Hate Notes: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy, page 10
"That's... not exactly what I meant."
"I know what you meant," she said, suddenly serious. "But a girl's gotta keep some mysteries, right?" Then she stumbled and giggled. "Oh! Here's one though—I think you have an amazing butt. Like, really amazing. I stop whatever I'm doing to watch when you walk past my desk. Sometimes, I think it looks so tight that I would get a black eye if I tripped and fell face first into that thing. But it’d be worth the pain,” she added with a lecherous smile.
Damn it. I shouldn't be taking advantage of her state like this. "Alright," I said. "We need to get you home. Let’s pick up the pace."
"To my bed?" she asked with a suggestive wiggle of her brows. "You going to help me get undressed, Mr. Foster? Because I wore this little pink thing underneath that would probably give you a heart attack."
I couldn't help smiling a little. She would kill me if she remembered any of this. "No," I said carefully. "I have no plans to undress you."
"Your loss."
"Is this your building?"
"Yessir," she slurred. “Yes, Daddy,” she added with a giggle. Ember fumbled around her purse for several seconds, then made a pouty face and held it up to me, admitting defeat.
I met her eyes, then reached inside her mess of a purse and dug until I found a keycard. It let us through the front door. "Which floor?"
"Three... I think. Unless they moved it again."
We took the elevator and emerged into a dingy hallway where people had set out black trash bags beside their doors. The multi-colored carpet was stained in several places, and there was a distinct smell of mildew in the air.
My chest tightened. She lives somewhere like this?
I paid her well enough to live somewhere better, didn't I? Unless she had debts I didn't know about... Was that part of her secret?
With some prodding, I eventually got her to tell me which room was hers, even though she kept using a British accent and claiming she wouldn’t tell me unless I resorted to “tickle torture,” whatever that was.
When we reached her door, it took her three attempts to get the key in the lock.
"Here," I said, taking the keys. As I opened the door, something ancient and possibly undead wound between my legs with a raspy meow.
"Catman!" Ember exclaimed. "Did you miss me? This is Orion. He's my boss. But don't worry, he only looks mean. He's actually kind of sweet sometimes."
I found myself kneeling to scratch behind the cat's remaining ear before I could stop myself. To my surprise, he pushed into my hand and purred.
"He likes you," Ember said, swaying slightly. "He never likes anyone. Smart cat."
"I have that effect on cats," I said, thinking of Goblin.
"Just cats?" she asked, and there was something in her voice that made me look up.
She was leaning against the doorframe, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine, and her hair had come slightly loose from its clip. She looked... soft. Touchable. Dangerous.
I stood quickly. "You should get some sleep."
"Mmkay," she agreed easily, then promptly tried to walk into the wall beside her door.
With a sigh, I guided her inside. Her apartment was tiny but neat, with books everywhere and a collection of… rocks? There were various colored gemstones, crystals, and shiny stones on display by her window. I glanced at them a little too long, wondering why learning that Ember Hartwell liked to collect rocks seemed so interesting to me.
"Bed," I said firmly, steering her toward what I hoped was her bedroom.
"You're kind of sweet when you want to be," she mumbled as I helped her sit on the edge of her bed. "Like with your mom and sister. And Catman. Too bad you're so... complicated."
"I'm your boss," I reminded her, but my voice came out softer than intended.
"I know," she sighed, already laying down fully clothed. "That's part of what makes it complicated. And mean bosses can be so hot, you know?"
“No,” I said. “I don’t.”
I pulled a throw blanket over her, trying not to notice how peaceful she looked or how my fingers itched to brush the hair from her face. I disappeared for a moment and rifled through her medicine cabinet until I found some aspirin. I filled a glass of water and set them both beside her on the bed.
"Get some rest," I said, noticing she had already kicked her feet out from under the blanket. With a reluctant sigh, I unstrapped her heels and set them beside her bed.
"Night, Orion," she murmured, already half asleep.
I paused at her door, watching her for a moment longer than I should have. "Goodnight, Ember."
Catman followed me to the front door, watching me with his one good eye as I locked up. Just before I left, I could have sworn the ancient creature gave me an approving nod.
Not that it mattered. She was still my employee. Still off limits. Still... complicated.
I headed home, telling myself the warmth in my chest was just from the wine at dinner.
I almost believed it.
17
EMBER
Iwoke up to three terrible realizations:
First, someone had replaced my brain with a throbbing ball of regret. I knew it was bad because I was trying to remember how many bottles I had, not how many glasses I had.
Second, I was still wearing yesterday's clothes, minus my shoes which were placed neatly by my bed, along with aspirin and water. Had Orion done that?
And third, most horrifyingly of all, fragments of last night were starting to come back to me. Including, but not limited to, telling my boss he had an amazing butt that could probably give me a black eye. If you asked me, it was a very unique and flattering compliment, but I wished I had kept that one to myself.
There were other memories trying to surface—something about calling him "Daddy" and suggesting tickle torture?—but I shoved those into the deep dark place where embarrassing moments go to die.
