Boss I Love To Hate Read online

  I’m in a good mood right now, and the last thing I want is for that to be spoiled. I don’t want to deal with Lou yelling at me for being behind in the rent. It’s happened quite a lot in recent months – which is personally embarrassing for me – but I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m feeling too good to deal with Captain Buzzkill.

  I’m reaching for the door when his voice stops me, which feels a lot like I’ve just had a glass of ice cold water thrown in my face.

  “Hey, Berlin,” he starts.

  Letting out a long breath, I turn around, doing my best to keep my expression totally neutral.

  “What is it, Lou?”

  He stuffs the rag in his pocket. “Just wanted to tell you your account’s clear.”

  “Excuse me?” I gape at him. “What do you mean, my account is clear?”

  “Your rent? You’re paid up for the next six months.”

  “What? How?”

  He shrugs. “Somebody obviously wanted to do you a solid. What does it matter?”

  “Who?” I press. “Who paid my rent?”

  “Some guy, fuck if I know,” he shrugs. “Handed me a big-ass check. And it cleared. I ain’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially when it means you ain’t gonna be late with the rent.”

  “This guy – let me guess,” I go on. “Tall. Maybe six-three, dark brown hair, brown eyes? Big build?”

  “Yeah, sounds about right.”

  I mutter under my breath, the irritation surging through me, the last vestiges of my former good mood floating away like scraps of paper on a stiff breeze.

  “You need to give me that check back so I can return it,” I snap.

  His laughter turns into a wheezing cough, and he shakes his head. “Yeah. No way in hell that’s gonna happen.”

  “Lou, you need to give me the check back –”

  “Couldn’t even if I wanted to – which I don’t,” he grumbles. “It’s already cleared.”

  “Goddammit,” I growl.

  “What’s the problem, lady?” he snaps. “Your fuckin’ rent’s paid. Be grateful somebody took pity on you because you were gonna be out on your ass if –”

  I turn and storm out the door of the building before Lou can finish his statement, the blood inside of me beginning to boil over. I flag down a cab and give him the address for my office – then change my mind and give him a different address altogether.

  I’m in a terrible mood now and feel the need to spread it around.

  * * *

  I step off the elevator and find myself in the lobby of Compass Development. I walk across the tile of the lobby and look around. The lobby is luxurious and beautiful, but beyond that, the office has an open floor plan and is done in stainless steel and glass. It’s thoroughly modern and sleek – but in my opinion, it’s sterile. Cold.

  I step to the receptionist’s desk, and she gives me a perfunctory smile that looks about as genuine as the smile that’s painted on a Barbie doll.

  “Good morning, and welcome to Compass Development,” she chirps. “How can I help you today?”

  Her voice is as mechanical as her smile. She looks so lifelike, but I’m convinced if I look behind her, I’ll see her plugged into the wall.

  “I’m Berlin Roth and I’m here to see Sawyer West,” I announce. “I don’t have an appointment.”

  She purses her lips. “Oh, if you don’t have an appointment, I’m afraid it won’t be possible to see him,” she responds. “He’s a very busy man.”

  “Of course he is,” I go on. “And I understand that. But this is a matter of some importance, and I just need five minutes of his time.”

  She cocks her head like a puppy trying to comprehend the sound of my voice. “And what is the nature of this matter, Miss Roth?”

  “It’s personal.”

  Receptionist Barbie consults her computer and types in a few commands before turning back to me. “Well, Mr. West has an opening next Tuesday at eleven-thirty,” she says brightly. “Would you like to make an appointment?”

  I grumble to myself and look around the office again. I see a hallway near the back I didn’t notice before. I assume that’s where the executive offices are.

  “Miss Roth?”

  I look at Receptionist Barbie again and then turn, walking briskly through the office and toward the hallway in the back as she calls out to me. I ignore her and keep walking, my anger growing with every step I take.

  “Miss Roth, you can’t go back there,” she calls after me. “Excuse me. Miss Roth, you don’t have an appointment.”

  I walk down the hallway, passing offices on my left and right – none of them Sawyer’s. At the end of the hall is a large, imposing door that looks like it was made from cherry wood with an empty desk in front of it. The brass nameplate next to it reads Sawyer West. Bingo.

  As I stride toward the door, I can hear Receptionist Barbie’s feet scuffling along on the tile and her frantic breathing as she hurries to catch up with me.

  “Miss Roth, you can’t –”

  I throw open the door to Sawyer’s office to find him huddled with Rider at his desk. They’re both looking at his computer screen, laughing with one another about something, but look up quickly when I storm in.

  “Mr. West, I tried to stop her,” Receptionist Barbie pants from behind me.

  “It’s fine, Kyra. I’ll meet with her,” Sawyer replies as he gets to his feet. “Thank you.”

  I turn and watch as she gives Sawyer a shaky smile and then turns, leaving his office and closing the door behind her. I turn back to Sawyer, ready to explode, and give a very pointed look at Rider. He exchanges a look with Sawyer and clears his throat.

  “Right. Guess I’ll give you two a few minutes,” Rider says. He gives me a brief smile as he ducks out of Sawyer’s office.

