Ego Trip: A Cocky Boss Romantic Comedy

by Tabatha Kiss

  “Why didn’t you get your assistant to do that?” I quip.

  He chuckles. “Would have defeated the purpose, wouldn’t it?”

  “Family secrets and brotherly lies rise to the surface as a series of crimes rock a Midwestern town—” I stop reading the blurb to glare across the table. “Is this a murder book?”

  “Murder? No.” Oliver shakes his head, but his lips twitch. “No. Not at all.”

  “It has a bloody knife on the cover,” I argue.

  “Okay, fine. It’s a murder book. But it’s not scary. It’s mostly a story about family, and...” he pauses, his eyes falling to the book in my hand, “how far some people would go to protect them, even from themselves.”

  I study the cover again, genuinely enticed by his description.

  “Hey, you asked for my favorite book,” he says, gesturing at it. “There it is.”

  I bite my lip, hesitant. “I guess I did, didn’t I?”

  “You don’t have to read it. If you’re too scared, that is...” he adds, teasing.

  “No, no,” I say, sitting up and putting on a brave face. “I’ll read it.”

  “You will?”

  “Yeah. I’m... down for a little... familial bloodshed now and then. In the name of friendship.”

  Oliver chuckles. “I look forward to hearing your thoughts on it.”

  Shirley returns to the table with a large tray, but it’s not enough to pull my attention away from Oliver’s blue eyes. New York City itself reflects at me from them, shimmering and sparkling and... bewitching me.

  Friends, I remind myself.

  “Sicilian sandwich, split for two,” Shirley says as she sets two plates down, one for me and the other for Oliver. “You must be the new Liaison.”

  Oliver looks away first. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, extending his hand to her. “I’m Oliver.”

  “Shirley, head server,” she says. “Paige tells me you’re a worthy successor to Graham.”

  His eyes flick back to me, the force of it nearly knocking the wind out of me. “She did, huh?” he asks.

  I press my lips together. “I might have said something like that, I don’t know,” I say with a shrug.

  “Well, either way,” Shirley says, her voice playful as she looks at Oliver, “you’ve got some mighty shoes to fill. Graham’s beloved around here.”

  Oliver bows his head. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” she asks him, still... very playful.

  I swallow hard.

  “No, thank you,” he says. “I’m fine with water.”

  “If you change your mind, just wave. I’ll...” Shirley’s smile deepens even further into her rosy cheeks as she reaches out and brushes Oliver’s shoulder with a gentle hand. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

  I try not to react as Oliver’s smirk crawls up his face and a gray rock settles in my gut.

  However, he says nothing back, only giving her a respectful nod as she lets go and shuffles off to check on another table.

  I glance at the book next to my plate, suddenly longing to feel the cold steel of that bloody knife.

  “Well, she’s friendly,” Oliver says.

  I chortle. “Yeah, no kidding.”

  “Was she that way with Graham?”

  “Uh...” I shake my head. “Nope. Just you.”

  After a long, achingly silent moment, I force myself to look at Oliver. I realize that he’s staring at me now, his eyes squinted with suspicion.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” he says. “You went quiet.”

  “No, I was only thinking—”

  “You’re jealous.”

  I lean back slightly. “Jealous?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would I be jealous?”

  “For the same reason I told off Ian when he talked about you.”

  “Because inter-office relationships are unprofessional?”

  “No,” he says. “Because I like being the only one you broke the rules for and, I think… you don’t like seeing me with anyone else on the Botsford payroll, either.”

  “Wow...” I blink twice. What an egomaniac. “That’s one hefty assumption you’ve made there.”

  Oliver tilts his head, his eyes still so soft on me. “Am I wrong?” he asks.

  I don’t answer, but my burning cheeks sure do.

  “Sorry,” he says, still smiling. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “You didn’t,” I squeak.

  He nods without a response.

  As we go quiet, I look away. My eyes focus on the book beside me again. It’s not my usual kind of entertainment, but it’s my friend’s favorite book.

  My friend who likes murder mysteries, the winter months, and the color blue.

  “Summer,” I say.

  Oliver raises a curious brow.

  “My favorite season is summer,” I explain.

  “Really?” he says, somewhat disappointed.

  “I abhor snow.”

  His jaw drops. “How is that even possible?”

  “It’s cold! And wet.”

  “That’s what coats and hats and gloves are for,” he argues.

  “None of which are necessary for a perfect summer day at the beach.”

  He sneers. “Your favorite color isn’t really red, is it?”

  I bite my bottom lip. “Well…”

  “Ugh.” Oliver sits back. “You know, we might have to reconsider this whole friendship thing.”

  “We really might,” I quip.

  “Getting nervous about this sandwich now…” he says as he reaches for his half.

  “Oh, if you hate this, then we’re done,” I say, slicing the air with my hand. “I’m completely serious.”

  Oliver chuckles over his plate as he carefully picks up the sandwich. “Here goes nothing,” he says.

  I watch closely as he takes a bite, actively studying every little change in his expression as he chews.

  He turns his face away from me, trying not to choke as he holds in his laugh. “Stop that,” he says through a hole between his lips. “It’s creepy.”

