The Boss's Orders: Alpha Male Billionaire Office Romance (11 page)

“
A
nd they lived happily ever
after…
”

I roll my eyes at the television. “Can we please watch something else? Something less sappy? And with more, I don’t know, beheadings?”

Vanessa throws a piece of popcorn at me. “Stop being morbid. Romantic movies are the best medicine for a break-up … or a, whatever this is.”

“I think vodka might be a better medicine.”

“That’s why we’ve got these!” April holds up her disturbingly pink cocktail creation and takes a big gulp.

My roommates had had the idea that what I needed tonight was a girl’s night to get me to stop thinking about William. Despite all my eye-rolling, I was actually grateful for their support. It was better than the “I told you so’s” that I deserved. Because they
had
told me. Many times. And I had chosen to ignore them. I had even chosen to ignore my own gut, the part of me that kept saying that falling for your boss was a huge mistake.

Seeing how filled with rage he was the other day, how he immediately assumed I had betrayed him … it made me realize that he had never seen me as more than a plaything. He was like a child whose favorite toy had been broken: petulant and completely unwilling to listen to reason. How had I ever considered having an actual relationship with this man?

I shake my head and take a big drink of my cocktail. I grimace. It tastes as pink as it looks.

I grab the remote out of Vanessa’s hand. “I get to pick the next movie. Please be advised that it will contain copious amounts of murder and mayhem.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes. “You do know you’re better off without him, right?”

I don’t say anything.

“Right? Claire?”

I nod.

“Say it,” Vanessa barks. “So I know you mean it.”

“I’m better off without him.”

“Good girl. Now you can put on all the murder and mayhem you want.”

* * *

T
he next morning
I wake up with a hangover that is as vibrant as last night’s drinks. I force myself to get out of bed anyway though — I really can’t afford to waste any more time before I start looking for a new job. April and Vanessa have been polite about it so far, but I know they’re not interested in covering for me again. I can’t say I blame them.

Luckily I’ve managed to accumulate a small bit of savings during my time at Godrich and Associates. William — Mr. Godrich — was actually paying me quite generously so I was able to pay off my debts and sock away a couple grand. That won’t last me more than a month or two in this city though, so I have to get cracking.

I grab my laptop and head to the closest coffee shop. I can’t even think about my usual moccaccino this morning, so I just get a regular coffee and an extra greasy breakfast sandwich.

I go online and start sifting through job postings. Admin this, office that. Everything looks boring as sin. I hadn’t realized how much I enjoyed the challenge of having a boss like William.

Or the challenge of having a
man
like William.

I shake my head. That was over now, and the sooner I could embrace it, the better. Probably getting a boring admin job — one with zero interpersonal drama — would be good for me.

I start firing off my resume to every single posting that I seem even remotely qualified for. On a whim I even apply to a few that I’m demonstrably
not
qualified for, but that look interesting. Manager of a small art gallery, merchandiser for a independent jewellery store, events coordinator at a multi-million dollar non-profit.

By the time I leave the coffee shop, I’m feeling marginally better. I must have sent off at least fifty resumes today. Now all I have to do is sit around and wait for someone to bite. At this rate, I should have a new job within a couple of weeks.

* * *

A
week later
, I’m feeling slightly less enthusiastic about my prospects. I haven’t gotten even a single nibble on any of the resumes I sent out, not even the ones where I’m totally overqualified.

I also haven’t heard a peep from William. Not that I thought I would but … I guess a part of me had hoped that he would come around. Not that I would necessarily forgive him even if he did, mind you.

But it would be nice to have the option.

I check my phone so many times I’m practically starting to get tennis elbow. When it finally actually rings, I’m so startled I almost drop it.

It turns out to be someone calling me for an interview. I eagerly set it up for the next day, even though it’s for one of the most boring jobs I applied for, doing call routing for a collection agency. But at this point I’ll take a job scraping gum off of park benches if it’ll get me out of the house and put money in my bank account.

The hiring manager turns out to be a plump balding man in his mid-forties named Sandy who asks me a few questions but doesn’t bother listening to my answers and doesn’t write anything down. I get the distinct feeling they’re only even interviewing me to fill a quota, and that they already have someone in mind for the job.

