Page 32 of Hating the Boss

“E-excuse me?” I asked.

“For the car. My appointment is at 10 a.m.”

“Right. Of course.” I walked toward his desk, and took the keys from him, careful not to let our skin meet. I couldn’t handle that feeling right now, not when I knew it wasn’t shared. That prickly, anticipatory feeling that warmed and chilled my skin at the same time.

“It’s in Spot 1. Don’t crash it,” he muttered as I walked toward the office door.

With my back to him, I rolled my eyes.

Down in the parking garage, my confidence in my driving skills was quickly squashed when I saw his blacked-out Mercedes convertible parked perfectly between the lines of his parking spot. I hadn’t had to drive since before moving to New York City. That was the beauty of public transport.

I unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat. I messed with the buttons to my left, trying to adjust the seat to my height. Then I adjusted all the mirrors. My heart was beating in my throat as if I was doing a safety check on a helicopter. Finally, I turned the car on, the engine coming to life with a purr that reverberated through me.

An acoustic song came on. Soft vocals and the strum of a guitar coming through the speakers. It felt oddly personal to know what kind of music he listened to. I turned it down slightly, carefully reversed the car out of the spot, and drove it out of the garage.

After panicking for a few minutes in the throes of yellow cabs and pedestrians, I settled into the seat comfortably and loosened my death grip on the steering wheel. I was driving Brad Ashcroft’s car. It smelled like him. Even with the wind whipping through my hair, I could still smell that warm citrus smell. I smiled to myself, as the leather warmed up against the back of my thighs.

I made it to the dealership in one piece, leaving it there after the service desk said it would be a couple of hours. I could knock out my errands on foot. Or by cab. Now that I had a business card to charge cab fare to and these five-inch heels, I opted for a yellow cab that was about to pass.

Three hours later, I had been all over Manhattan. Upper East Side. Lower West Side. Even though I had cabbed pretty much everywhere, my feet were screaming and I was starving. It felt like I had accomplished a week’s worth of errands in just a few hours. I picked up Brad’s car from the dealership, sad to find it no longer smelled of him, but of new car. I drove it back to the office and carefully parked it in his spot, trying to get it as even as he had between the white lines.

When I came back to his office, he was on the phone, his back turned to me as he faced the amazing view of Central Park. I placed his keys on his desk, making him turn at the sound. He continued listening to whoever was on the other end of the call, letting his eyes do the talking as they roamed over me. My heart skipped several beats and my cheeks felt flushed.

“Lunch,” he whispered, breaking the spell, as he covered the receiver of the phone.

“Oh, right.” I nodded, remembering the sticky note of his lunch order.

I returned thirty minutes later with an Italian sub, a bag of kettle chips, and a Coke. Still on the phone, Brad handed me another sticky note.

Buy AA batteries.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. Surely, this man could afford to have something like this delivered. I held my tongue and walked back out the door, armed with more errands and to-dos that I hadn’t finished yet.

Several hours later, I returned to the office. Sweaty, feet sore, my straightened hair now curling at the end with the heat and humidity. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t really complain, could I? The man was paying me a million dollars.

I reminded myself of that, and the fact the workday was almost over, as I pressed the button for the elevator. As I waited for the doors to open, my phone dinged. I slid it out of my purse.

Brad: Need coffee. Go to Café Lola.

I groaned. That coffee shop was several blocks away. With my arms full of bags from doing Brad’s shopping for him, I headed back out the large glass doors for what I hoped would be my last errand of the day.

Chapter 14 Brad

I watched as Sarah walked back out on the sidewalk, clearly frustrated by the annoyed look on her face. Her arms were draped with paper bags from the various shopping errands I had sent her out on today. All of it was just fluff, nothing that really needed to be done. I didn’t really need the AA batteries. I just wanted to test her. See how far I could push her.

As if making her jump out of a plane 10,000 feet in the air yesterday hadn’t been enough.

In reality, we hadn’t had any time in the office together for me to see how she was as a personal assistant. Her first day here, I had been at the club where she brought my dry cleaning. The second day, yesterday, we were in New Jersey. Now, it was just a normal day in the office, but I had no intention of working alongside her with the exorbitant amount of errands I had written out on Post-its.

A system she clearly undervalued, but was probably unaware was just another test. I knew how to work a damn computer. I knew how to use a digital calendar. The sticky notes were just to piss her off.

I had been tempted to trash them all when she walked in wearing that dress this morning. It was a color that was made for her. A mix of royal blue and navy. A perfect combination of jewel tones against her fair skin. Skin that she was showing off today with the plunge of fabric that revealed the inner curves of her ample breasts. It was like she was begging for me to look, and I couldn’t help but appease her when my eyes wandered down the length of her neck and further down. Had she smiled at my wandering gaze? My cock had twitched against my pants, and I was more than thankful for the desk that separated us.

It was like she was testing me.

But this was my test.

Which was why, during my meeting with accounting down on the second floor, when I saw Sarah making her way back to the office through the window, I texted her about the coffee. Just one more button to push. I didn’t really need the coffee, let alone one from a specific café that wasn’t convenient for her. Although a cappuccino did sound good right about now.