Office Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 4

  Do I hear angels singing? I should’ve earned my wings and a halo by now. Always wanted one of those.

  Ruby pauses her grand speech and sighs. “Look, if she can’t last six months at this purry...purry-purrniture place, or whatever the hell it’s called, how long do you think she’ll make it as your EA? What if she snaps right here in the office like she did at the park? What if she flips out on a client?”

  I shrug. “So we’ll strip the K-cup machines from the break rooms and ban cinnamon in this office.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” she groans. “I’ll be hiring someone else in two weeks anyway. You know I can do it. I already had several interviews lined up. Grow some patience. Wait until we find someone who can actually handle the job.”

  “Why waste applicants’ time when we’ve found our girl?”

  Ruby’s face drains pale. “She spit on you. For all we know, she’ll laugh in our faces before she’s even invited for an interview. What makes you think she wants to work here?”

  “She’ll do it for the pay,” I say, drumming my fingers on my desk. “Oh, and the little hint she slipped about losing her position with the illustrious pet company.”

  “Magnus Heron, I’ve known you for almost twenty years. If you’ve ever listened to me a day in your life, do it now. You’re making a bad move. This conversation started out dumb and just kept getting dumber. Do not do this. Just don’t. Okay?”

  I lean forward and pick a pen up from my desk. I click the ballpoint in and out several times and sigh. Pretending to consider her request.

  Maybe I really should.

  Ruby is one of the few people I can count on to be straight with me. She wouldn’t have told me how stupid this is just for sport.

  “Why are you so against it? This is hardly the most scandalous idea I’ve ever proposed.”

  She purses her lips tighter and looks annoyed.

  “I can see the dilemma on your face and it has nothing to do with hiring her,” she says softly, shaking her head. “Look, I’m not going to judge you for what happens outside this office. Hunt the woman down. Take her out. Take her to bed. Do whatever it is you want to do. But for God’s sake, don’t put her on payroll.”

  My gut tightens and my fingers pinch the pen.

  “Again, I’m not my—”

  “Right. You’re not him. But you don’t need the temptation. If something happens, I know better than anyone that you’d never forgive yourself. This is nothing but playing with fire.”

  I snort. “How did you keep a straight face while saying that?”

  “I’m the one who’ll be interviewing for a new assistant in two weeks, remember?”

  “You’re right. This is a horrible idea. Here’s a better one—run a new ad for a Human Resources Director, and you can be my new executive assistant.”

  “No. No way in hell I’d ever be your EA.” She shakes her head furiously. “If you paid me three times my current salary, I wouldn’t do it. Not for all the money in the world.”

  “Come on, Ruby. I need someone I can count on. We haven’t found the right person. You don’t like the talent I scouted. You’ve worked here for eighteen years. Take one for the team.”

  She glares at me. “You didn’t find any talent. You found a bad-tempered Siren in the park who probably has a nice ass.”

  “Hire her and you’ll find out you’re wrong. If she doesn’t make it a month, I’ll give you a bonus for having to re-interview candidates.”

  Ruby flashes a fake, acrid smile.

  “How generous.” She pauses, and the faux smile disappears. “I’ll offer her the job, assuming she holds it together during the interview, but I can’t make her take it. I probably wouldn’t want to work for someone I spit on either. Most people wouldn’t.”

  “If it seems like she’s not going to take it, call me. I’ll let her know I’m doing her a favor by hiring her after that scene. Ask Hugo, he thinks I should’ve called the cops.”

  Ruby throws her hands up.

  “Oh my God, Mag. She was sitting on a public bench. She was right to tell you where to go. I would have too. I wish the cops had shown up and given you an earful. You can’t just chase people off of city property even if you are Magnus Heron.”

  I grin at her. “I can. I did.”

  She turns away from me and steps closer to the door, flashing a disgusted look.