  “Well?” I ask, holding my stare.

  Oliver covers his mouth, taking his time as he swallows it down and enjoys a sip from his water glass. After a moment, he sits back and licks his lips, nodding.

  “It’s not bad,” he says.

  “Not bad?” I repeat.

  “Okay, it’s kind of amazing,” he adds.

  “I told you!” I slide my plate closer. “Friendship saved.”

  “Looks like.”

  “You’re lucky,” I say. “For now.”

  He laughs as I take a bite from my half.

  Chapter 14

  Oliver

  I turn yet another page, telling myself it’ll be the last one. It’s nearing two in the morning now. I have a full day of New York tasks ahead of me and yet...

  I don’t want to stop reading this goddamn book.

  The plot is... basic. Definitely not my usual thing, but it’s the characters. Melissa is frustrating, but cute and adorable. Richard is a straight-up dick most of the time, but somehow legitimately charming. Add in her quirky friends and his comic relief co-worker — and his sassy mother, my god! — and I honestly don’t want to leave this dumb little world.

  Well done, Melanie Rose. I hate you.

  Just one more page.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  Richard cocked his head in the doorway. “Can I come in?” he asked.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “You know why I’m here, Mel.”

  “I really don’t...”

  He leaned forward a bit, his dark bangs just barely hung over his jade eyes. “I’m here because I’m bored and lonely and the only thing I can think about is pulling those panties down.”

  “Richard.”

  “With my teeth.”

  I chuckle. This guy.

  “Richard,” I said agai
n, but this time far weaker than I meant to. He smiled, sensing it. “You should go.”

  “Why?” He smirked. “Afraid you’ll do something naughty?”

  “Yes. No!” I dug my toes into the floor. “Please, just go.”

  Richard paused and bit down, slowly dragging his teeth along his bottom lip. “If that’s what you really want,” he said, letting his voice dip into a low, cool growl.

  I felt the heat fill my cheeks, and I hated myself for it. Richard was bad news. A fun time, sure. But bad news. We came from two different worlds; mine of cocktail parties and trust funds. His of leather jackets and motorcycles. But that’s why I liked him, too. He was fun and different and just too damn cool.

  “It is,” I said, still fighting.

  His eyes drifted down my body, sending another wave of heat throughout my face. In that moment, I wanted him. I wanted him to ignore my words and read my body language instead.

  And he did.

  Richard pushed through the doorway, took hold of me, and pulled me against him. I gasped, barely able to take a full breath before he crushed his mouth on mine.

  My dick twitches beneath the covers.

  “Hot damn,” I mutter to myself.

  Maybe just one more page...

  I shift the book into my left hand, pinching it tightly as I rest my right hand on my bulge. I give myself a few quick rubs, picturing with perfect clarity as Richard scoops Melissa up and sets her on the kitchen counter. Plump lips and spread thighs…

  The phone on the bedside table rings. I jolt in surprise, genuinely confused by what the sound is at first. I can’t say I remember the last time someone called me on one of the hotel phones...

  I set the book down on the pillow next to mine, being extra careful not to bend any of the precious pages as the loud ringing blares once again.

  “Hello?” I answer the phone.

  “Liar!”

  I remove my hand from my dick. “Paige?” I ask.

  “You said this book wasn’t scary!”

  I blink twice. “Why are you calling my room phone?”

  “Because my cell is charging in the bathroom and I’m too freaked out to get up.”

  “You charge your phone in the bathroom?”

  “Yes,” she answers as if that’s not weird at all.

  “Okay…” I check the time again. “You know it’s 2 AM, right?”

  “Yeah, well, if I can’t sleep, then you shouldn’t, either!”

  I chuckle. “How far into the book are you?”

  “The sister just found the footsteps in the snow outside her bedroom window.”

  That’s over half-way through. “Damn, you read fast,” I say, impressed.

  “I can’t believe you’re making me read this!” she says, obviously on edge.

  “Oh, it’s not that bad.”

  She makes a noise. A small, slightly pathetic whimper. Still adorable, though.

  “Paige, it’s okay.” I grab the book beside me. “I’m up reading, too, by the way.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me this was porn?”

  She gasps. “It is not porn!”

  “Paige, I know porn. I am what you’d call a connoisseur of porn and this... is porn.”

  “You’re a connoisseur of porn?”

  “More or less.”

  “Who even admits that?” she asks, laughing hard.

  “Someone trying to distract you from the man hiding in your closet.”

  She gasps again. “That is not funny, Oliver!”

  I laugh. “Paige—”

  “Why?! Why would you say that?”

  “Because I’m an asshole. I’m sorry.”

  “Dick.”

  “Calm down. There’s no one there,” I say.

  “Five years,” she says. “Five years I’ve stayed in countless rooms in Plazas around the world and I’ve never, ever, felt scared in my room alone until I cracked open this stupid book.”

  “Are you enjoying it, at least?”

  Paige releases another pitiful sound, but it’s stronger and more amused than before. “Yeah,” she admits. “I am.”

  “Yeah?”

  “The characters are pretty wild.”

  I shift up to sit taller. “Right?”