  I look at the giant wall of windows that overlook Manhattan. Were I not so pissed off right now, I might be impressed with the view. On the right side of the office is a sitting area with couches and chairs, on the left is a massive desk with glass shelving behind it. Like the main office area out front, Sawyer’s office is modern and sterile. The only real touch of warmth I see are the black and white pictures of natural settings on the walls.

  “Everything okay?” Sawyer asks. “Are you okay?”

  “No Sawyer, everything is not okay.”

  He purses his lips and nods, then motions to the sofas and chairs on the other side of the room.

  “Okay, would you like to have a seat? Talk about this?”

  “No, this won’t take long.”

  “Okay,” he frowns.

  Sawyer comes around his desk and leans against it, folding his arms over his chest. He doesn’t really look all that surprised to see me. I get the feeling he knows why I’m here.

  “I told you I didn’t want you to speak with my super,” I start.

  “Technically speaking, I didn’t talk to him. Much.”

  I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes, my anger rising like a wave. “Don’t get cute, Sawyer.”

  “Can’t help it; it’s just my natural state of being,” he grins.

  “Sawyer, I swear to God –”

  He chuckles. “Relax, Berlin, I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”

  “I’m not screwing around,” I snap. “I told you I didn’t want you to help –”

  “And I know you’re too stubborn and prideful to ask for help even when you need it,” he fires back.

  “I didn’t need it.”

  “Yeah, you did,” he scoffs. “You were on the verge of losing your place. And what then? What were you going to do if you and your dad got tossed out onto the street?”

  I open my mouth to argue but realizing that he’s right, close it again, knowing I have no argument to make. I’ve been so busy trying to hold it all together that I haven’t stopped to think about the day I couldn’t do it anymore. I really don’t know what I would have done if Lou had served us with an eviction notice. I have no savings to sp
eak of, nowhere to go, and no plan. Setting aside my pride for just a moment, I can see the truth of the matter is that Sawyer saved my ass.

  And I think that’s what pisses me off more than anything. I’m not a woman who wants to rely on anybody. For anything. I value my independence, above all else. Which, I see now, has left me with a few massive blind spots. Not that he had any right to go behind my back and do what he did.

  “That’s hardly the point,” I hiss. “I asked you not to do something, and you did it anyway. And I don’t like feeling indebted to people.”

  “Technically, you never told me to not –”

  “Oh shut up already,” I snap. “Stop splitting hairs with me.”

  “Look, we can sit here and argue about whether or not I was an asshole for trying to help you out,” he goes on. “Or, you can simply say thank you, and we can move forward.”

  I know I sound like an ungrateful bitch. I hate that I do. At the same time, though, I’m embarrassed as hell knowing if not for Sawyer, we’d be royally screwed. I mean, I might have been able to juggle some things here and there and do the tap dance I usually do. But doing so would have forced me to dance and juggle even faster. And every month we fall further behind, the tempo of the music speeds up, and I have to dance to the tune even faster. I could have gone through the usual rigamarole, but it would have only been postponing the inevitable. Again.

  “Thank you,” I say more grudgingly than I intend to.

  “And you’re very welcome.”

  I glare at him, gritting my teeth, my hands balled into fists at my side. I’m doing my best to keep my temper in check, but it’s not easy. I’m mostly pissed at myself for getting into this position in the first place. Sawyer stands there staring at me with an amused smirk on his face that makes me want to scream. Nothing like rubbing it in.

  “Look at you,” he chuckles. “And you say I have a temper.”

  “Shut up,” I growl.

  He laughs again, that deep booming voice washing over me like a warm, comforting wave. I look away but can’t keep the grin from stretching across my face. I shake my head and look up at him.

  “You really are an ass,” I laugh softly.

  “True. I am,” he replies. “But I think you kinda like it.”

  “Now you’re pushing your luck,” I fire back.

  I don’t know how he did it, but I came in here with a head of steam, ready to rip him a new one, and he somehow managed to talk me down. My anger was justified, but somehow, he defused it. Damn him.

  “I’m grateful, Sawyer,” I tell him and mean it. “And I swear I’ll pay you –”

  He waves me off. “That’s not necessary. In fact, don’t even think about it.”

  “Sawyer, no, I –”

  “I’m serious,” he grumbles. “Do not worry about it.”

  I purse my lips and blow out a breath, frustrated, embarrassed, and a hundred other things right now. But most of all, I’m grateful that Sawyer cares so much that he’d risk pissing me off to help solve my problems.

  “So – what now?” I ask.

  He glances at his watch and shrugs. “How about lunch?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sawyer

  “I’ll have the contracts sent over in the morning,” I say into the phone, taking a sip of my coffee. “Have your people review them and get back to me.”

  I pace in front of the windows, looking out over the city as I talk to one of my contractors. We’re breaking ground on a new project soon, and I’m trying to get my ducks in a row.

  My office door opens, and I see Rider step in with a newspaper under his arm. He’s got a devious grin on his face, and he tips me a wink as he closes the door behind him. I watch him walk over and drop down onto the sofa. I look at him curiously – he doesn’t usually read papers; he gets his news online. He’s grinning at me like a fool, which makes me even more curious.