  “Whatever. But the one thing you can’t do is bully anyone onto your payroll.” She turns, giving me an annoyed glance. “I’m not just here to fill positions, you know. I’m also saving your ass from making moves that could tank this whole company.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “To call a twenty-three-year-old with barely any corporate experience and invite her to interview for a position she’s completely unqualified for. Where else?”

  “How do you know she’s unqualified again? You’re being biased under your own HR rules. You haven’t even talked to her yet, and you already know she isn’t competent!” I call after her.

  Ruby scowls at me. “I didn’t call the girl incompetent. I said unqualified. When I’m looking for an EA for you, I don’t interview people with less than ten years experience, a damn good cover letter, and multiple verifiable references. I interview assistants for the rest of your C-level team with five years of experience, and also, you’re biased. You’ve decided to give her a job because...she spit on you.”

  “Don’t forget the nice ass,” I say, just to tease her.

  “You’re a horrible, horrible man. And nothing about spitting says she handles pressure well, you know. Some of your clients are right next to you in the Genghis Khan department, maybe even worse. Are you okay with her spitting on them too?” Ruby asks.

  “I deal with the clients.”

  Ruby rolls her eyes. “Right, and your assistant never has to.”

  “She may, but I’ll always be present in those meetings at least for the first six months. I’ll keep it controlled and teach her how to deal with their nuances before I’d ever send her off alone.”

  Ruby laughs. More than a snicker, breaking into a holding-her-sides-in belly-busting giggle.

  “What?”

  “She won’t survive six months. You’ve had one assistant fall just short of that mark in all these years, and it wasn’t a twenty-three-year-old with some Photoshop experience and a Fine Arts degree.” She opens the door, beyond ready to walk out.

  “Ruby.” I almost forgot there’s something else I need to tell her.

  “What?” she asks.

  “Contact the casting company we used for today’s promo shoot and tell them not to send that model again. Sylvia whatever-her-face.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “The shoot went okay, right? Hugo didn’t mention anything going wrong with the campaign.”

  “Her work was fine, but...she hit on me. Several times.”

  “That’s it?” Ruby laughs. “Oh my God, you can’t spend two hours a day in the gym and blame a woman for being human.”

  “She touched me in front of the whole crew.” I shake my head.

  “The horror!” She slaps her cheek and gazes at me in mock-revulsion.

  “It’s too much. You know why I don’t need those antics around here, and I prefer to pay people who focus on work. I hire professionals and I expect the same quality from our contractors.”

  “Right. Professionals.” She walks out. “Just like the girl who glazed your shoes...”

  The door shuts before I can quip back.

  Typical Ruby.

  What a bizarre day. I never should’ve allowed the schedule to become so crunched that we were desperate to shoot before dusk, but managing the workload with no assistant has been rough the past few weeks.

  Rash decisions aren’t my habit. It’s unlike me to randomly hire someone off the streets.

  Maybe Ruby’s right, and I’m making a blinding mistake. It can’t hurt to bring her in for an interview, though. If we see red flags, we can always hit the b
rakes.

  One thing I can say for certain, no human being has ever spit on me before, and I don’t know why I can’t get that out of my head. I fucking need to.

  Checking my schedule, I’m relieved to see no crucial meetings in the next few hours.

  I kick my shoes off, put them away, strip out of my suit, hang it in the closet, and change into sweats before I hit the company weight room. Lifting heavy shit until I can’t should get that brunette medusa out of my head and whip my thoughts into shape.

  If Sabrina Bristol is a walking, sassing, spitting mistake—notice I didn’t say one word about the fantastic ass—then I’ll figure it out before she’s one more cog in my well-oiled machine.

  3

  Punked! (Sabrina)

  The next day, Saturday the fourteenth, I hunker down in bed watching Schitt’s Creek—okay, it’s not the best show but I could use a laugh—when Paige comes in and flops down beside me.

  “You can’t hide in here all day,” she says, throwing me a smile.

  I hug my pillow. “Wanna bet?”

  “It’s past noon.”

