Breaking up with My Boss - Alexis Winter Page 0,13
because real men don’t stand a chance next to the fictional characters you’re dreaming about.”
I laugh. “Oh, we know real men can’t compete. That’s why we read them. It’s nice to dream, right?”
He shrugs. “I prefer to dream about things that may actually happen one day.”
“Like what? What do you dream about that can happen in real life?”
He keeps his eyes on the road. “I don’t know. Finding love—real love. Not someone who’s only interested in my money or social status. Getting married, starting a family . . . the classic dream, I guess.”
“Well, I suppose all that’s good, but don’t you like to imagine? To just let your thoughts carry you away into something you know isn’t possible? I mean, dreaming is the only way you can experience those things.”
He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “I guess we’re just two very different people. I prefer to keep things real while you like spending your time in la-la land.”
I snort. “How is it possible for two people to be so different?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer, and that effectively ends our conversation.
We make it to the office and Matthew and I are walking in together just as Daniel walks out of his office. He smirks. “Poppy, it’s nice to see you again so soon after your recent . . . outburst,” he says with a chuckle.
I frown at him. “Did you have something to do with this?” I ask, putting my hand on my hip as I study him.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he says as his eyes move from Matthew, to me, and back.
Matthew brushes past him. “Daniel, do you mind if we talk in my office?”
“Sure,” Daniel agrees, looking at me as if he’s trying to figure out what the hell is going on around here.
He turns and heads into the office, leaving me alone to get things started for the day. I turn on my phone as my computer boots up, then I start pulling files. To my surprise, there aren’t a ton of emails from him with lists of things to do, but I guess I kept him pretty busy last night between the move, dinner, and our argument. Maybe he just didn’t have time to work. So while I wait, I decide to clean up around the office—wiping down the coffee station, cleaning the public restroom, and taking out the trash.
When lunch rolls around, I’m surprised when he leaves his office and stops at my desk. “Ready?” he asks.
“Ready for . . . ?” I let my sentence drop off. He’s never come to my desk to leave his lunch order. He’s always made me go to him.
“To go to lunch. I have reservations.”
“Oh. For the both of us?” I ask, still confused.
He lets out a deep chuckle. “Of course. I’ll take any excuse I can get to spend time with my fiancée throughout the day.”
Oh, I see. He’s just wanting to do more interrogation. But whatever. At least I get to leave the office to enjoy some fancy rich-people food. I grab my purse and follow him to the door. I’m pleasantly surprised when he opens it and allows me to walk through first. “Thank you,” I say, passing by him.
He takes ahold of my elbow and guides me across the street to the parking garage. At his car, he opens my door and allows me to slide inside. Finally, he climbs behind the wheel.
“Okay, what’s going on? Are you trying to trick me or something?” I ask, suddenly waiting for the ball to drop.
He looks at me, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” I motion between us. “You’re never this nice to me. So what’s up?”
He takes a deep breath and starts the car. “I just figured that if I really want to pull this off and sell that we’re a real couple, we need to get to know one another. And being assholes to each other is only going to hinder that. We need to put our egos aside and get to business.”
“And by get to business you mean . . . ?”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed that I’m not keeping up with the conversation. “I mean we need to treat each other better. Get comfortable as a couple so we don’t have to try so hard when we’re in public. This is our test. If we can get along throughout lunch—look like a real couple in love who are about to get