  The voice coming through my earpiece pulls me back to the present. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. I’m here,” I speak into my Bluetooth device. “Sorry about that.”

  I spend the next ten minutes going over some details with my contractor, trying to get everything straight before I finish up. I don’t want any mistakes on this. When we finish ironing everything out, I disconnect the call and drop my earpiece on my desk. Carrying my cup of coffee with me, I walk over to the sitting area and take the chair across from Rider.

  Crossing one leg over the other, I take a drink of my coffee and wait. He’s looking at me, an amused sparkle in his eye. He looks like he’s practically ready to burst.

  “And why are you looking like the cat that ate the canary this morning?” I ask.

  “I take it you haven’t seen the news?”

  “I have. I read the paper this morning,” I reply. “I just didn’t read anything that would lead me to be as chipper as you.”

  His grin widens. “Clearly you didn’t read the right news.”

  He tosses the paper over to me, and I see right away it’s the Borough Ledger – one of the trashier tabloids in the city. If not the state. Or country. There is no story too salacious for this rag. It doesn’t even necessarily need to be true. In fact, based on my own experience with the Ledger, they prefer stories that are based in fiction.

  I pick it up and arch an eyebrow at Rider. “Are you kidding me? The Ledger?”

  “Don’t judge too quickly,” he continues to grin.

  “When did you start reading this shit?”

  Rider chuckles. “When it started to get interesting.”

  I sigh and unfold the paper. My eyes are immediately drawn to the large photo that takes up most of the front page. It’s me and Berlin climbing out of the back of my Range Rover and getting ourselves together after our lunchtime rendezvous a couple weeks back. I groan when I read the headline – which is displayed, of course, in massive black block letters: Afternoon Delight for Sawyer West and Mystery Woman.

  “Jesus Christ,” I grumble. “What the fuck is this?”

  “Looks like the way I wish I spent my lunch hours,” he cracks.

  “Oh, shut up,” I laugh.

  I skim through the article – which is not surprisingly, very light on facts. Instead, it’s filled with the most suggestive gossip and innuendo possible. But most of the article seems to speculate on who the ‘mystery woman’ is. The writer seems to obsess on it, actually.

  “So, let me guess,” Rider starts, “this isn’t what it looks like?”

  I grin. “No, it’s exactly what it looks like,” I tell him. “We banged in the back of my car. What I can’t figure out is how they got these pictures.”

  “With a camera, I’d guess.”

  I throw the paper back and laugh. “Fuck off.”

  As I scan my memory of that day, my mind lands on the van that sat at the far end of the parking lot. Had the paparazzi been tailing me? Where had they picked me up? And why?

  “I guess it was a slow news day in tabloid land,” I muse.

  “I disagree,” Rider objects. “As they say, sex sells. And quite obviously –”

  “Okay, okay,” I hold up my hand and cut him off. “Points for creativity.”

  I run a hand through my hair and take a drink of my coffee. This is all amusing as hell and all, but it’s irritating as shit at the same time. I’ve had to deal with the paparazzi my whole life, and my hatred of them has only grown stronger through the years. This is but one more example of why.

  It’s then the thought that should have been among the first enters my mind. I look at the paper splayed out on the couch beside Rider and groan. I slip my phone out of my pocket and take a look at it. No texts, no missed calls. Yet.

  “I don’t know if she’s seen it, is pissed and isn’t calling,” I wonder out loud, “or hasn’t seen it yet.”

  “Which means that you should probably think about getting your ass over there and getting to her before she sees it,” Rider finishes for me.

  I nod. “Exactly what I was thinking.”


  * * *

  “I guess I should just get you an office of your own,” she says. “I mean since you seem to be here so often.”

  I lean against the door jamb with my hands in my pockets and give her a small shrug. “No need. Your office works just fine.”

  “Well you certainly seem to be making yourself at home here.”

  “I don’t see you calling building security on me,” I note.

  She laughs softly. “You know me; I hate to cause a scene.”

  I look at her and smile. Even doing nothing but sitting behind her desk in a dark business suit and green blouse that hugs all her curves just right, she’s breathtaking. A thought flashes through my mind of taking her out to have some fun.

  But then, that would just make this situation worse, wouldn’t it?

  “Come in, come in,” she tells me. “I can’t have you hovering in the hallway like a creeper.”

  I laugh and step in, closing the door behind me. I cross her small office in two steps and drop down into the seat across from her. I know she hasn’t seen the pictures yet, otherwise she would be tearing me a new one right now. Berlin is a private woman. She’s going to be pissed once I tell her. Hopefully she places her anger where it belongs – at the feet of the paparazzi – instead of me.

  “I’m telling you now that I can’t take a long lunch today,” she says. “I have to take a deposition in half an hour, and then I have a pre-trial hearing after that.”

  I chuckle and hold up my hands. “Okay, okay. I get it. No lunch date today.”

  “I wouldn’t mind it, but, well – I can’t be irresponsible every day.”

  I laugh. “Fair enough. But it’s funny you should mention a lunch date.”

  “And no, I can’t go out to your car for a quickie,” she grins. “Just to head that off before it takes root in that head of yours.”