  “Oh, I’ll get up eventually,” I groan, checking the time and wincing when I see she’s right. “I promised my parental units I’d head over since I didn’t make it yesterday.”

  “Let’s grab lunch, then I’ll drop you off at their place before I head for the studio.”

  I love Paige, but sometimes she’s clueless.

  “I can’t do lunch. Remember that whole pink slip thing?” I leave the I’m broke part unspoken.

  “I’ll pay for it, girl. You need a pick-me-up and I need to revisit that cute Italian place we like. I’ve got your back and I don’t want to eat alone.”

  My stomach rumbles, shoving aside the guilt over Paige covering me with thoughts of chicken parm and fettuccine, which beats instant ramen by miles.

  “I’m not a bum,” I tell her. “As soon as I’ve landed something else, I’ll—”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’ll pay back every dime.” Paige picks up a pillow and hits me playfully with it. “I’ve heard it all before. Now quit being humble and let’s get some food before I chew my arm off.”

  Fine, she’s convinced me.

  It’s a beautiful fall day with the warm sun peeking out behind the clouds, not too much wind, and trees lit up in their autumn best like candles with dancing flames of color for leaves. We sit on the front patio facing the sidewalk at the corner bistro, Mattarello’s Italiano.

  Paige takes a slurp off her San Pellegrino. “So how’d it go with that dude you met at the coffee shop yesterday?”

  I groan. “Oh, Brad the Unfriendly Ghost? I waited for nearly an hour and the loser never showed.”

  I snap my breadstick in half.

  “Sorry, Brina. Tough day. But you survived and now it’s the fourteenth! Better day, better times, better men.”

  I shrug, popping the garlic bread into my mouth. “Screw dating. I’m more worried about finding another job than anything else, honestly. I wish there was like, a Tinder of jobs. You know that’d be awesome...or horrifying.”

  We share a laugh.

  Enough rambling. I pick at my fettuccine once the steaming dish slides in front of me. This bowl is huge. I’m definitely taking at least half of it home. It’s another meal I don’t have to pay for, or maybe two if I skimp.

  “Oh, but you know what happened after I got blown off?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “I decided to have my coffee in the park to unwind. There was this big-shot film crew there shooting a fashion ad or something. They said I was in their way.”

  “Too bad, so sad.” Paige takes a bite of her fried ravioli. “Just when you think you’ve met the biggest prick in this city driving in rush hour traffic...”

  “That’s what I said until this hot jerk—”

  Oops. I stop mid-sentence, realizing I’ve slipped.

  A slow catlike grin grows across Paige’s face. “A hot jerk? Go on.”

  “I mean, his looks don’t really matter. Hot bod, nasty personality. He was a raging grumpasaurus in a suit. Anyway, he tells me if I don’t move, he’s going to move me.” I watch Paige’s eyes go huge. “Uhh—yeah, right. Then he stops just short of mocking me to my face for working at a pet furniture company...which I guess is pretty sad. But not as pathetic as being fired.”

  “God. The idiots you meet downtown could run their own circus.” She shakes her head, her gold locks tumbling around her shoulders. “But if you just met him at the park, how’d he know where you worked? That’s weird.”

  “Well, I took my prints before Purry Furniture kicked me out, hoping to boost my portfolio. I dropped my folder while he was busy pissing me off, and the cards spilled out.”

  “Eek,” she winces. “So, he saw your stuff?”

  “Yeah. Let’s just say he wasn’t a fan.”

  “What an asswaffle. Tell me you didn’t just sit there and take his tantrum?” She takes another bite.

  “Oh, no. I, uh...I kinda spit up the last of my cinnamon latte all over his shoes. Intentionally. He kept barking at me to move, and I said I would when I finished my coffee, so...I finished.”

  “No freaking way. You didn’t!” Paige tumbles back in her seat, hiding her face behind her hands as she laughs. “Oh my God, that’s awesome.”

  I flash her an awkward smile. Not my proudest moment, to be sure, but there’s no denying how good it felt to give Lucifer an ego check.

