Bossy Bully: A Sweet Billionaire Boss Romance (Sweet Bossy Millionaires Book 1) Read online

  “Jett?” I breathe the name too softly for him to hear me. He backs up more and runs right into me. My hands go out palm up to stop him and a deep tingle goes up my forearms at the contact. He’s so warm. I can’t say I haven’t wondered if my boss’ body feels as firm as it looks. He spins, grins wide when he sees me and takes me completely off guard. It takes a second for my whiskey marinated brain to catch up that the little fantasy in my mind isn’t reality.

  It’s not Jett.

  And I’m disappointed. The alcohol is quickly working over my sensibilities, I think. A pleasant flush races through my bloodstream and I can’t help imagining it is Mr. Calder, here to sweep me off my feet or at least, take me to his fancy limo and have his way with me. Oh my God, I’m buzzing hard.

  “Excuse me.” He winks and cuts through the crowd. My heart doesn’t realize that he isn’t who I thought, and it can stop acting like a teenager with a crush. The crowd seems to close in on me as I make my way to the bar, push through, and order another drink. My phone vibrates inside my bag and I grab it.

  “Justin?” I ask without checking the number.

  There’s a pause, then something that sounds like, “No.”

  “Hang on, I can’t hear you.”

  The bartender slides me my drink and I slap a ten on the counter, spinning away and cutting through the crowd until I reach the bathroom hallway. It’s a bit quieter here.

  “Okay, who is this?”

  “It’s Jett.”

  I start a little, sloshing a bit of whiskey over the rim of the glass. I sip to bring the level down. Did he know that I’d just been thinking naughty things about him? “What can I do for you, Mr. Calder?”

  “I need you to come into the office immediately.”

  I laugh. At least, I think I do. I laugh in my head, anyway. “Oooh, I am very sorry but that’s a no go. I’ve been drinking, and to be honest, I have the urge to dance.” I take another drink, nearly half, ignoring the burn in my throat as the whiskey goes down.

  “This seems uncharacteristic of you, Lora.”

  “Well,” I drawl. “Sometimes a girl just needs to get out of the house. I’m at Origin if you’d like to shed that layer of hardass you like to wear and loosen up a little.”

  I look up, my face contorting. Huh, I may have just said something I shouldn’t have.

  “That’s a ballsy thing to say to your boss.”

  “I’m off the clock, Mr. Calder. I can say what I like.” Wait… did I just invite my boss to meet me at the club? “I’m going to hang up now. Buh-bye.” Cringing, I put my phone away and go back to the bar, set down my glass and get a bottle of water.

  It’s after ten now and my heart knows that Justin isn’t going to show. He’s giving me a taste of my own medicine. The club is growing too hot, loud and stuffy so I make my way outside and wobbly cross the street to the ocean front. The boom and rush of waves hitting the sand calls me, and the warm breeze sooths my overheated skin.

  I find an empty bench and sit, staring at the dark ocean spilling out from a murky sky punched with the glow of lamp posts along the boardwalk. I sit there for a bit, breathing in. Breathing out. I don’t want to screw up this new life of mine, yet I’m still struggling with weights holding me back.

  Justin.

  The debt that I owe.

  I need to make them right.

  And I really need to never, ever have inappropriate thoughts about my boss again. I imagine his voice behind me calling my name and I want to reach inside my brain and slap it. But then I hear it again.

  “Lora?”

  Standing, I spin and see him behind me, cast in a silvery glow from the lamppost behind him. He’s wearing a T-shirt, joggers and running shoes. I do a double-take, and then a triple-take.

  Jett Calder looks amazing in normal clothes. Buff, built, sexy. God, so sexy. He’s a little sweaty as if he’d just come in from a run. The waves of his hair are messed and delightful and that’s it. There goes my brain again.

  Having another inappropriate thought about my boss. And this one’s a doozy.

