Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
“And you think you’re cute,” I fire back.
“No, but apparently you do,” she says, finally looking at me.
I fold my arms, waiting for whatever bullshit she’s about to fling.
She grins. “You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t think so.”
Fuck.
Cute is an understatement. There’s no denying she’s gorgeous.
She just happens to be a coldhearted, ruthless, pastry-stealing queen bitch on top of it.
“Sir? I have your cinnamon rolls packed up. Are you ready to check out?” the barista says like a voice cutting in from another world.
“Almost. I need a box of black coffee, too.”
The barista nods, moves to the back counter, and preps my coffee.
“I hope all that’s for the miserable souls who have to put up with you,” the little thief says.
“It’s for my staff. I feed my people well so they can keep up with me,” I grumble, knowing that’s only half true.
“Keep telling yourself that, Big shot.” She goes quiet for a minute before clucking her tongue and saying, “You would have a staff.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask slowly.
Why do I even care?
I don’t know this chick from Eve and what I know about her, I despise. Who cares what she thinks about me? I don’t, and I hope today is enough for her to buzz off.
With any luck, she’ll pick a different cafe and I’ll never see her again. It’s a big city, or at least big enough.
I pay for the coffee and sweets without looking back at that literal green-eyed monster. The barista hands me three neatly packaged boxes of cinnamon rolls and a huge box of hot coffee.
I didn’t plan on ordering breakfast for the whole company this morning.
I haven’t thought this balancing act through, hoisting the coffee on my shoulders and heading for the door. I try to carry everything, but have to set it all down, reposition things, and try again at the table by the door.
The devil in the black dress lingers there as she waits for her bear claw, watching as I finally manage to get everything stacked in a way so I can trudge out the door.
That’s all right, sweetheart. Don’t get the door for me. I can manage just fine.
She must read my mind because she smiles at me.
“I’d like to help, but...”
“Offer not accepted. Save your energy for that breakfast you’ll pretend to enjoy,” I snarl, kicking the corner of the door open and spinning my way out.
Her high-pitched laugh is the last thing I hear.
I roll my eyes, swearing as a broken section of sidewalk catches my shoe. I almost drop hot coffee on my feet three times before I make it back to my car.
“Oh my God. Oh my Gawd, this is heaven,” Lucy moans as she gnaws at a Regis roll and drops into the seat between Ida and me with a thud.
Apparently, eating for two makes you treat a pastry like it’s a wagyu steak.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She’s going to pop any minute, and I’d rather it not happen here. I also wish her the best.
I don’t know how this office—especially yours truly—will survive her maternity leave. As my executive assistant, Lucy keeps the place in order so I can focus on what I do best. Making money.
“Oh, I’m fine.” She takes another bite that makes her eyes bulge. “Say, since when do you sit in on interviews?”
“I told him it wasn’t necessary,” Ida, my HR director, says with a flourish of her skunk-striped silver and black hair. “It’s a senior copywriter position.”
“Not just any copywriter position,” I correct. “This new wedding line stands to make us billions of dollars—if it’s marketed properly. I’m personally invested when the talent will make or break us. Besides, anyone we bring on right now has to be fully competent. You’re about to go on maternity leave, Lucy, so that means I can’t have new hires who need endless coddling. There’s no time. Anyone we hire has to hit the ground running.”
Lucy laughs. “I love being essential. How will you survive without me around here, boss?”
“We’ll manage,” I snap, hating that she has to rub her absence in. “Just get back as soon as possible.”
“I’ll get him a temp,” Ida says.
“Ugh, good freaking luck. That never works out. It’s usually worse than not having any assistant at all,” Lucy says, wincing. “If you really want, I can try to sort your emails and the small stuff from home.”
“Like hell. I won’t have you working with a newborn. I’m not a complete ogre,” I say, raking a hand through my hair.
“Not only that, but it’s against the law, boss,” Ida remarks. Leave it to an HR director to bring legalese into it and downplay my generosity.
She shrugs. “Hey, as long as I’m getting paid. I’m happy to help however I can when I’m not sneaking in naps.”
“Just take care of your kidlet and be ready to put out any fires when you get back. Mark my words. Shit will fall apart,” I tell them.