Boss I Love to Hate An Office Romance - Mia Kayla Page 0,2
a smart-ass, I pointed to the screen. “There’s an O there. It’s pronounced as pee-O-nees.”
He visibly frowned. “Real funny,” he deadpanned. “Do I look like a florist to you? Just add those flowers to the order.”
“Okay, will do.” I smirked, stepping around his desk.
He waved a hand, dismissing me. “Thanks. Wish me luck tonight.”
Brad didn’t need luck. He’d get laid, and he’d lose interest. It was his MO. And I’d hear about it all the next day because he was a sharer—but only to me, it seemed.
“Make sure you pick up my lunch at Klypso,” he added.
“Already ordered. Is that it?” I lifted an eyebrow.
The sounds of him typing on his keyboard echoed through the room.
“Yeah.” He didn’t even lift his head from the computer.
He was in fine form today. I tried not to roll my eyes as I slowly shut the door and made my way back to my desk.
This is just a job, I reminded myself.
Charles—his brother, the CEO of Brisken Printing Corp.—and Mason—his younger brother and the VP of finance—had hired me over two years prior. They had interviewed me, and I had been told that the job had two main functions. One: keep Brad’s schedule organized and on track. And two: do not sleep with him. It was two requirements that I had to adhere to.
Before me, Brad had gone through six secretaries within six-months. But his inability to keep it professional and their inability to say no were affecting their work, and his schedule was disorganized. It didn’t help that some of those secretaries had gone on a warpath when Brad decided to move on. And he always moved on.
He changed women like he changed the channel—quick and wanting to know if there was something better.
I had been in a serious relationship with Jeff, so that number two rule was a no-brainer. It would not happen. Following rules was built into my DNA, and organization was one of my strong points.
And, although super fine, Brad was not my type.
I was kinda geeky. I embraced the romantic nerd in me. I loved playing Pokémon Go, I read a dangerous amount of romance novels, and I was the biggest Harry Potter Head.
I couldn’t exactly picture Brad watching a marathon of everything on the Hallmark Channel or all seven Harry Potter flicks.
Brad tended to like the girls with the A, B, Cs—ass, boobs, and curves.
And I was five-two, petite, and flat-chested with dark brown hair and glasses because I couldn’t function without them.
It was a match made in secretary-boss heaven. Purely platonic.
No secretary in the whole Chicagoland area made as much as I did. Seriously. I was overpaid but under-laid, which was fine by me. And it was worth it. My friends who had full-time jobs worked a part-time job to make ends meet. Me? I had a one-bedroom condo in walking distance from work in downtown Chicago, and I could only afford it because of my job. Every year, I got a substantial raise and a bonus. It was as if they were increasing my pay exponentially every year I continued to keep my legs closed.
The Brisken brothers paid their employees well, and keeping my panties on meant it would stay like that.
Brad
Maybe Charles was right. I was already tired of the dating game.
Looking at myself in the hotel bathroom mirror, I ran one hand through the top of my dark hair and let out a tired sigh. Tired dark brown eyes stared back at me.
My younger brother, Mason, was in a five-year-long relationship with the epitome of a gold-digging she-devil. When I thought of their relationship, it only confirmed what I never wanted in one of my own.
But my older brother lived in romantic bliss with his second wife, reminding me again how a good relationship should be. Seeing Charles and Becky together changed my mind about relationships.
I wanted what they had and what my parents had—a real relationship with someone I could connect with.
“Come back to bed, baby,” Olivia cooed when I stepped from the bathroom. Her tone increased in pitch, the way women tried to sound cute but weren’t.
I toweled off my wet hair and body, slipped on my black pants, and worked to button my shirt. I stared at her long and hard, trying to force a connection between us, but it simply wasn’t there. “I’m sorry. I have to go. Early morning meeting.”
She’d seemed prettier earlier, but maybe that was because I’d been drinking.