  Chapter Seven: Jett

  “

  Why are you out here alone if you’ve been drinking? Are you really that stupid?” She’s not my responsibility, but I can’t stop myself from being immediately angry. “I could have been anyone sneaking up behind you.”

  I catch a glimpse at her cleavage before she crosses her arms over her chest. My nostrils flare as I force myself to look at her eyes. That dress… that dress was made for every curve of her body and I have to stop looking at it.

  “Were you sneaking up on me, Mr. Calder?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Really?” Her voice wavers a little. “You called me while I was at the club and now, here you are.”

  “You invited me to join you.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “So, you’re a drunk and a liar?”

  “What? Excuse me?”

  Her entire body tenses up but I’m not sorry about what I said. She admitted to drinking too much, and to asking me to do something she didn’t mean. “Character is important, Ms. Marcetta.”

  “Oh, it sure is. It sure is. Excuse me, I’m going to call an Uber.”

  She takes out her phone, but I don’t want her to leave just yet. Warm breeze ruffles my hair and cools my skin, while the water plays that soothing music I love to hear up close. It seems somehow more comforting with her here.

  “Would you like to sit and listen to the waves with me?”

  Her gaze moves by increments from her phone to me, as if she’s stunned by the simple question. “You want me to sit with you?”

  “Yes.”

  She lets out a rushed laugh and shakes her head. “You want to sit with me and enjoy nature, is that it?”

  “Sit down,” I say.

  “Now you’re bossing me?”

  “Just sit down.”

  Her movements aren’t as fluid as they normally are, and the thickness of her voice suggests she’s still under the influence. I get a whiff of whiskey and it makes my stomach churn. I wish Lora hadn’t been drinking. I appreciate the person she is at work, the steady, strong woman who gets things done and redirects me when I’m being difficult. This college version of her only reminds me of our past and it makes my middle flutter with worry and unease.

  Our younger selves intersected in a hot tub, at a party that I barely remember. The only thing I know for sure is that I was the only sober person at that party. I always was. Alcohol and a brain like mine don’t mix. It’s dangerous, and something I was never willing to experiment with. I found the whole social scene in college as painful as I find them today, so I’ve pushed most of those experiences out of my mind.

  Except for one.

  I’m about to order her to sit down again when she beats me to it and plops down on the bench. She crosses her arms and her legs and stares ahead at the ocean. I take a seat next to her. A deep shiver goes over my entire body. My skin is probably cooling from the five-mile run I took earlier, that’s all.

  I should ask if she’s angry with me. I think by her body language that I’ve done something to upset her. But I’m her boss, not her friend, and it doesn’t matter if she is mad at me. I’m her superior and that’s that.

  “Who is Justin?”

  That gets her attention. “My boyfriend. I was supposed to meet him at Origin but he never showed.”

  Think, Jett. Take a breath. This is one of those moments when I should reciprocate with something soothing… I think. “He isn’t much of boyfriend or a man if he stood you up. Why didn’t you choose a better partner?”

  “Oh my God, really?” She spreads her hands wide and flops them into her lap. Apparently, I said the wrong thing again.

  “Sometimes you don’t know who someone truly is until you’ve been in an intimate relationship. It turns out, that after a year, we’re probably not the right people for each other. Haven’t you been in a relationship with someone who later tu
rned out to be not what you thought?”

  “No, I haven’t. My interactions with women don’t go beyond my bedroom.”

  She laughs at this and buries her face in her hands. “I didn’t need to know that.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “I…wasn’t… I, okay, fine. I asked. You’re right. I set myself up for that.” She turns to me and my heart flips. Maybe this means, if she was angry with me, that she’s over it now. “Thank you for this inspiring talk, but I need to get home. We both have to work tomorrow and this needs to end before it gets more awkward.”

  Lora starts to get up but stops. “Why did you call and ask me to come into the office tonight if you were out for a run?”

  “I wanted your help going over the attendee profiles for the LA gala.”

  “Now? I mean, most people need to get to bed at some point.”

