(Not) The Boss of Me - Kenzie Reed Page 0,94

of dating now, and if he wants to call off dinner I’ll understand.” I wince. Sure as shooting, it’s going to cost me that stupid doll, but I’ve been lied to by dates a time or two, and it never feels good.

It takes me half an hour to shoo everyone out of the apartment. When I get to my office – or rather Shanice’s office, where I seem to have taken up long-term occupancy – I’ve got a mile-long list of tasks waiting for me, as always.

I shoot Blake a quick message.

How many ties does one man actually need? Are you going to tie them all together and scale a wall or something? Whatever, I’ll have them delivered to your house before noon. And thanks for the gorgeous clothing, but we need to set some rules when it comes to extravagant gifts.

I don’t hear back from him, but that’s not surprising. The closer we get to Popup Palooza, the busier he’s getting. Around noon, I send him a message.

You asked for a new cummerbund but didn’t specify the occasion. You’re slipping. Don’t feel bad, we all get senile in the end.

Half an hour later, lunch shows up on my desk, delivered by a guy from the cafeteria. Pasta, fruit salad, latte…nothing with peaches. I guess now that he knows the truth about my peach aversion, he’ll move on to other harassment tactics.

As I eat lunch, I check my inter-office message program and see he hasn’t replied yet to either of my messages. That’s weird. Even though he schedules his day down to the microsecond, he never lets more than half an hour go by without sending me a snarky comeback to my emails.

Then again, he did basically toss a grenade into his precious schedule on Saturday night and Sunday morning, so he’s probably just playing catch-up.

So why do I feel a sudden chill sweeping over me?

By six o’clock, my nerves are jangling. I send him the least snarky message I’ve ever emailed.

Don’t want to pester you, I know you’re very busy. Did you get my messages? Send proof of life.

Half an hour later…nothing. And it’s time to go home, because I’m done for the day. I’ve gotten crazy-efficient at running his errands. I’ve had to, as a survival instinct. Yes, he’s gotten more reasonable now that he’s no longer openly trying to sabotage me, but he’s still a hard taskmaster.

Hard taskmaster. A giggle bubbles up inside me as I think those words. Because I’ve got the maturity of a middle schooler, and the phrase summons up images of me bent over his desk, with him thrusting into me from behind.

And then the image fades, and I feel a little worried. I can’t deny it. It’s not so much that I haven’t heard a word from him since Sunday morning, it’s that it’s completely out of character for him. Is he all right? Surely I’d have heard if he’d fallen down an escalator or had some tragic mannequin-related accident.

Finally, I grab my purse and head out the door. Isabella’s working tonight, so I don’t have anyone to complain to. My mother can’t know that Blake and I are dating, much less that he hasn’t called in a couple of days. She’d find a way to get his number and she’d call him and demand to know why he hadn’t called me. Jemma would threaten to shatter his kneecaps, Clarita would tell her nephews and they’d form a posse to take him down, and Edna would bombard me endlessly with dairy-related commentary.

So as I lounge around that evening, I pour out my unhappiness to Xena. She thumps her tail sympathetically. Men, amirite? That seems to be the message she’s telegraphing from her big brown eyes.

“He’ll call me.”

She makes what could be interpreted as a skeptical snorting sound.

“He will. You shut up.” I scowl at her. “You’re just being bitchy because I have to rehome you yet again. I hate it. I’m sorry, it totally bites. Don’t worry, though, you won’t be out on the street. Not on my watch. I’ll find you someplace awesome.”

My work phone rings, and I scrabble to grab it. Finally!

But it’s just Ariel. “Do you have any idea why Thérèse is quitting?”

She what now? “I didn’t even know she was,” I say in dismay. “I was in my own little bubble today, but I’m surprised the gossip didn’t travel upstairs. Maybe she’s retiring?”

“She actually tried to keep it quiet. Word’s just starting to get out. She gave Blake

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