Hate Notes: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy, page 2
Cole clenched his jaw. We both knew Kylie didn't have a college education. She started as an intern and worked her way down below his belt, then up the company ladder, qualifications be damned.
Cole had blonde hair and a beard that made him look a little like Chris Hemsworth. I had always told him his hair looked best short, but he started growing it out when he met her. Kylie was the type of woman who treated a relationship like it was a process of breaking in a wild horse. In her mind, successfully dating somebody was like taming them and seeing how much influence you could exert on your partner.
Bleh. If you asked me, a relationship was about bringing out the best in your partner, not molding them as if they were a ball of clay.
"I'm not saying I need you to be a spy," he said carefully. "I just need you to keep an eye on things at Foster Real Estate. Maybe feed me some information now and then."
"Is that all?" I asked sweetly. "Just casual corporate espionage? No big deal?"
"Em—"
"How about you tell me why I would ever agree to this. Let's start there. Because I'm pretty sure I could lawyer up and go after your ass if you’re actually threatening to fire me over this."
"We don't need to make this dirty," he said, voice dropping to that warning tone I used to find sexy. Now it just made my skin crawl. "But I'm sure I could find a reason to fire you. The incident with Tucker, for example."
"Oh, come on," I complained. "That was funny. And no staplers were harmed in the prank. They were just... stickier. It's hardly a fireable offense."
"What about the time with Lauren?"
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. Okay. That one had gotten slightly out of hand. I could admit that much. In my defense, she really shouldn't have eaten my clearly labeled lunch three days in a row.
The truth was, I didn't have the patience or the money to pursue legal action. That lack of money was exactly why I knew I would lower my standards and do whatever it took to keep my job, no matter how much it stung.
"I'll consider it," I said with a defeated sigh.
Cole's smile was predatory, even though I knew he was trying to look gracious. "That's all I ask."
Except it wasn't. The subtext to this conversation was that I was done at Northman Group, whether I accepted this job or not. Saying "yes" would just be a way to collect a few more paychecks while I tried to find new employment.
The phone on Cole's desk rang. He tapped the button, opening up the speaker line.
"Mr. Northman, Kylie is here to see you. She brought flowers."
Barf. He hates flowers.
Cole smiled. "Uh, just tell her to wait there for a minute."
He lifted his eyes to me like I was a shitstain on his brand-new carpet. "You need to go."
I gave Cole a sarcastic salute, stood, and happily left his office.
I smiled at his secretary on the way out and purposefully detoured in the direction that would bring me right past Kylie.
Yes, there was a time when I would have made sure to slip out without her seeing. I would have happily avoided causing a potential fight in their perfect little relationship. But today, I learned I was probably going to lose my job, even though I was damn good at it. If strolling past Kylie on my way out of Cole’s office made his day just a little worse, I could live with that.
"Hi, Kylie," I said, smiling and reaching for a handshake.
She was the type of woman who smiled to your face and poisoned your drinking water, so she flashed pearly whites and extended a limp hand toward me. I took her stupidly well-moisturized skin in mine, shook it around a little, and nodded toward the flowers she carried.
"Flowers, huh?" I asked.
Kylie was twenty-two, gorgeous, blonde, and she did things like "hot yoga."
I was thirty-three, pretty in the right lighting (so long as you squinted a little), brown-haired, and sometimes walked by "hot yoga" studios. I liked animals that were so ugly they were cute, rainy days, finding out exactly how casually I could manage to dress without getting in trouble, and peanut butter jelly sandwiches.
Kylie probably didn't even eat bread.
As far as I was concerned, that fact alone solidified her as an alien presence I could never relate to.
Bread was life. If I had to choose between men and bread, I would take bread. Every time.
"Everything okay?" Kylie asked. She was wearing a fake smile as she tilted her head. "You looked like you went to outer space for a second. And you shouldn't frown like that, Sweetie! You'll make that wrinkle worse." She gave the spot between my eyebrows a little boop.
I flinched.
I took a therapeutic moment to plot Kylie’s hypothetical murder, including how I would dispose of the body and get away with it. If my time watching crime drama and movies taught me anything, it was that body disposal was probably the most important step to successfully getting away with murder.
"There's a smile!" Kylie said, voice just oozing patronizing tones. She leaned closer. "If I age even half as gracefully as you, I'll be happy. And if not, that's why they invented plastic surgery! Right?”
"I need to go," I said. Before I start stabbing you with pens, I didn't say. "Oh, by the way. Good call on the flowers. I told you he loves those."
"Thanks for the tip, girl!" Kylie said, her fake smile fading just a little too fast as she turned and walked toward Cole's office.
"Guh," I breathed. Don't ask me what "guh" means, either. It was just the sound that came out of me as I walked back to my desk.
My office bestie, Kora, saw me coming and rushed over.
Kora was one of those aggressively pretty people who somehow made business casual look like runway fashion. Today she wore a cream-colored sweater dress that probably cost more than my rent, her dark curls artfully messy in that way that definitely took an hour to perfect. Most people assumed we were an odd match as friends—her being all polished elegance and me being... well, me. But beneath her intimidating exterior was the kind of woman who would help you bury a body while cracking jokes about proper excavation techniques. Which, given my recent murderous thoughts about Kylie, might actually come in handy.
