Hate Notes: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy, page 8
"Okay," I said slowly, even though the obstinate part of me was already bouncing around for release. I didn't want to cause problems, but I loved my lunch breaks. I loved food, period. I wasn't sure I could abide by this whole chained-to-my-desk thing…
"By the way," Moira said before leaving. "How did you get this job?"
I nearly choked on thin air. "Pardon?"
"Mr. Foster doesn't just thrust people onto my team. They're typically promoted from within over a long period of time. If you noticed some animosity, that would be why. Client relations is one of the most sought-after positions at Foster Real Estate. People view your hiring as a kind of jumping in line."
"Oh," I said. "Um. He asked me not to talk about it."
Moira folded her arms, eyes narrowed. "Alright," she said after a few uncomfortable seconds. "If you have any questions, keep them to yourself until tomorrow."
I smiled. "Oh, just one thing. Nobody has talked to me about a salary or showed me an official—"
Moira was already walking off before I could finish my sentence.
Okay. Maybe she hadn't completely softened on me. I'd just have to ask about that tomorrow, but I was deeply curious to know what I was getting paid for this. Maybe I should've negotiated salary when Orion offered me the job and his lips were still wet from my tongue.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat at the memory. I knew Orion Foster was seen as a bad boss by his employees and I could've guessed he was generally unapproachable.
I didn't realize it was this bad, though.
His presence seemed to hang over the entire building like a dark cloud—as if he was the dark lord looming over his kingdom, untouchable and unseen on a high tower shrouded by stormclouds.
And damn it. I had always thought tyrannical dark lord types were frustratingly hot.
It was fine, though. From the looks of things, I was hardly even going to see the man during my average work day. That was probably for the best. I got what I needed from him, and now I could just... toil away in this little janitor's closet while all the other employees hate me and Orion ignores me.
With a sigh, I got started.
Despite my cynicism, I actually found the work satisfying. My inbox was full of such a complete range of complaints and questions I was fairly sure they were phony emails crafted for training purposes. But I didn't care. I still pulled out the bible-sized reference book and set to work.
If somebody asked whether they would be discounted for a project that went beyond the expected completion date, there was a reference section for that. If they wanted an update on their project, there was an online reference page I could check with information that was refreshed daily. If they were angry at Mr. Foster, there was a simple, surprisingly humorous page suggesting I earn my salary and find a way to smooth things over myself.
It was fun because I felt like I was good at it. I liked the challenge of using the company-provided facts and details but the necessity to craft a diplomatic, friendly reply.
Things were going smoothly for a few hours until my stomach growled.
I hadn't brought food, and I didn't have the money to order delivery.
But Mr. Foster would have to see me leaving to take lunch to get upset with me, right?
I stood, turned, and then my stomach dropped. There was a camera that looked brand new, and it was mounted directly behind my desk within the little janitor's closet. I hadn’t even noticed it until that moment, and quickly hoped I hadn’t done anything too embarrassing when I thought I wasn’t being observed.
I slid my chair closer, stood precariously on my heels, and brought my face within inches of the camera. "Orion? Are you watching me with that thing?"
I glared at the lens, unsure what else to do until I heard a chime from my computer.
I nearly fell off the chair, but caught myself, sat, and scooted back to my desk to check. It was an email from Orion.
Ember,
Do not stand on your chair. You could get hurt.
Mr. Foster.
I looked at the screen for several seconds, then turned toward the camera. "What will you do if I put tape over your creepy little camera? What if I don't want to be recorded?"
There was another chime a few seconds later.
Ember,
There are cameras throughout the entire office. I added this one when your desk was put in. You are not special.
Mr. Foster.
I let my jaw hang in indignant annoyance. "And yet you're sitting in your office listening to my audio?"
I waited a long time, but no chime came. I stood, straightened my blouse, and looked up at the camera. "I'm going to go get lunch. Outside the building." I blew a kiss toward the camera just to be obnoxious and stormed out of the room.
My angry exit was less dramatic than I hoped because I got a little lost trying to find my way back to the elevators.
When I finally did, I stalked past desks where people sat and forked food into their mouths like they were being timed. A few of them gaped at me as I headed for the elevator. I heard more whispers and gossipy snippets of conversation but ignored them this time.
"I’m heading out for my lunch break. If anyone needs me, I’ll be back in an hour,” I said to nobody in particular.
The stunned expressions and slack jaws were almost worth the hell I was probably about to bring down upon myself with this little stunt.
13
ORION
Iwas supposed to be focused on Roman's presentation about the Davenport opportunity. Instead, my eyes kept drifting to the small window on my desktop where the security feed from Ember's workspace played.
She had returned from her extended lunch seventeen minutes ago. The moment she sat down, she looked directly into the camera, smiled, and proceeded to eat what appeared to be a massive burger dripping with sauce while maintaining unblinking eye contact with me. I knew she was doing it to get under my skin. What irritated me most was that it was working.
