carry-on I also packed up the night before.

  It’s time to go to work.

  I step one foot out into my hallway and pause.

  Wait!

  I quickly double back to grab my favorite book off my nightstand.

  Okay, now it’s time to go to work.

  Chapter 6

  Oliver

  I sit alone in the airport terminal with my phone pressed against my ear and a thick rock churning my gut. My carry-on sits on the last empty chair beside me, saved for the woman who’s supposed to be here with me. The crowd passes around me and I search every single one of their faces for hers as I nervously bounce my ankle up and down.

  “You still there, Oliver?”

  “Yeah, Graham,” I say into my cellphone. “I’m here.”

  He laughs. “Don’t be nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous. You know me. I got this.”

  “I do. Is Paige there yet?”

  I perform another scan of the passing crowd. “No,” I answer.

  “Strange. She’s usually there before I am.”

  “Probably just running late. She did mention last night that she had some errands this morning.”

  “Well, when she gets there, use her.”

  I smile to myself. “Whatever you say, boss.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I still don’t see why I need a babysitter,” I say. “I can do this job by myself.”

  “She’s not a babysitter,” he says. “She’s an assistant. She’s there to assist you.”

  “Well, I don’t need an assistant.”

  “She’s an expert on your job, Oli. Don’t waste it because of your ego.”

  I frown. “I don’t have an ego.”

  He snorts. “You sure about that?”

  The crowd parts down the termina
l, and I catch sight of a blonde ponytail walking in my direction. She pulls a red carry-on bag behind her. Her hips sway within a tight, black skirt. A white blouse and a black jacket. Thick, blue-rimmed glasses. Professional from her head to her toes.

  Definitely Paige Landon.

  “Hey, Graham,” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  I look at her crimson high heels. “Do her shoes always match her carry-on like that?”

  “Yes!” He laughs. “They do.”

  I nod. “Neat.”

  “Soon she’ll be laying out ties for you that match her shoes. You’re corporate now, buddy. Time to look the part.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Any last-minute advice?”

  “Yeah, don’t answer her phone,” he says. “She hates that.”

  “Noted,” I say. “We’re boarding soon. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Go do some work,” he says, stifling a yawn.

  I chuckle. “Go get some sleep.”

  “What’s that?” he jokes.

  “Bye, Graham.”

  “Bye.”

  I hang up as Paige reaches our gate. She pauses on the thin, stain-marked carpet and glances around, obviously trying to find somewhere to sit that’s not in the only empty seat next to mine.

  Finally, she gives up and walks over to me with her carry-on still dragging behind her. I notice a few more hints of red scattered on her like little ruby crystals. Her trimmed, painted fingernails. The pendant around her neck. Her lipstick.

  “Hey,” she says stiffly.

  “Hi.” I smile at her feet. “Nice shoes.”

  She looks down and nods, genuinely pleased by the compliment. “Thank you.”

  “Would you like to sit down?”

  Her eyes target the chair, but the rest of her doesn’t budge. “No,” she says. “I’ll stand.”

  “Actually, that’s a good idea,” I say as I pull myself up. “Might as well stretch our legs a bit.”

  Paige twitches in front of me, her eyes barely touching mine for half a second before bolting in another direction. She looks at the chairs behind me, but that escape route is quickly blocked off by two women rushing to steal them before someone else does. I watch as she considers her other options. There’s the coffee shop down the terminal, but we’re minutes away from boarding. No time for that.