"Oh God," I groaned into my pillow. "Just kill me now."
Catman's sandpapery tongue on my exposed foot made me yelp. "What?" I asked him. "Come to finish me off while I'm weak? Is this finally it? Have you chosen today to reveal your true nature as an immortal death-bringer?"
He just stared at me with his one eye, then hopped onto my dresser and knocked over my phone. The clatter made my head split, but I noticed the screen lighting up with notifications.
Kora: Girl. You better call me with details about dinner.
Kora: Did you and Mr. Hottie Boss Man finally tear each other's clothes off or what?
Kora: Hello??? Don't leave me hanging! Did you at least kiss him?
Kora: If you're dead in a ditch somewhere I'm going to be really annoyed.
Cole: This Davenport lead is good work, Ember. I'm impressed. I can see why Orion is sniffing around him. You know, I sometimes think about how good we used to be together. Kylie is going to be out of town for cosmetic surgery next week. Maybe we could spend a little time together?
I stared at the text from Cole with two distinct flavors of disgust. One? I already hated that I had carelessly fed him something that might actually help him and hurt Orion. Two? Barf. Mega barf. Super-sized barf with a side of what-the-actual-fuck. I couldn't believe the man was such a goddamn snake. He cheated on me with Kylie and now he was basically suggesting we reverse cheat when his new mistress was out of town for cosmetic surgery? The levels of ick were astronomical.
I nearly threw my phone across the room before I saw the email notification from Orion. The subject line simply read "Urgent." That couldn't be good.
I grabbed the aspirin and water, downed them, then opened Orion's email with trembling fingers.
Miss Hartwell,
Meeting in my office. 8AM sharp. Regarding appropriate workplace conduct and professional boundaries.
-O. Foster
I checked the time. 7:43AM.
"Shit!" I scrambled out of bed, nearly face-planting when my legs tangled in the blanket. How was I supposed to face Orion today? After last night? After the butt comment? After calling him Daddy? Oh God, had I actually booped his nose?
I threw on fresh clothes, ran a brush through my hair, and made it to the office at 8:37AM, walking straight into Orion's office without bothering to knock. At this point, what was one more breach of professional conduct?
I found him standing by his desk looking... amused? That couldn't be right. My hangover must be causing hallucinations.
"Rough morning?" he asked, voice deceptively mild.
"Listen," I started, "about last night—"
"When you said my butt has caused a significant drop in your workplace productivity?" he asked, tone completely flat. "Or when you suggested my gluteal muscles could cause facial injuries?"
I dropped into the plush chair across from his desk and covered my face. "Please tell me you made that up."
"You texted me about it in the middle of the night with a number of emojis I have never seen before. Check yourself, if you don't believe me."
God... If you are up there, just smite me now. Better yet, open up a portal to an alternate dimension where I made better life choices.
I peered through my fingers to find Orion actually smiling. I was getting a very good look at those cute dimples of his, too. Seeing his smile did interesting things to my stomach. Or maybe that was just the hangover. Probably the hangover. Definitely the hangover.
"In my defense," I said, "your sister kept refilling my wine glass."
"And that made you develop an obsession with my posterior?"
"I am not obsessed with your—" I stopped, noticing his smirk. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
He moved to stand in front of his desk, putting himself directly in front of me. Putting himself closer to me than was strictly necessary, and the proximity was already making me feel like I was getting a hot flash. "We should discuss appropriate workplace behavior,” Orion said.
"Right," I said, straightening. "Very professional. No more commenting on body parts. Got it."
"Or booping noses."
I groaned. "I was hoping that part was a nightmare."
"If it helps, Catman seemed to approve of me."
"He's a terrible judge of character. He once tried to adopt a raccoon. We had to have an intervention."
Orion's laugh was unexpected and...nice. Really nice. The kind of nice that made me forget about my hangover for a second. The kind of nice that made me want to make him laugh again.
"About last night," he said, his voice turning serious. "I want to make sure we're clear about—"
A knock at his door made us both jump. Roman stuck his head in.
"Sir? You asked me to let you know when the meeting was about to start.” Roman glanced at his phone, then gave a quick smile. “Five minutes."
Orion stood, professional mask sliding back into place. "We'll finish this discussion later, Miss Hartwell."
"Looking forward to it," I said, then immediately wanted to kick myself. "I mean, not looking forward to it. Just... acknowledging it. Professionally. Like a professional who professionally acknowledges things. Professionally."
His lips twitched. "Get some coffee, Ember. You look like hell."
"Gee, thanks, Da—" I clamped my mouth shut. "Thanks. Just... thanks."
"And Ember?" he called as I reached the door. "Nice shoes."
I looked down at my feet, realizing in horror that in my rush, I'd put on one black heel and one navy one.
Perfect. At least I couldn't possibly embarrass myself any more today.
Then my phone buzzed with another text from Cole.
Cole: Just thought of that thing you used to do with your tongue. Remember?
I stared at my phone in horror. Apparently, today could still get worse. Wonderful. And there went my appetite for lunch, which was especially frustrating because I loved lunch.
