You’re the Boss Read Online Emma Hart

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
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With those final words, she turned and stalked outside, leaving me standing in the hallway with my phone in one hand, my coffee in the other, and my shoes right in front of me.

Harvey was right.

She was scarily efficient.

I put my coffee and phone down and put on my shoes, tying the laces before grabbing my stuff and hurrying outside.

“Please lock the door, sir,” she called out of the window.

I spun back, locked the door, then finally got in the car. “Are we ready to go now?”

“I should be asking you that.” She put the car in gear and backed up. “I’d offer to be your wakeup call, but I’d have to charge overtime.”

I put my coffee in the cup holder and yawned. “It would be worth every penny. I truly forgot about how early we were getting started today.”

“If it makes you feel better, sir, we should be done early.”

“Should is the magic word there, Miss St. James.”

“Ninety percent of my overtime is because of you, so please refrain yourself today.”

I fought back a smile as I looked across the car at her. “What overtime could I possibly give you here?”

“I’m sure you’d be able to find something if you put your mind to it.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you think of me as a boss or a tyrant.”

Chloe didn’t say a word.

“Well, that settles that.”

She coughed, briefly covering her mouth with her hand as she pulled up at a red light. “Please don’t put words in my mouth, sir.”

“You weren’t answering.”

“My aunt taught me not to say anything if I couldn’t say anything nice.”

“That’s exactly why your silence settled it, Miss St. James.” I glanced at her, catching a tiny smile curving her lips before she quickly schooled her expression back into one of nonchalance.

She did that a lot, almost as if she were afraid to let me see her truly smile. Even the deliberate ones she put on in front of me were often forced, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen a smile on her face that wasn’t a business one. Not up close, at least. I’d seen the barest of glimpses of them when she’d spoken to Harvey or my grandfather and father, but she’d never directed one at me. Even in the grocery store yesterday when she’d been buying half the sweets in the shop and had smiled at me, there’d been a level of reticence.

What would it be like to be on the end of a genuine smile from her?

I wanted to know. I wanted to feel the warmth that would inevitably be a part of it.

I thought I knew her well, but maybe I didn’t know her at all.

“What’s our schedule here today?” I asked, reaching for my coffee.

Chloe reached into her door and pulled out her tablet, then handed it to me. “The code is zero-six-zero-eight and it’ll be on the screen when you unlock it. It’s quite crude, but I pulled it together quickly this morning while trying to get you moving, sir.”

In other words, she realised I’d forgotten about the early start and prepared this to save herself a headache.

I tapped in the passcode and as she said, a document with our schedule appeared on screen.

“We’ll be meeting with the owner of Pete and Sons Construction when we arrive. He and his eldest son are personally heading up this big project, and they’ll walk us through the site and show us each cottage. I believe they’ve already started work on cottages one, two, and four, if I remember correctly.”

“Why four?”

“I believe they all have the same layout, sir,” she said. “They also have the most bedrooms.”

“All right. How long will we be there?”

“Mr Andrews’ receptionist said it could be anywhere from one to three hours, so I scheduled two, so they don’t dillydally and waste our time. They’re not being paid to talk, after all.”

She was cold.

“The electricians and plumbers are all a part of their construction company, so we’ll also have a chance to meet them all while we’re there. Cottage five needs extensive rewiring, so I believe they’re focusing there while the other, lighter renovations are underway.”

“All right.”

“At ten-fifteen a reporter from the local paper is paying a visit to the site for a short interview. I informed them you’ll be available for no more than thirty minutes.”

“A reporter?” I pulled down the sun visor and checked my hair in the mirror. “Why didn’t you say that before?”

“You’ll find a small box on the backseat with a spray bottle, hair wax, and a comb in, sir,” she said without batting an eyelid.

I looked to the back of the car.

Yep. There it was.

“How did you know I’d need it?”

“It’s part of my war chest,” she answered simply. “So please fix your hair before we arrive and, next time you want to have a lie in, shower the night before so there’s enough time to do your hair in the morning.”


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