Page 465 of Manhattan Bossholes

And that’s when I realized that the man was actually trying to sabotage me. He clearly didn’t like me, and worse, he hated the fact that James had hired me without his approval. Torturing me was a way of getting back at James.

I fumed on my way back to my desk, alternating between trying to come up with a way to complete the impossible task in time, and wishing I could report Clint to someone who mattered. The woman in the HR department who James had finally connected me with—so I could set up my insurance and 401K and everything else that full-time staff got that part-timers in the store didn’t—had acted like the president of the Clint Miller Fan Club. If I went to her, everything I said would probably go straight back to Clint, which would make my life in his department even tougher.

I was stuck, but I refused to let the asshole get the best of me. I threw myself into my chair and opened the files. My eyes started to fill with tears as I realized that finishing in time was impossible, but I blinked them back.

“Natalie…” Clint’s singsong voice drifted across the room.

I felt tension spread across my back as I looked up towards my tormentor. “Yes?”

“I meant to mention that the design pack you sent to me yesterday was in the wrong format.” His voice was loud enough that no one could tune it out. “You need to redo it.”

I’d worked on the pack until midnight the night before it was due, and had even conned Steph into double-checking the thing to ensure that it looked perfect. The program used for design packs was glitchy—crashing whenever you breathed wrong—so I’d been forced to start over a bunch of times. The whole process had been a nightmare, but I’d finished it, and I was proud of what I’d managed to do without any guidance from him. Clint now telling me that I’d done it incorrectly was enough to siphon away any of the calm I’d been working so hard to maintain.

I stood up and slammed my hands onto my drafting table, and every head in the room swiveled to me.

“You didn’t say that it needed to be in a special format, Clint,” I shouted up at him. “I’ve only been here a week and I’ve gotten zero training. You’re setting me up to fail, over and over again!”

My outburst didn’t seem to faze him. Clint shrugged at me. “We hire self-starters. Normally, people can figure it out. But I wasn’t the one who hired you.”

He disappeared from view while I came close to hyperventilating. Lavonte gave me a sympathetic smile from across the room.

Rhea walked in at the end of Clint’s speech, carrying two coffee cups. She detoured to my desk.

“Hey, you okay?” she whispered to me.

I tried to calm myself but it was too late. I was over it, all of it. Working hard yet still being unappreciated. Not getting any guidance. My own boss trying to make me look stupid in front of my colleagues. And being treated like an intern.

“Am I okay? No,” I said. “I just realized that this isn’t going to work.”

Rhea started to say something, but I’d already jumped out of my chair. Nothing she could tell me would change the way I felt, and someone was about to get an earful about it. I stormed towards the elevator, ready to burn the whole place down.

6

JAMES

“Iquit!”

I looked up from my laptop to find a gorgeously disgruntled Natalie Reynolds standing in the center of my office, arms crossed and eyes on fire. Why was it that every time we came into contact with one another she seemed to have her dial turned up to eleven?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I quit. I absolutely cannot work a single day longer for Clint.” She said his name like the word tasted bad.

She started pacing, her heels clicking her unhappiness with every step. I tried to ignore the ways the muscles in her calves worked as she stormed around my office.

“Did he accidentally turn off your key card or something?” I asked, steepling my hands on my desk. “I know you’re sensitive about that.”

Natalie froze and stared at me, her face a mask of fury. “Are you turning this into a joke? I’m trying to discuss a legitimate problem and you’re making fun of me?”

“Not at all,” I said smoothly, hoping she’d take it down a notch. “But you do tend to jump to conclusions. Just trying to figure out what we’re dealing with here. Please, go on, but do me a favor and try not to shout.”

She looked like she was trying to keep from screaming at me. “I feel like you’re dangerously close to telling me to calm down, and if you do, I swear you’ll regret it, boss man,” she seethed.

“Please, I know better than to tell a hysterical woman to calm down,” I replied quickly.

“Hysterical?” It came out in a strangled voice, and I realized I’d fucked up big time. “Is that how you see me?”

Natalie stomped a few steps closer to my desk and I saw the fury in her eyes—but I also saw that she seemed close to tears. My stomach sank as I realized she was genuinely upset. Not just worked up, not just dramatic, but hurt. Something was really wrong, and it was bigger than the beef between us.