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My Hot Boss
Betty Shreffler
Chapter One
Emma
Ever have one of those moments in your life where you think—This. Is. Not. My. Finest. Moment? Ever since meeting Grayson Cole, that very phrase has gone through my head far too many times. It started with the very first time I met him. My best friend Megan coaxed me, and by coaxed, I mean dragged me off my couch, threw clothes at me and demanded I come out with her or our friendship would irrevocably end. Yep, that’s her. My Megan. A spunktastic, larger than life, bestie with short, jet-black hair and large, brown, doe eyes. Her bold personality either terrifies you or makes you want to cuddle her. There’s no in between.
Three weeks prior, my ex broke up with me. Stupid me never saw it coming. Everything in my mind was fucking fantastic, but then the terrible words dripped from his mouth. “I need some space.” Those words led to him moving out of our apartment the next day while I worked my ass off, unknowing, that the last two years of my life spent building a future with him was now dust in the wind.
Walking into my apartment that afternoon was gut-wrenching. Several calls to his phone led to texts responses of, “We’ve grown apart.” “I love you, but I need to work on me.” “I’ve started seeing someone else.” Shit, that went south fast.
Squeezing my phone in my hand as if I could crush it with pure anger, I slumped against the wall and bawled my eyes out. You know the kind of crying where snot puddles on your upper lip and you can only partially breathe through one nostril. That night I buried my feelings in a whole tub of cookies and cream and then lost all feelings at the bottom of a wine bottle followed by lighting every photo of Derrick and me on fire in my kitchen sink, which may have set off the fire alarm. Ok, that might have been my first—This is not my finest moment.
That all leads to Megan demanding I get beautiful, liquored up, and conquer the battlefield of love again.
Dressed in heels that say—yes, I like to fuck with nothing but these on—completes my pretty, blue, dress and long, loose waves of my chestnut hair.
Inside the bar, Sin, is a decor of black and white with bits of royal blue circles and swirls along the wall. If I stand in the wrong spot, between my dress and the flashing lights, my torso disappears and my head, arms, and legs glow. Not at all conducive to trying to get noticed by the opposite sex.
The bar is my refuge. Megan and I practically race there for different reasons, of course. I need the courage and to forget my lingering sorrow, while she wants to get her dancing legs ready. I finish off my Mojito as she points at potential candidates for me.
“Oh Em, what about that one?” She tilts her glass in the direction of a decent looking guy with a gray suit and perfectly cut hair talking with two of his friends.
A grimace sneaks onto my face.
Megan rolls her eyes below her long, dark lashes. “And what’s wrong with that guy?”
Truth. He isn’t Derrick.
“Girl, I’m telling you, the best way to start getting over Derrick is to find someone that makes you forget all about him.”
“Stay out of my head.”
“You need to stay out of your own head. Here, try this.”
Handing me her drink, she winks and shoves it closer when I look at her questioningly.
“Oh, go on. You’ll like it.”
With a tilt of my head, I give in and sip the fruity alcoholic drink. Megan’s hand pushes at the bottom of the glass and holds it against my lips until I finish every drop. She giggles when I remove the empty glass.
“You’ll thank me later.”
With the liquor warming my body, I lean against the bar and smile. “Better.”
Reaching up, she slips her hand in my bent arm. “Even if you don’t meet someone, it’s a night off from thinking about Derrick the asshole. Now, let’s go dance, pretty Princess. Maybe Prince Charming is here waiting for you to dance in front of his eyes.”
It doesn’t take much for the liquor to take effect, and before long, I’m losing myself to the rhythm of the music, swaying my hips and moving my arms in the air. For a time, I’ve forgotten all about my misery in the love department. When the song changes, I throw my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m heading to the bathroom.”
Megan nods and moves toward the bar. “I’ll get us more drinks.”
In my haste to reach the toilet, I turn the corner and smack right into a tall man wearing a light-yellow dress shirt with rolled up sleeves and charcoal gray slacks. A tattoo peeks out beneath his right sleeve and on his wrist is a shiny silver watch, giving him a professional look. As my gaze raises to his face, I have to remind myself to breathe. His brown, styled hair is spiked up every which way and a trimmed beard covers the bottom half of his beautiful face. The eyes looking back at me, though, are what makes my body pop and sizzle and my vagina scream, him, he’s the one! Those ice blue-green eyes indicate that there’s intelligence with a spark of mystery behind them. I long to know more about the mysterious bit.
“Hey Princess, you okay?” A smooth, deep baritone fills my ears, followed by Mr. Gorgeous waving his hand in my face.
A giggle escapes me. “That’s what my best friend calls me.”