  “I rarely sleep.”

  It’s not a lie. I’ve dozed off for a few minutes at a time here and there, and it hasn’t amounted to much over the past week. I never feel physically refreshed, yet my mind continues to function at an impressive level. My body needs fuel and rest, but my brain seems to be oblivious of what it really needs to keep going. It won’t last forever, and I dread that part. Even now, I could return to my office and dive right back in where I left off a few hours ago and never miss a beat.

  Her lips soften and I recognize that look, the sympathetic one. “I can’t imagine not crawling into my big, fluffy bed and going to sleep. I probably sleep too much.”

  Well, I understand that, too. More than she’ll ever know. I stand and she does too, taking out her cell again to call a ride.

  “I’ll wait with you until your Uber arrives.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Of course, I don’t have to. But I’m going to look out for your safety, Lora.”

  What kind of man is this boyfriend of hers? My gut clenches as I imagine her out here, on the beach at nearly eleven at night, alone, waiting on a man who never showed. She deserves better. At the root of myself, I understand what it means to be chivalrous and the basics of caring for someone. Even if I’m not always able to show it. I wish I could be better at that.

  “Thank you, Mr. Calder. By the way, where do you live? It must be close if you’re out running around here.”

  I point up and her gaze follows to the high rise behind us. “Penthouse.”

  “I would expect no less.”

  She’s smiling now and it warms my insides like it usually does. We walk across the sand to the walkway and then up to the parking lot. A few moments later, her ride arrives and I insist on double checking the driver’s picture against the one the app sent when she’d ordered the ride. Confident that she’s in good hands, I send her off and watch the SUV as it pulls out of the parking lot and out of sight.

  Our banter tonight feels different to me, but I can’t put a finger on it. I don’t converse with women for any length of time. I know my limits, and the less I talk, the better the outcome. It doesn’t seem to bother women that I’m not a big talker. In fact, most seem to prefer it. As long as the drinks come easy, and there’s a nice dinner involved, most women are eager to take things to the next level. Which for me means the bedroom, maybe a couple repeat dates, and then a full, hard stop. I can never take it further than that because I’ll ultimately make a wrong move or say the wrong thing, and it will be over anyway. I save myself and my partner the trouble and end things before they get within an inch of being somewhat serious.

  It’s lonely and I’ve made enough women mad to know that I don’t have a good chance of long-term love. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in love. I never stay long enough to find out.

  I head up to the penthouse and strip out of my workout clothes and stand under the spray of a hot shower. I hear the sounds of the beach in my mind and it lulls me, relaxing my body in a way I haven’t felt in weeks. By the time I’m done, I feel loose and fluid and my eyelids are heavy. My legs seem to move on their own as I go to my bed and slip under the covers naked. Rolling onto my side, I stare at the wall, taking in the soft light coming in from the moon. The hush of my space. The softness of the Egyptian cotton molded to my bare skin.

  I blink, but my eyes won’t close. I blink again, trying to keep them down this time, but they pop back up. I stare until my eyes are dry and burning, but I can’t do anything about it. My brain is shutting down. I feel it like a physical thing—like pressure inside a balloon that’s slowly releasing, the inflation finally going flat… flat… flat…

  Until it’s completely and utterly drained.

  Chapter Eight: Lora

  I balance two huge bakery boxes on my right arm while clutching my coffee cup and trying to keep the strap of my bag on my shoulder.

  My head is fuzzy and despite my third cup of joe, I can’t shake it. Why not make it worse with a donut-induced sugar coma, right? If I’m going down, I’m taking the office with me.

  I plop one of the boxes in the employee break room and take the other with me to the conference room. We have a preliminary meeting this morning with an investor looking to buy in to one of Jett’s developments. Bruce turned over his work to Curtis, and, fingers crossed, all will run smoothly this morning. I’m not sure I can handle a Jett meltdown or social snafu this morning. He’d made it very clear that there was a lot riding on this meeting.