  “I don’t even know what to even think of the maid so far.”

  “Oh, just wait,” I say, smiling. “She gets better.”

  “Don’t spoil it for me!”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Are you enjoying your book so far?” she asks. “Other than all that nasty porn, I mean.”

  I chuckle. “You know what? I think I am.”

  “You hate it.”

  “No, I don’t! Really! It’s a lot more fun than I thought it’d be. I’m glad I picked it up.”

  “What part are you at?”

  I smirk. “Richard just showed up at her place in the middle of the night.”

  Paige stays quiet for a long second. “Oh, yeah?”

  “I must say, he’s got some good lines.”

  She chuckles. “He does!”

  “I might need to take a few notes.”

  “Well, if you’re going to take notes from a romance hero, Richard Wells is a good place to start. I mean, he is exactly... well...”

  I raise a brow. “He’s very what?”

  “Nothing,” she blurts. “I just realized that I was about to reveal something very personal about myself. Thought twice.”

  “Eh, go ahead,” I say, more than a little interested.

  “No, no. I shouldn’t.”

  “Friends reveal personal details about themselves to friends all the time.”

  “Okay, yeah. Sure...”

  “And I told you about my love of porn, so...” I smile as she laughs, “you might as well just let it out.”

  “Well, that’s not fair. Everyone loves a little porn.”

  I laugh. “I’m going to remember you said that.”

  “Okay, well...” She softly clears her throat. “Richard is… my dream guy, basically.”

  “Your dream guy is an unemployed alcoholic?”

  “Well, no. Sure, Richard has his flaws, but he’s loyal. He knew within a literal minute of meeting her she was what he wanted, and he would do whatever it took to prove it. I don’t want to spoil anything, but—”

  “Please don’t,” I say quickly.

  Paige laughs. “I’ll leave it at that, then.” She pauses. “I’ve always wanted a guy like that. Someone who’d… be there no matter what.”

  “Someone who’d be there waiting for you when you came home,” I add, remembering her words.

  “Yeah,” she says after a moment.

  I go quiet. It’s hard to believe that even after four years, she’s still looking. How is it even possible that a guy hasn’t been smart enough to be there for her and worship the ground those sensible heels walk upon?

  “Or even…” Her voice rises again, only to fall just as quickly.

  “What?” I ask, desperate to hear more.

  Paige takes a quiet breath. “Never mind.”

  “No, tell me.”

  “I can’t,” she says. “It’ll spoil it.”

  I smile. “Fair enough.”

  I glance at the clock. Good bit past two now. If we keep talking like this, then maybe…

  No, I think to myself.

  I shouldn’t.

  But who would know?

  “Busy day tomorrow,” Paige says before I can say what’s really on my mind. “New York. Day two.”

  “Right,” I say, smothering my temptation. “You should get some sleep.”

  “Oh, I’ll try…” she says.

  I chuckle. “Do you want me to come over and check under the bed for you?”

  “No,” she answers with a smile in her voice. “I’m fine. A nightmare never killed anybody.”

  “You know, Holwood has a pretty excellent book about that, too.”

  “No, thank you.�
�

  I laugh. “Well, you have my room number if you change your mind.”

  “Thanks. Goodnight, Oliver.”

  “Goodnight, Paige.”

  She hangs ups.

  I linger for a moment with the receiver pressed hard against my ear, listening to the dull tone as my blood pounds. I drop it back into its cradle and sit back, feeling a few full-body shudders. My dick throbs even harder than before, my erection fully tenting my pants.

  Go over there, you pussy.

  It’s what Richard would do, isn’t it? Go over to her place uninvited, knock on the door, and take what’s mine. It’s what her dream guy would do. She said it herself. It’s what she wants.

  Isn’t it?

  I sit forward on the bed, ready to put my feet on the floor, and march straight to her door. To hell with the employee handbook. I’m the boss and she…

  She doesn’t want me.

  We nearly kissed in the bathroom before. Laughing and sopping wet; it was like a scene torn right out of a Melanie Rose novel. Inches away from each other. Soft eyes and shallow breaths.

  But she pulled away. She doesn’t want me and if she does, she will not risk her job for me. I shouldn’t ask her to.

  That’s not what a friend would do.

  I lean my back against the headboard again. My cock still throbs, fueled with fantasy. Propping her up on the counter. Spreading her legs. Taking what’s mine…

  I sit back, and I start stroking.

  Chapter 15

  Paige

  let’s go back again . . .

  I stand beneath the showerhead. Hot water pours over me, rinsing sweat and body fluids off my skin. I feel raw and used. Stiff and pulled. A cruel, dull ache radiates deep within every part of me and all I can think is...

  Let’s do it again, Oli.

  I turn off the water and reach out of the shower for my towel. Oliver should be long gone by now, so unfortunately my throbbing nether is just going to make do with a little self-loving if I’m going to get any sleep before morning.

  I wrap the towel around me and step out of the shower.

  “All cleaned up?”

  I flinch at the voice in the doorway. Oliver stands there, naked and waiting.

  I furrow my brow, confused. “Yeah,” I answer. “I thought you left,” I add with welcome surprise.