Grumpy Boss by Hamel, B. (best non fiction books to read TXT) 📗

her mouth to say something—then her jaw fell open when I moved down to grip her ass. I held it there, squeezing just a little bit, before moving my hand back up.

“Don’t flip,” I said, leaning my lips down near her ear.

“You just grabbed my ass,” she hissed. “In the middle of that room. Kevin probably saw it.”

“Good,” I said. “Kevin will spread this little rumor around, that I’m sleeping with my assistant. And there are three other finance people in here, each of them will back his story up. This’ll help combat the Giana rumors and cement our fake relationship in the world.”

“You asshole,” she said, walking stiffly, but she didn’t pull away.

She knew this was part of the deal, even if she didn’t like it. We had to make this fake thing seem real—and grabbing her ass in a club was definitely one way to go about it. There were other, less physical ways, but those tended to be very boring.

We moved through the loud downstairs then out into the night. We passed the long line of people waiting to get inside—and I recognized some of their faces, still exhausted, still hopeful that if only they could get inside, then their lives would be fun again. I wished I could tell them, inside was no better than anywhere else.

Millie turned to face me as soon as we were past the line. She got very close, and for one brief, exciting second I thought she might try and kiss me. Instead, she punched me in the arm very hard.

“Next time you grab my ass, I’m hitting you in the dick,” she said.

I laughed, rubbing my shoulder. “You’ve got a good right hook.”

“Don’t forget it.” She glared at me, and that only made me more excited for some reason. Pissing her off was fun, and feeling her tight ass was even better, so if I had to avoid some dick punches in the future, so be it. I could handle that.

She whirled and stormed off, and I followed after her, still grinning to myself.

9

Millie

I kept thinking about Rees’s palm squeezing my ass in a room full of rich people.

My immediate reaction was disturbing. Instead of being angry, some stupid, primal part of my brain sent excitement endorphins rushing through my bloodstream, and I wanted him to do it again, but harder. And then I realized what had happened, and the anger started.

I understood what he was going for, but still. We had a deal, and nowhere in that deal did it mention the occasional groping. The bastard acted like he hated everyone and everything, including me half the time, but then suddenly he wants to feel me up, like he can’t get enough. And that dumb smile on his face the rest of the night—I wished I’d hit him in the balls to start with instead of that warning shot to the arm.

He slept on the couch that night, and I got the big bed. In the morning, we were up early, and out the door with time to spare. Judith met us outside the Lady’s hotel, wearing big, chunky sunglasses her hair in a messy bun, though her clothes were immaculate—black slacks and a white flowing blouse.

“You’re late,” she said, looking at her watch.

“It’s six fifty,” Rees said, not bothering to double check. “I’m early.”

“Early is late. Come on.” Judith whirled around and stormed back toward the lobby.

“I thought you were friends with Lady Fluke,” I said, falling in beside Rees.

“I was,” he said. “I think I still am.”

“So why does Judith act like you don’t know her at all.”

“The Lady is very difficult sometimes,” he said, glancing down at me. I wondered if he kept thinking about his palm on my ass, just like I was. “When you’re out, you’re very much out. It doesn’t matter if we’d shown up an hour early, she would still be annoyed.”

The lobby was a glittering marble-fueled mish-mash of opulence and wealth. There were few people lounging on the chairs and couches, and Judith steered us past the front desk and into a large dining room. More people sat at the tables: well-tanned man in boat shoes and expensive-looking shirts, and women with more jewels on their throats than I’d ever seen in my life.

Tucked up in the far corner was a tall woman, light brown hair down around her shoulders, sitting straight-backed, a scowl on her lips. She was in her fifties at least, wore minimal makeup, and a very tasteful, and very expensive seeming pantsuit in a soft pink.

“She’s in a good mood,” Judith hissed at Rees, pulling her sunglasses off. “So you’re lucky. You have ten minutes. Don’t waste it.”

He ignored her and approached the woman. She stared up at him, a frown on her face, and he bowed slightly at the waist, holding out a hand.

“You’re as radiant as always,” he said.

Lady Fluke rolled her eyes and took his palm. He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them, barely a brush against her skin.

“And you’re still full of it, Rees,” she said, her voice a lilting English accent. “Who did you bring with you? Is this the pop star?”

“Please, Lady,” he said. “You know what Giana looks like. This is my assistant, Millie.” He released her hand and she folded them in her lap.

“A new assistant then,” she said, glancing at me. “Pretty. And young. Where’d you find her?”

“My cousin recommended her to me.” He sat down and I took the chair next to him. Judith disappeared back the way we’d come, and left us alone at the table with the Lady.

She seemed very unhappy to see Rees, even though she must’ve known that the whole Giana thing was fake by now. Her back remained straight, and she drank her tea with small, dainty sips, like even the act of bringing cup to mouth was too crass for her. Rees folded his hands on the table in front of him, and I tried to mirror