"...and as you can see from these projections," Roman was saying, gesturing to figures displayed on the conference room screen. "Even if we only got one of the three Davenport properties, it would double our quarterly profits for the next five years. Getting all three would—"
"Foster hasn't heard a word you said in the last ten minutes," Moira interrupted, her dark purple lips curving into a knowing smirk. "He's too busy spying on our newest employee through the security feed."
I snapped my eyes away from my laptop screen, glaring at Moira. Meanwhile, Roman stood at the head of the table in his too-perfect suit, looking like I had personally insulted his mother. Julian slouched in his chair beside them, doodling what appeared to be a ghost on his notepad.
"Mr. Foster?" Roman prompted. His tone suggested this wasn't the first time he'd tried getting my attention.
I cleared my throat. "I don't need further convincing about Davenport. These properties would be game changers. I understood that when you presented it the first time."
"Yes, but—" Roman started.
"You wanted to really drive home just how important the little bone you brought to our boss was?" Moira suggested. "Maybe he didn't pet you hard enough last time?"
Roman's jaw clenched. "If you paid attention, Moira, you would know the point of this presentation was on the outcomes of acquiring less than all three properties, which—"
"Enough," I said, eyes drawn back to the little screen. Ember was now making a show of licking sauce from each finger while staring into the camera. "Moira, how is our new... hire performing today?"
Roman threw up his hands in disbelief, then walked to sit at the far end of the conference table like a sulking child.
Moira's dark eyes narrowed. "She isn't like our usual hires. In fact, the circumstances surrounding her appointment here are highly unusual."
"Yeah," Roman said sourly. "Because she's the girl who was reading Mr. Foster Hate Notes every morning until he hired her."
My head snapped up as I fixed Roman with a glare that usually sent employees running. He held up both hands as if I'd pointed a gun at him.
"You pay me to catch things, Sir. I'm only making an observation."
"An observation that's none of your damn business," I growled.
Moira looked like she wanted to press the issue but thought better of it. "In any case, was there a specific reason you wanted her involved in a project as important as the Davenport properties?"
"Several specific reasons," I said, eyes magnetized back to the screen where Ember was now dramatically brushing non-existent crumbs from her chest. Each swipe of her hand made her cleavage give a dangerous wobble, further threatening to release one of her breasts from her halfway buttoned blouse.
Julian's head popped up from his doodle. "I heard she's already causing chaos. Someone said they warned her about leaving for lunch, and she walked straight out of the building not even a minute later. Legend," he added with a grin.
"Focus," I snapped, perhaps more sharply than necessary. On my screen, Ember had finished her burger and was now making direct eye contact with the camera while slowly licking each finger clean.
God damn this woman.
Roman leaned forward, a knowing glint in his eye. "With all due respect, sir, you never do anything without a reason. If you hired her and immediately involved her in our biggest project, you must see something valuable in her skill set."
On the screen, Ember had produced a chocolate bar from somewhere and was now taking exaggerated bites while pretending to work. Each bite seemed deliberately calculated to drive me insane.
"I want you to seriously consider Ember for this task," I said. "If you ultimately decide someone else is the better candidate, so be it. But I'm going to hold you personally responsible for the outcome of negotiations with Davenport, however they may go."
Moira paled but nodded.
"About that," Julian interjected, still focused on his ghost doodle. "I had this weird dream last night where Davenport's ghost was haunting me. Do you think it's a sign we shouldn't pursue this? Like, maybe his spirit is trying to warn us?"
Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. "Julian, he's not dead yet."
"Oh." Julian brightened. "Well, that's good news!"
I stood abruptly, making them all jump. "We'll reconvene tomorrow. I need to handle something."
As I strode toward the door, I heard Roman mutter, "Ten bucks says it involves the new girl."
"Twenty says she's gone by the end of the week," Moira replied.
"Haven't you two ever watched a princess movie?" Julian asked. "It's pretty obvious what's going on here. Mr. Foster is Beauty, and this new girl is The Beast. Duh."
I slammed the door behind me, their words echoing uncomfortably in my head. Ember's presence was already disrupting my carefully maintained order. The smart thing would be to fire her immediately.
Instead, I found myself walking toward her workspace, drawn there like a moth to a particularly irritating flame.
Heads popped up briefly at the sounds of my footsteps across the office. When people saw it was me, their eyes widened before they immediately ducked back down behind computer monitors or scurried to desks like frightened mice.
I ignored them all, tearing a path straight toward Ember's desk.
I stopped in the doorway and found her lifting the last bite of her chocolate bar to her lips. She froze when she saw me, smiled, and then popped it into her mouth and licked her finger clean. "Hello, Mr. Foster," she said with feigned innocence.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I know," she said. "The sugar isn't good for my body, but it's good for my mental health. And at some point, you've got to consider the balance, right?"
"I don't mean about the goddamn chocolate. You've been staring at the camera like—"
"Oh, that thing?" Ember asked, leaning back in her chair and batting her eyelashes. "Were you watching me? Out of all the cameras in here and with all the important things you must have going on in your day?"
"I wasn't just watching you. No."