I still manage to bullshit my way through all of his questions until he glances down at my resume.

“Godrich and Associates,” he says. “That’s supposed to be a cushy place to work. Why’d you leave?” He squints closer at my resume. “And after only a couple of months?”

“It’s sort of a long story…” I try to wave him on to something else, but he’s staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to answer.

Great.
Now
he takes an actual interest in me.

“Well, basically, my boss thought I was going to sue him.”

His eyes widen.

“Oh, I wasn’t,” I hastily assure him. “It’s only because I was sleeping with him. I wouldn’t sue you. Or him.”

Now his chin drops. “You were sleeping with him?”

Oh God. This is not going well.

“It wasn’t like that,” I try to explain. “I was in love with him.”

Abort, abort.

Sandy snaps his mouth closed. Then he snaps my file folder closed.

“Thank you very much for coming in, Ms. Hearst. We’ll, uh, be in touch.”

He doesn’t even bother to shake my hand, just scurries out of the room. Probably going to rush off to HR to tell them to wipe my name from their records.

I push my hair back out of my face and realize that hot salty tears are pouring down my face. I wonder when those started? No wonder he was so terrified of me.

I start to laugh at the absurdity of this entire situation. I’ve become a complete trainwreck. Best of all, every worry I had about what might happen if I started sleeping with the boss is coming true. I’m unemployed with a bad resume and no references and slowly losing my mind. It won’t be long until I’m day-drinking at Ludo’s Cafe with Kelly in the middle of the afternoon.

As I head out of the office I stop by the receptionist’s desk.

“Could you give a message to Sandy?” I ask her sweetly. “Could you please tell him my lawyer will be in touch?”

Her eyes widen. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but it makes me feel a little better, and right now I’ll take what I can get.

* * *

A
s soon as
I get home, I bust open a tub of Ben and Jerry’s.

“Is there a faster way to get this into my system?” I ask April, holding up my spoon. “Do you think I could consume it intravenously somehow?”

She smiles sympathetically. “I take it the interview didn’t go well?”

“You take it correctly.”

“How bad?”

“I told him I’d been sleeping with my boss but that it was okay because I was in love with him. Oh, and then I cried.”

She claps a hand over her mouth and tries to make sympathetic noises, but I can tell she’s fighting off the urge to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” I tell her. “Okay, it’s a little bit funny. But I think it’s safe to say I didn’t get the job.”

Just then my phone rings. April and I both look at each other. Could it be? Did I somehow manage to win Sandy over enough that he was willing to overlook my outburst?

“Hello?” I try to make my voice sound as professional as possible.

“Hello Claire, it’s Tom Bristal calling. From Godrich and Associates.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m sorry?”

Shit. “I’m sorry, that was my roommate. Hi Tom.”

“I’m calling to set up your exit interview.”

“My what?”

“Your exit interview. It’s part of our policy here at Godrich and Associates. Part of how we create a solid working culture is by conducting exit interviews whenever employees leave.”

I don’t tell him what I think about his solid working culture. “I’m a bit busy these days, Tom. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to make it.” I shove another spoonful of ice cream in my mouth.

His voice softens. “Look Claire, I know how things unfolded. I’ll tell you what — you come in and do the interview, and you can use me as a reference. Mr. Godrich never has to know.”

Relief fills my chest. Having a decent reference would go a long way towards helping me find a new job. Assuming I could make it through my next interview without turning it into an episode of True Confessions. Assuming I ever got a next interview.

I nod into the phone. “Okay. I guess I can do it. When do you want me to come by?”

* * *

I
go
by Godrich and Associates the next day. The entire way over there, my heart is in my throat. What if I run into him? What if he has a new secretary? What if I run into
her
? What if everyone in the office knows what happened and they all stop and whisper as I walk down the halls?

Okay, actually, that last one is pretty likely. I was well acquainted with how office gossip worked.

I take a deep breath outside of the massive glass doors that lead to the building’s lobby. This is it. I just have to put on a brave face for half an hour. I’ve got a fresh pint of ice cream waiting for me at home when it’s all over.

I screw up my courage and push open the doors.

One elevator ride later and I’m in front of that old reception desk, the one I walked past multiple times a day. It’s amazing how fast everything comes rushing back to me.