"So?" she whispered. "How did it go?" She paused, eyes flicking up and down my body, taking in my disheveled state and defeated posture.
"I... see," she said. "So we're doing ice cream tonight?"
"Ice cream," I agreed. "And lots of plotting. We're gonna plot so hard."
"Ooh," Kora said, rubbing her hands together. "I love plotting. Revenge? Glow-up? Or... wait. Did you say plot or pot? Because I’ve never tried it, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. Wait… do you mean pot, like planting flowers? Because I’m down for that, too.”
“Plotting,” I said, smiling my best evil smile. “But we are going to get our hands dirty. That’s for sure.”
Kora’s smile was uncertain but eager. “Right… So I’m still not sure if we’re going to be working with plants, but I’m loving the energy either way!”
"Good," I said. "Because I’m going to do several stupid things all at once. But I think stupid works like negative numbers. As long as you combine the right amount of stupids, you wind up with a smart.”
Kora frowned and tapped her chin. “I… don’t know if it works that way, Em.”
“Well, we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”
I would show Cole exactly who he was messing with. And if this Orion Foster guy was half the tyrant people said he was? Well, maybe he deserved whatever was coming to him, too.
3
ORION
Iwas exhausted. A recent hire had accidentally forwarded a private company email to a client—an email which didn’t paint us in the best light. I had spent a few hours on various phone calls trying my best to smooth things over, which meant completely missing dinner and fucking up my carefully ordered nighttime routine.
I spent a good deal of time and money making sure I knew how to optimize my body, and part of that was sticking to routines. Thankfully, I pre-portioned my meals and kept them in the fridge, so I would be eating late, but wouldn’t need to sacrifice nutrition.
It wasn't the first time I'd been grateful for my systems. They were like armor against the unpredictability of life, a shield against the disorder that had nearly broken me when Dad died.
I stifled a yawn as I slid my key into my apartment door. I tried to push it open, but something was in the way. I gave it a few shoves, but whatever was blocking it was solid and did not budge.
Frowning, I stuck my hand through the narrow opening and flicked on a light, which caused... sounds.
What the fuck?
I gave the door a more brutal shove and heard a thump.
"Ow, shit!" Somebody hissed.
I pushed my way in and found a dozen people in various states of sleep scattered across my pristine living room. Colton was the first to lift his head from his impromptu nap.
"Surprise!" he yawned.
"There are people in my apartment..." It was a statement more than a question. The last thing I wanted to see right now was people. My sanctuary had been invaded.
Everybody was rubbing their eyes, sitting up, and blinking through their sleepiness.
I spotted Remmy and my mom on the couch. That answered my next question. I was going to ask how they got inside, but of course my mother still had her key. A key that was supposed to be for emergencies only.
"Happy Birthday!" Remmy shouted. "Surprise!"
Ah. Of course. I had foolishly thought this was my lucky year when Remmy and mom hadn’t reached out asking for some sort of party today. I should have known better. "I hate surprises..." I said slowly.
"Oh, come on," Remmy said. "You love them. Remember how happy you were when we got you the cat?"
"I was not happy you got me a cat. He and I are still enemies," I said, though my voice softened slightly at the thought of my nemesis. As if he could understand me, Goblin made that weird, whispery meow of his and stalked into view.
Goblin was easily the world's ugliest cat. It wouldn't even be a competition. He was hairless, wrinkled, bug-eyed, and his paws all had an extra toe. He looked like something that had crawled out of a nuclear testing site and decided to make my life hell.
There may have been a secret, never-spoken-aloud kind of bond that had formed between us over the years as our quiet war of wills went on. But it was more of a grudging respect for a worthy enemy and less of the gushy love my sister expected me to feel for him.
I was still pissed that she had the audacity to surprise me with a pet. You didn't give people pets as a surprise. Pets were living creatures who needed to be cared for. She was just lucky I happened to bond with him. Sort of.
I glared at Goblin, who gave my leg a combative headbutt, as if he was promising this was only the beginning. Goblin wandered toward his litter box, leaving me with my unwelcome guests.
“Oh, come on, Orion,” Colton said. He was maybe the closest thing I had to a true friend. Colton was thirty-eight and traveled extensively for his work. He was a highly specialized expert in medical technology, and either flew to distant hospitals to fix million-dollar equipment or sell it. He was tall with a permanently serious expression and dark, wavy hair. “Even you can let loose every once and a while, right?”
“Let loose?” I asked, scanning my eyes around at the expectant faces. I took inventory of everyone Remmy had roped into this. I recognized three of her friends—Ruby, Celeste, and Ivy. All three were just as artsy as my sister but weird in their own ways. There were a couple of my mom’s friends, too. I spotted a handful of people from the office, and while I worked closely with them, I hardly counted them as friends.
The other eight or nine people were faces I recognized from various places but felt no particular attachment to. They were invaders in my space, disrupting my routine, contaminating my carefully controlled environment.