"Oh, good," Ember said. "Because that would give me the wrong idea. I'd wonder if you only hired me because you had some sort of inappropriate attraction to me. Like you wanted the power fantasy of having me under your thumb. You know, the whole perverted boss calling his secretary into his office after hours and..." she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
"You're not my secretary," I snapped. The damn woman had me reeling. I could hardly form a complete thought, let alone remember why I thought coming here in person was a good idea. "And I'm not—"
"Oh," she said, lifting a greasy bag toward me and giving it a little shake. "Did you want some fries?”
"I don't—no."
"Okay," Ember shrugged. "Was there something else you wanted? Or should I get back to work? I was working really hard before you interrupted me, by the way. You'd know that if you had been watching me on the cameras closely."
I had watched her do nothing but slowly and defiantly eat her lunch, and the woman knew it. She was teasing me. She wanted me to admit I had been watching her closely enough, and if I called her lie about working, she’d have her proof.
"Wow," Ember said, biting back a smile.
"What?" I grated.
"I just thought steam coming out of people's ears was a cartoon thing. Today I learned it's real. That, or you're actually a robot and something is about to blow up inside you..."
"Get back to work," I said.
"I was planning on it before my boss came in and began distracting me. This office space is great, by the way. I love the privacy. Makes me feel so... special."
I paused mid-step with my back to Ember. Just walk away, Orion. Every word you say is only fuel to this infuriating woman.
"Was there something else?" she asked sweetly.
"No," I said, then slammed her door behind me as I left.
I heard her laugh echo through the door as I walked away, and I realized with growing horror that the sound made something in my chest flutter.
This woman was going to be the death of me.
14
EMBER
Over the past few weeks, I learned a few important things about my new job at Foster Real Estate:
First, my new desk, which was no longer in the janitor’s closet after I told Orion how I liked the privacy, had an excellent view of Orion's office. This was both a blessing and a curse, since watching him pace, run his hands through his hair, and generally brood was oddly mesmerizing. I'd catch myself staring when I should have been working, which probably explained why Moira kept shooting me those knowing smirks.
Second, I was actually good at this job. Really good. The kind of good that made Moira stop giving me that "who did you sleep with to get here" look and start giving me the "maybe you're not completely useless" look instead. Baby steps.
Third, Orion was absolutely over the “game” of bribing all the hate note employees Patricia sent his way after letting me go. In fact, he was offering such staggering sums of money that she had apparently put a temporary halt on sending anyone to read him messages, and the backlog was getting her a growing number of bad reviews. I was sure Orion loved all of this, but if he did, he gave no outward indication.
Last of all, I had learned that my plans of avoiding Orion Foster while working here were fruitless. I would have had a better shot at avoiding gravity or the IRS. The man was everywhere, always showing up at the worst possible moments—like now, when I was trying to eat a contraband sandwich at my desk.
I managed to shove half a turkey club into my drawer as his shadow fell across my desk. Without looking up, I knew exactly what expression he'd be wearing: that irritated-but-trying-to-hide-it look that made his jaw tick and his nostrils flare.
"Miss Hartwell," he said, voice clipped. "A word?"
“Jalapeno.”
“What?”
“Sorry. You should be more specific next time. I thought you just wanted any old word.”
Orion did this thing when I pushed his buttons where he straightened and seemed to start giving off heat. He was doing that now. “I need to speak with you,” he said, voice clipped and tight.
I brushed a suspicious crumb off my lip. "Let me guess—you missed our morning hate note sessions and wanted to recreate the magic? I could freestyle one for old time's sake."
His jaw tightened. Damn, but his jawline could cut glass when he was annoyed. "Moira tells me she unleashed you on the Golding account. That's an important client, and I'm not convinced you're ready for that level of responsibility."
"Ah, yes. Eleanor Golding? The old woman loves me," I said, spinning my chair to face him fully. "Did you know she collects ceramic ducks? I sent her one as a thank you for considering us. She was so touched she called just to tell me about her whole collection. Forty-seven ducks, if you can believe it."
"You sent her a..." Orion trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's not protocol."
"Neither is putting new employees in janitor closets, but here we are. Or… there we were, I guess, until you decided to bring me out where you could watch me in full, real life high definition instead of through a camera lens." I smiled cheerily up at him.
His eyes met mine, and for a moment, that familiar electricity crackled between us. "You were taking advantage of the seclusion. You appear to be the sort of employee who needs constant, and very close supervision.
“Mhm. Or maybe my boss just prefers to keep his eyes on me. Anyway, your close watch isn’t helping me make friends. Hardly anybody will talk to me around here. They act like I have the plague.”
"Maybe it's because they see the way you vex me."
"Vex you?" I laughed. "Are you a Victorian gentleman now? Should I fetch the groundskeeper to ruffle your cumberbun, Mr. Darcy?"
"Careful," he warned.
"Or you'll move my desk again? Closer to your office, maybe?"
"I moved you because you were using the privacy to take two-hour lunch breaks and make faces at my security cameras."
