Boss I Love to Hate An Office Romance - Mia Kayla Page 0,35

at the way the glass flared into an elongated tulip-like bowl. “And …” I swallowed again. “… I kind of need a date.” I dared to peer up at the amused look on his face.

Great.

His smirk was devilish, and there was that mischievous twinkle in his eye. “So, that’s all the mystery?” He took a long sip of his wine, never breaking eye contact. “Why me?”

I blew out a breath and looked at anywhere but him. “Well, I can’t just bring anybody to this wedding. I need a …” It was getting hot in here. I adjusted the neck of my purple silk shirt, feeling the heat rise up my cheeks and to the tips of my ears. “I need a good-looking date.”

His smirk widened. “Is that so?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you going to make this more difficult than it is?” With Brad, it was better to get to the point. “My ex-boyfriend is going to be there.”

“Okay, so you’re using me to get him back.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I mean, I don’t know.” My voice wavered, and I pushed a hand through my hair, frustrated. “He has a girlfriend already, a very pretty one, and … and I don’t want to look like a loser, okay?” I leaned back on my chair, already feeling defeated. “You already know I’m desperate if I have to ask you.” I hated that I was in this situation, yet here I was, begging the boss I disliked to be my date.

For a beat, the room was silent, and my cheeks burned. I couldn’t believe I had to degrade myself to this. If I had the money, I would just hire a date. I’d hit an ultimate low this time.

I poured myself another glass of wine because it was needed. Then, I chugged a big gulp back. I was past the sipping-wine stage at this point.

When I glanced up at him, I watched him sip his glass, and then he tipped his chin.

“Does this date entail after-wedding activities?” There was that smirk again—the mischievous, I’m up to no good, little-boy smirk.

I coughed, wine spilling on my shirt, and half-laughed. This was the Brad I could handle—the cocky bastard who thought every woman wanted him.

I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “I don’t want to sleep with you.” I made a face. “Like, ever. I just need a date. You’re not even my type.”

He poured himself another glass, watching me with unconvinced eyes. “I’m everyone’s type,” he said.

I cringed and wiggled my whole body as though there were a spider on me. “Sorry, I don’t want what everyone else has already had.”

“For someone who’s asking me for a favor, you’re being awfully mean.” There was no bite behind his voice like he was unaffected.

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry, all right?” I drained the last drop of wine, and I was tempted to ask for my third glass. “The man who broke my heart is taking Barbie to this wedding I’m in, and I don’t want to look like an absolute loser, going stag. I want to show him that I’ve moved on, too.” My fingers pressed against the neck of the glass. With any more pressure, I could break it. Fragile, just like a woman-in-love’s heart.

“And have you?” He placed the glass on the side table and leaned in, resting his forearms on his thighs.

I frowned. “Have I what?”

“Moved on.”

“No.” I cleared my throat. “Well, yes. If you mean moved on as in starting to date other people, I haven’t … yet. But I’m over him.” Why did the words feel so hollow, not real? A tightness formed in the center of my chest every time I thought of Jeff. Did that mean I wasn’t over him?

“So, you can already see where this is going.” I waved a hand, swatting at an invisible fly. “I need a date but not just any date. I need to one-up him, show him that I’m over him. I need you—specifically you because you’re good-looking.” I blew out a breath, happy that it was finally out on the table. “So, what do you say? Two dates.”

“First, one and then two? Aren’t we getting a little greedy now?”

It hadn’t been in the plan from the beginning, but now that I was continuing to do him favors, I wanted a practice run before the real day. “Rehearsal dinner and then the wedding.”

“You think I’m good-looking?” He grinned outright, straight white teeth and all.

Goodness, that was what he’d gotten from my rambling? I