I was happy to stand there glaring, hoping they'd all feel awkward and decide to leave, but Remmy clapped her hands and smiled. "Alright, people! It's party time! Let's play Orion's favorite song."
Favorite song? I hardly even liked music, let alone—
I sighed as "Bye, Bye, Bye" by N-Sync began blasting from a Bluetooth speaker. One time. I had hummed along to it one time while working late, and Remmy had never let me forget it.
I was tired as hell, and nobody seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Why should they? The assholes had all taken a power nap while I was working late.
My mom and Remmy had me cornered in the kitchen. I heard laughter and voices from the living room as people danced, probably scuffing my hardwood floors.
"Colton’s right, Orion. You could loosen up. It probably wouldn’t even kill you," my mom said. She was in her late fifties, still beautiful, and one of the few people in this world I used my manners around.
"Sorry," I said, folding my arms and glaring at Remmy.
"Don't be mad at your little sister!" Mom said, touching my arm. "You know she just wants to make you happy."
Remmy couldn't do wrong in mom's eyes. Then again, neither could I. She taught us the meaning of unconditional love, especially after dad passed. She was always putting us before herself in ways I hadn't seen at the time. When I looked back, I realized how much of a sacrifice it must have been for her. She had held herself together for us, and I always tried to remember that.
Maybe I didn't have the same compassion she did, but I ran Foster Real Estate a bit like my mom ran our family. I showed strength. I showed unwavering conviction at all times, and I trusted my subordinates to follow my lead. The number of Hate Notes I got each morning demonstrated that it wasn't exactly a tension-free method of operating, but our quarter-after-quarter growth said it worked where it mattered.
My employees could hate me if they wanted, but I paid them highly competitive wages and offered them steady employment. That was more than most CEOs could say.
"If Remmy wanted to make me happy, she could stop surprising me," I suggested.
"Admit it," Remmy said. "You love Goblin. I see the way you two look at each other. That's why I still surprise you. You don't even know what's best for you. So I take it upon myself to give it to you."
"Coming home to a bunch of people in my apartment instead of getting to sleep is what's best for me?" I asked.
"If it was up to you, you'd die alone," Remmy said, her voice taking on that edge that meant she was only half-joking.
"That's not true. What about Stephie?" I asked.
"Your fake girlfriend?" Remmy asked, smiling crookedly.
"What?" Mom asked, eyes flicking between the two of us.
Damn it. Remmy planned this. She knew I couldn't lie to mom. I sighed. "How long have you known?"
"Uh," Remmy said. "Since, like, forever? I saw you two together one time. And you looked like somebody had shoved a lemon so far up your ass you could taste it with your eyeballs."
My mom sputtered with laughter, composed herself, and gave Remmy a slight whack on the arm. "Remmy," she said without much conviction.
"I'm tired of hearing the speech," I said. "It's why I may have allowed you to think I was dating Stephie."
"Allowed me to think," Remmy asked, eyebrows rising. "You specifically told me you were dating. And when I literally asked you, 'so you're not just pretending this is a relationship to get me off your back,' do you remember what you said?"
I rubbed the back of my neck. "The details escape me at the moment."
"Bullshit," Remmy said. "You have a photographic memory, asshole."
"Be nice," mom said, but she was smiling.
"You said," Remmy continued, "'No, Remmy. It's real, and we're in love.' Love. You said that."
"Alright. So I got a little carried away trying to avoid your matchmaking efforts. Can you blame me?"
"Yes." Remmy stared into my eyes, face serious. She raised a finger and pointed to her face. "This is the face of me blaming you, by the way. Look familiar?"
"I don't have time to date," I said. "It's pretty simple. Women take time, and I don't have time to give them. Ask Goblin."
"You mean ask Goblin how sweet and loving you are when you get over your stupid, stubborn belief that you can't care about anything except work?"
"Orion cares about his girls," my mom said, hugging my side and smiling. "Me and you, Remmy. At least we get to see how sweet he can be."
"See?" I said.
Remmy shook her head. "Doesn't count. He's going to die alone if we don't push him, Mom."
"Oh, I know," she said.
"Hey," I said indignantly.
She looked up from her hug, smiling. "She is right, honey. I think you would date your company if you could. Not that it isn't a beautiful company. I just don't think you can make grandbabies with it for your sweet, patient, loving momma."
"Babies?" I laughed, though something in my chest tightened at the thought. "They're worse than interns. At least interns can perform some tasks with a degree of competence. What can a baby do?"
My mom closed her eyes in the long-suffering way of a mother who has failed her son. Remmy shook her head.
"Do you see, Mom? He's hopeless. He thinks babies don't make sense because he can't understand how they would benefit the company. How do you salvage a man like that?"
"He just needs to find the right woman," Mom said, patting my cheek. "Once you find the special someone, your body has a way of making the illogical seem logical and the crazy seem sane. Trust me, honey. He'll come around."
I thought about Dad, about how he'd worked himself to death trying to provide for us. About how I'd sworn I'd never let that happen to the people I cared about. But sometimes, late at night when even Goblin was asleep, I wondered if I was missing something—if there was more to life than… this.
But those thoughts were dangerous. They led to chaos. To weakness.
