Well, everyone except her.
But she got paid the big bucks to keep it that way as his executive assistant.
Mr. Monroe scoffed. “I double-booked myself one time, and you haven’t let that go, which is wild because it was your fault I messed it up in the first place.”
A hot flush rushed through her body at the accusation. She stomped her way farther into his office. “It was your fault for not being able to follow simple instructions,” she planted her hands on his desk, matching his posture, “and, by the way, I left said instructions taped to whatever book you were reading at the time. I also sent it in an email and scheduled it in your phone.” When it came to his business life, she had it mapped out without any real input from him. The only time he cued her into what he did outside of these walls was when it interfered with what he had on his calendar.
Honestly, when she thought about it, it made zero sense that he double-booked himself.
But I guess that’s what happens when you have your head shoved up your ass.
“What could have been so interesting that you missed every one of my notes?” she seethed.
Amelia could feel the heat seeping off her skin. Her chest rose and fell at a too-rapid speed. There were no sounds in the room except for their heavy breathing, and she promptly ignored the way each inhale she took matched his exhale.
Mr. Monroe’s eyes darkened. They quickly dipped to her lips before they slowly slipped down her neck and to the blouse she was wearing. It was light blue, one of her favorites, but it felt too tight against her chest in the growing tension in the room.
Amelia and Mr. Monroe had plenty of heated arguments. It was what they did. But it was always in passing and with more than just a desk between them. She did not like the way her pulse jumped when he took his time bringing his gaze back to hers.
“As if you don’t already know.” Mr. Monroe’s words slipped under her shirt and dove further down her body. She resisted the urge to shift on her feet.
“You’re on call this weekend, correct, Ms. Wayne?” His lips twitched as he slowly sat back in his chair, looking every bit the in-charge CEO he was to the world.
Amelia’s eye twitched. A surprise laugh slipped out of her as she eased away from his desk. “I already told you and everyone else,” she turned and started walking way, ignoring the way she felt his eyes on her, “I’m off the clock as of thirty minutes ago and won’t be available until Monday morning.” She stopped at the door, gazing over her shoulder. “Good night, Mr. Monroe.”
“You do know I’m your boss here, correct?” There was something in his tone that made her brain itch to explore. But if she did, she’d never get out of here, and she had enough of men dictating her life for one lifetime. Her ex had a way of shifting her view of the things she wanted and how she viewed herself. He made it seem like the things that brought her joy were silly and insignificant. Every time she spoke up or had an opinion about something, he twisted it until she caved, and when it came to their sex life, her pleasure was never considered.
“You and I both know I run things in this office, so much so you don’t know who’s coming or going.” And that was all based on facts, not ego. “But I’m sure you’ll do fine all on your own this weekend.” She waved. “I left notes. Make sure you actually read them, Mr. Monroe, so we don’t have another mishap.” She swallowed her laugh when she heard him rumbling something eerily close to pain in the ass under his breath.
She grabbed her bags and sped-walked toward the elevator, contemplating taking the stairs down when her phone buzzed. She almost didn’t answer it, but as soon as the elevator pinged, she was pulling her phone out of her bag to see who was bothering her on a Friday evening.
“Because no one seems to understand what ‘off the clock’ means,” she grumbled under her breath and stepped through the elevator doors.
“Of course.” She let out a heavy sigh seeing Mr. Monroe’s name on her screen. She quickly put in her passcode, fingers flying to tell him off again when she paused, seeing what he wrote:
Mr. Monroe: Happy Valentine’s Day, Ms. Wayne. Enjoy your weekend. I’ll see you Monday.”
Amelia slipped her phone back into her bag, doing nothing to wipe the smile off her face.
CHAPTER TWO
Jordan tugged at the collar of his shirt, stifling the urge to yawn. He was exhausted. He also hated how late he was running. He glanced down at his watch and cursed. He left the office too late thanks to his executive assistant clocking out early. He had to wrap up a few more things that would have gone easier had she been the one to do it or at least help. But it was better for both of them that she left his office and went about her night. The tension in the room was suffocating—like it always was when they bickered.
He coughed out a surprise chuckle. It was their routine. He liked getting under her skin a little too much. There was so much fire burning behind her eyes, and he liked to coax it out to play, even when it didn’t always work out for him. She had a way of calling him out on his bullshit and giving as good as she got.
Case in point: tonight. He usually had an easier time getting her to stay later. She was damn good at her job, and if for no other reason, she liked to prove him wrong and did so consistently. But she’d been cutting out earlier and earlier lately, especially on Friday nights. He liked that she wasn’t glued to her work anymore. She called off an engagement to some dipshit six months ago, and ever since then, she was moving like she had somewhere to be after work.
Jordan was proud of her.
He wouldn’t outwardly tell her that though.
She’d think he was lying through his teeth and have some snarky remark that would insure they spent the next several minutes bickering back and forth because she could never let anything go.
Neither can I.
Jordan’s lips twitched. He knew how to get his way with clients and other companies. If he even tried it with Ms. Wayne, she’d chuck something heavy at his head and then cut him down to size with her beautiful eyes and sharp tongue.
Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, Mr. Monroe, you’d know where your documents were. I’ll leave a trail of breadcrumbs next time to make it easier.
