A Very Bossy Christmas - Kayley Loring Page 0,3
to the office party next week.”
“I’m pretty sure you are. Let me just check your schedule. Hang on…” She mimes looking at a schedule on a monitor. “Yup. December 22nd, five to five thirty or later, office holiday party.”
She follows me into my office, shutting the glass door behind her. Those glass walls and doors were my least favorite thing about this office until two months ago.
“Get it off my schedule.”
“I know it may feel like I RSVP’d ‘yes’ in order to punish you, and I’m glad it feels like punishment, but the entire executive team will be in attendance. So I’m actually doing my job and helping you to look like slightly less of a terrible person.”
She places the coffee mug on my desk, on the coaster, leaning forward and exposing just enough bra and cleavage to make a grown man cry. She turns the mug around so the World’s Best Boss text is facing me and winks. I fucking love it when she winks at me. Even when she’s being a sassy little turd.
I take a seat and glower at her. “You’re telling me Shapiro is going to this thing?”
“Yes, the founder and CEO of this company will be attending the festivities along with most of the employees from all of the offices. Including his beloved General Counsel.”
Both hands rest on her hips now, and she sticks her chest out, defiant and hot. Hot and defiant and endlessly problematic. But really hot.
“That is very disappointing. Will you be there? If I have to go, then you do too.”
“Why yes. I and the rest of the executive assistants as well as the entire support staff will be there—thanks for asking!”
“Who’s going to answer the phones? Or are we all hoping to drop off the list of top ten New York real estate firms next year?”
“They’re bringing in temps to cover the phones that day.”
“Thought of everything, huh?”
“Yeah, and I hear they got the deluxe karaoke machine, so…” She smirks at me. That smirk does things to me. That smirk is highly problematic.
“Tell one of the interns to get my car washed.”
“Right away, sir.” She bats her eyelashes.
“But not the one who did it the last time—he’s a smoker. And not the girl who did it the time before that—my car was infused with her perfume for a week, and I did not like it.”
“I’ll be sure to request the one who always gets onion rings at White Castle on his way to the car wash.”
I raise the coffee mug to sniff it. “What is this?”
“A steaming hot cup of the tears of your former assistants.”
“That’s funny, because it smells like pumpkin spice.”
“That’s hilarious, because it’s a pumpkin spice latte.”
“That’s interesting because I only drink black coffee and espresso. You know that.”
“I thought maybe the pumpkin spice would put you in the holiday spirit.”
“Fuck holiday spirit. Fuck pumpkin spice.”
She crosses her arms in front of her ample, problematic chest. “Maybe you should. It would probably put you in a better mood…”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you trying to get yourself fired, Cooper?”
“Yes, but I’m not expecting a Christmas miracle.”
I hand her back the coffee cup. “Please accept this pumpkin spice latte in lieu of said miracle.”
“Blech, no thank you. I hate flavored coffee. Unless it’s, y’know, grown-up coffee.”
Every now and then I detect the slightest hint of Staten Island in the way she talks, and it makes whatever she’s saying sound dirty. And I like it.
She takes a sip of the latte, grimacing. “Blech. Horrible.”
It’s fucking adorable when she wrinkles her nose like that. “Why’d you take a sip if you hate flavored coffee?”
“I thought maybe I’d like this one.”
“Serves you right for being an optimist. I need the contracts for the Branson deal in front of me.”
“Emailed them to you five minutes ago. Would you like me to purchase a Secret Santa gift on your behalf? I’m leaving early this afternoon to take my niece shopping—I can pick something up for you.”
I pull up the email on my computer. She added a winking face emoji to the subject line. “Not necessary.”
“You have to participate, or it isn’t fair to whichever unfortunate soul whose name you drew.”
“I am participating. For your information, I happen to be a world-class gift giver. I will be purchasing it myself.”
I scan the documents and make a couple of notes, but it seems she’s still standing there, staring down at me.
“Anything else?”
“Once again, I would like to request the 25th off so I