At least I had coffee to look forward to. And possibly an exorcism for whatever demon had possessed me last night and made me think booping Orion Foster's nose was a good idea.
“Maybe let’s try to be less of a walking disaster from here on out?” I muttered to myself as I walked back to my desk.
A passing employee gave me an odd look, probably wondering why I was talking to thin air.
Yep. This day was already a write-off, and it wasn't even 9AM.
18
ORION
"You're brooding more than usual," Colton said, sinking a three-pointer from the edge of the court. "And that's saying something."
I caught the ball as it bounced toward me, dribbling absently. The private gym was empty except for us, which was exactly why I liked coming here at 5:30 AM. Well, that and because Colton wouldn't shut up until I agreed to “hang” when he was in town.
"I'm not brooding," I said, taking a shot. It bounced off the rim.
"Right." Colton grabbed the rebound, his usual serious expression brightening with amusement. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the woman Remmy told me about, would it?"
I made a mental note to have a word with my sister about gossiping. "She's an employee."
"Who apparently got drunk at your mom's house and told you that your ass could cause physical injury."
The ball slipped in my hands. "I'm going to kill Remmy."
Colton laughed, the sound echoing off the gym walls. Despite his usually stern demeanor, he had one of those infectious laughs that seemed to come from deep in his chest. "Come on, man. When's the last time you actually dated someone? And don't say Stephie, because we both know that was just you trying to get your family off your back."
I took another shot. This one went in. "I don't have time to date."
"Because you're too busy measuring skirt lengths with rulers?"
"I hate all of you,” I said, chucking the ball toward Colton with more force than necessary.
"Look," Colton said, his voice turning serious as he caught the ball. "I know losing your dad young messed with you. Made you think you had to be perfect. In control. But you're allowed to actually live your life, you know?"
I stopped dribbling, studying my oldest, and likely my only friend. Colton was probably the only person besides Remmy who could talk to me like this. We'd met in college when he was getting his medical engineering degree, and somehow he'd stuck around despite my... everything.
"It's complicated," I said finally.
"Because she works for you?"
"That's part of it." I hesitated. "She's different. Unpredictable. The exact opposite of everything I've built my life around."
"Sounds terrifying," Colton said with a grin. "You should absolutely go for it."
I shook my head. "I can't just..."
"Can't just what? Feel something? Take a risk?" He tossed me the ball. "Maybe that's exactly what you need."
I thought about Ember's laugh, the way she challenged me, how seeing her in my mother's kitchen had felt strangely right.
"I’ve already gone through the most likely outcomes. All of them involve things going terribly wrong.”
"What if they don’t?" Colton shrugged. "Besides, from what Remmy tells me, this woman already drives you crazy. How much worse could it get?"
I thought about Ember's texts from last night, her complete lack of fear when it came to teasing me, the way she looked at me like she could see right through my carefully constructed walls.
"Much worse," I said. But I was already thinking about possibilities. Ways to maintain control while exploring... whatever this was.
"Good," Colton said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Now stop thinking so hard and play. Some of us have actual jobs to get to."
"You fix machines for a living."
"Very expensive, very important machines. Speaking of which, I'm in town for the next few weeks installing some new imaging equipment at Mount Sinai. We should grab dinner. Bring your chaos agent."
"She's not my anything," I said automatically.
"Yet," Colton said with a knowing smile. "Now are you going to shoot or just stand there looking constipated?"
I threw the ball at his head. He caught it, laughing.
At least someone was enjoying this.
19
ORION
"...and as you can see, Mr. Davenport, our proposed improvements would increase the property value significantly."
I was only half-listening to Roman's presentation. The other half of my brain was stuck on Ember—how she'd looked yesterday morning, disheveled and hungover, yet somehow still managing to be irritatingly distracting. Those full lips had been extra puffy, slightly swollen from sleep, and I'd caught myself wondering what it would feel like to...
No. I refused to acknowledge that line of thought. It was wildly inappropriate and unprofessional. Colton's words from our morning basketball game weren't helping either.
Marcellus Davenport sat across the conference table, studying me with shrewd eyes. He was pushing ninety but sharp as ever, his weathered hands folded neatly on the polished wood.
The meeting wasn't exactly going well. Marcellus Davenport appeared to be a highly emotional man who didn't care about our impressive numbers, contract success rates, or unparalleled resources. He seemed unmoved by the carefully crafted presentation Roman had spent weeks perfecting.
In short, I wasn't getting through to him, and I could see it in his cold expression. From the looks on Roman and Moira's faces, they could see how poorly this was going as well. Worse, Moira had insisted on letting some of her people sit in, which meant I wasn't entirely surprised to find Ember at the conference table along with a few other familiar faces.
My failure of epic proportions had quite the audience.
"The projections speak for themselves," I said, attempting to salvage things with a more personal pivot. "But ultimately, Mr. Davenport, what matters is preserving your legacy. These factories have been in your care for decades. We want to honor that history while bringing them into the future."
Davenport's eyes narrowed. "And what do you know about legacy, young man?"