  “You look worried,” Paige says, as soon as she can breathe again. “Don’t be. You don’t have to see him again. He got what was coming. It’s not like he’s going to track you down and press charges.”

  “Yeah, let’s hope not. How are things going for you?” I ask, desperate to shift the conversation.

  “Pretty well! I made enough off a website build last week for the interior design firm that I have next month’s rent banked. That’s a good thing because clients come and go. Oh, and you know my cousin, Liv? She commissioned me for this.”

  Paige holds up her phone with a glowing photo of a man’s face half sculpted. He’s older, kinda handsome, beardy, and gives off the big daddy vibe.

  “You’ve come a long way. I remember when your sculptures looked more like horror movie material,” I say with a smile. “Who’s the hot stuff?”

  “That’s her husband, Riker. It’s supposed to be a big surprise for Christmas when I mail her the finished bust. If I’d snagged a guy like him, I’d probably be commissioning art too, but...we can’t all be famous authors who marry alpha security guys.”

  “Your family’s so interesting. A bestselling author and an infamous pop star.” I wish her cousin would give my mother some writing advice.

  I try to smile. Why can’t my life be more like hers?

  “Interesting shoes to fill, you mean. Don’t think I’ll ever catch up to Liv and Milah,” she says, this sad, anxious flicker in her eyes before she turns back into easygoing Paige with the sunshine smile again. “Tell me about your other Tinder matches, though? Besides the no-show.”

  I wave my hand like I can push the question away.

  “Please. Before the guy who ghosted me, I had dinner with a match. He ordered a forty-dollar steak and forgot his wallet.”

  Her mouth drops. “Did you pay?”

  “What else could I do? So now I’m down to dregs in my checking account.”

  “I would’ve told the waitress to separate the check, paid for my dinner, left the loser, and called an Uber,” she says smugly.

  She’s right, of course.

  Paige is too good at navigating these sticky life situations, even if her own life is far from perfect, which is probably why she has a booming bank account and I have crickets in mine. Even without her affluent folks behind her, helping fund her sculpture kick, I think she’d have her crap together in a way I still dream about.

  My phone buzzes against the table, and I pick it up. Glaring at the screen, I shake my head and gulp down my hard tea.


  “What is it?” Paige asks, noticing my expression.

  “His company just emailed me for a second time. I don’t get it. It’s some kind of sick joke.”

  “Whose company?” she asks.

  “The jerk from the park. With my luck, he’s probably trying to get my address so he can send me a bill for his stupid shoes.” I swipe away the email on the screen like I’m shooing off a fly.

  “He can’t be that nuts, right?” She laughs at my glare. “What does this email say?”

  “They want me to discuss a ‘promising—’” I put finger quotes around ‘promising.’ “'Opportunity' with their lead HR representative. Yeah, I don’t buy it, either.”

  “Are you sure it’s his company? If you need a job, I wouldn’t turn down any interviews.”

  “Believe me, I was surprised when I got an interview request with a company I hadn’t even applied for, so I went to their website. Sure enough, he’s the CEO. It’s got to be a joke. Maybe one of the people on his crew trying to punk me for the fun of it. Sweet revenge.”

  “What’s the name of the company?” she asks.

  “Heron Communications,” I say. “HeronComm for short, I think.”

  Paige pulls out her phone and Googles it with her brows pulled tight. She holds the phone out for me to see their team directory page, complete with smiling photos. “Which one’s your park prick?”

  I point to the hottest guy on the flipping page, who else?

  “Hello, gorgeous! Magnus Heron, huh? What a name,” she mutters, an amused smile hanging on her lips. “Actually, that sounds weirdly familiar...you said he owns the company, right?”

  “Yep. Typical spoiled gazillionaire. Why do they think owning a company entitles them to ruling the rest of the world?”

  Paige’s fingers fly against her phone and she stops and reads the screen for a moment. “Dude. He is a jackass—it’s not just you.”