  I head to my office, surprised to see Jett’s lights are off and his office appears empty. I hold back a flicker of embarrassment over how I behaved last night. Yes, I’d had too much to drink, but the whole interaction between Jett and me was just… odd. On one hand, I got a heck of a glimpse at my bossy bully outside of the office. On the other, he also got the same of me and I’m not sure how to process it.

  I don’t want to tarnish my image in his mind. I get the sense that once Jett makes up his mind about you, there’s no changing it and for all I know, he’s still assessing, weighing and measuring me. I want the end opinion to be a good one. It’s important to me, and to my job, that he think well of me. My guilt over my relationship with Justin is shaking my confidence.

  I’d like to say that I stayed up last night, too angry and broken up over being stood up that I couldn’t sleep but the truth is that I dozed off as soon as my head hit the pillow. And I was too focused on work this morning to give it much thought otherwise.

  I grab a few things in my office, check the time and peek into Jett’s office. He’s still not there. Odd. For a while there, I suspected that he slept in his desk chair and never went home but he’s nowhere to be found this morning. I check my email and read through a few items Human Resources sent for me to review and sign. I check the time again and the meeting is in five minutes. Thinking maybe Jett bypassed his office for some reason and went straight to the conference room, I head that way.

  Curtis stops me in the hall, his brow furrowed. “Where is Mr. Calder?”

  I get an immediate sinking feeling. “I’d hoped he was in the conference room already.”

  He shakes his head. “Mackenzie already showed the clients to their seats and served them coffee. We need him to get in there, now.”

  “Okay.” I pull out my cell phone and dial his number. It goes straight to voicemail, so I shoot him a text. Client meeting going on right now.

  I haven’t texted Jett often, but he’s always responded nearly immediately. Not this time.

  “Okay, can you stall while I make a hot lap through the building?”

  “I can try. Text me as soon as you find him.”

  I nod, not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do. It’s not like I can go on an intercom and ask for the boss to be returned to his office immediately. And with four levels and two hundred employees, it’s going to be nearly impossible to hurry through the building fast enough to find him. I check my phone again. Nothing. I stop at the reception desks on each level inquiring about him. Nothing. I’m not confident in my way around quite yet, but I hit up each manager I can reca
ll but no one has seen Mr. Calder or heard from him today.

  Half an hour passes, and I call him two more times with no results.

  My heart is pounding now, and I have a sinking feeling of dread. What if something happened to him last night after we parted ways? He’d been out running. What if he’d had a freak heart attack or something? Maybe was sick or got locked in his bathroom or who knows what.

  I have five frantic texts from Curtis, so I type a hasty reply. Please tell them that Mr. Calder has had an emergency and we will reschedule at their convenience.

  You’re not serious?

  I am.

  We’re going to lose this deal.

  I want to reply that I don’t know what else to do, but I don’t want to be that person. Then I remember something: Margaret. I hurry back to my office and find the business card she gave me. Dialing her cell, I bounce on the balls of my feet and pray that she answers.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Bindi!” Whoa, I’m way too desperate. I clear my throat. “Hello, Mrs. Bindi. It’s Lora, Mr. Calder’s assistant. Say, have you heard from him today? He hasn’t shown up to the office and we have an important client waiting on him right now.”

  “Oh, that’s very unlike Jett. Who is the client?”

  I give her cursory details and she interrupts. “I know them well. I’m in the lobby and can come up and chat with them while you keep looking for my son.”

  There’s only one place I can think to look. I give the information to Curtis, grab my car keys and spin away from the parking garage. It was dark last night, and I was a little tipsy, so it takes me a bit to remember exactly which high-rise is Jett’s residence. I go to the wrong one, then another, finally recognizing it on the third try. I catch a break with a parking spot out front, and hurry inside. The lobby is stunning, but I don’t take the time to absorb as I head to the elevators… and find them pass-coded.