Boss I Love to Hate An Office Romance - Mia Kayla Page 0,36

fell back against the couch. This deal with Brad was equivalent to making a deal with the devil.

Maybe I could hire a stripper from one of those sites. I did have savings in a CD, but then again, there would be penalties if I took out the money.

I took off my glasses and rubbed at my eyes, resting one elbow on my knee. I didn’t know what was more embarrassing: when I’d sat on ketchup and walked around half the day—to the office, to the restaurant, to run Brad’s errands and mine after work—and no one told me I had something red on my skirt, people probably thinking it was period stains or now.

“You already know how embarrassing this is, but I’ll be more humiliated if I show up, dateless, while he has America’s Next Top Model on his arm.”

The couch indented from the weight of him, and I lifted my head and slipped on my glasses. He smiled that devilish smile that would look good on his face at the wedding.

Then, he straightened my glasses. “He broke your heart?”

I groaned. “Yes, okay?” I decided this was more embarrassing than the ketchup-stain incident.

“All right then.” He shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ll go.”

Wait. What?

I did a double take, shot upright, and held my breath. “Really?”

His smirk only grew. “A deal is a deal. Plus, I enjoy saving the day.”

I blinked up at him, and when he playfully bumped his shoulder against mine, I was convinced that crossing this secretary-boss line would be okay. And who knew? Maybe, after all of this was over, I’d dislike him less.

Chapter 8

Sonia

“Hey, you coming with me today?” I peeked into Brad’s office.

Over the past week, he’d been coming with me to eat lunch. Oddly enough, I had been introducing him to places that he’d never gone to before, which had surprised me because, working downtown all his adult life, he’d never been to some of the greatest places I’d ever eaten at.

At lunch, he let loose. We were civil, and he gave me hope that we could pull off the wedding-date thing.

“Not today. Busy.” His tone was short, curt. He didn’t peek up from his computer.

I sighed. Just when I was starting to like him.

Mason was back and splitting niece duty, and Brad was back to his typical, annoying self at work. Maybe he was just a hangry man, and he needed to be fed.

“I’ll grab your regular and bring it back.”

I turned to leave when he said, “They’re coming to pick us up at seven.”

“What? Who?”

“My personal shopper.” He lifted his eyes to mine while his hands tapped against his keyboard.

I blinked once. Is he joking?

He cocked his head. “Shopping. Personal shopper. Wedding suit shopping. Didn’t you see my note on your desk?”

I glanced back behind me at my desk and then threw up both hands. “What note?”

Standing, he strode past me and went straight to my desk. He lifted the keyboard where a small piece of paper was placed, no bigger than two inches by one inch. He shoved it my way, the tiny piece of paper between his index and middle finger.

I huffed and then grabbed it from him, reading it aloud. “Shopping tonight. Seven p.m.” I looked up at him. “I can’t tonight.” For the sole reason that he was being super annoying. You’d think he would’ve mentioned it earlier than today, yesterday perhaps, or maybe he could’ve written it on a bigger piece of paper that was in plain sight.

“She’s paid by the hour.” Then, he stalked back toward his office, conversation over, as usual.

My hands fisted at my sides, posture stiff, corded neck. I wondered how I’d be able to get through two whole dates with him without wanting to stuff him in a body bag.

I forced myself to loosen.

This is for me, I reminded myself. For me.

“How do you know I don’t have plans?” I argued.

He spun around and smiled. “Do you?”

A-hole. “No.” For once, I wished I had the superpower to lie without my face giving it away—or, really, I wished I had plans. Real plans. Why couldn’t I have plans?

I followed him back into his office, preparing for another argument.

“Well then.” He sat behind his desk, leaving me an annoyed and a confused mess.

“Don’t you have a suit? Any suit will do.”

And why did I have to go with him? I wasn’t his mom. I didn’t need to approve his choice of clothing. We weren’t a real couple, and I was not