Page 23 of Hating the Boss

“And?” I asked, pressing my lips into a thin line as I studied my father’s face, noting the new lines that creased his forehead.

“You’re almost forty years old. Unmarried.”

I sighed, my eyes instinctively rolling.

“It’s not a good look. Stellar Industries is a family-run company. People like that.”

I stayed silent, taking a sip of my scotch, the burn of it distracting me from this conversation. He acted like I hadn’t once been engaged. I had tried.

“It can’t be good for you,” my father added. “Isn’t there anyone? Maybe someone here…” He looked around the room.

I looked for anyone to get me out of my father potentially trying to set me up with a woman. That was when I spotted Sarah standing in the doorway, a dry-cleaning bag draped over her arms. She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting and finally landing on me.

Thank God. I had my out.

I waved her over and she pushed her way through the crowd. My eyes immediately fell to the neckline of her dress, scooped precariously low to reveal her ample cleavage. She was far underdressed for a place like this, but she looked better than anyone in the room.

“Sarah, there you are,” I said in a friendly tone, quickly taking the dry-cleaning bag from her and gently guiding her to my side.

She looked up at me in surprise, and I noted the slight arch of her eyebrow that questioned my Mr. Nice Guy act. I ignored the look and turned to my father.

“Dad, this is Sarah. Sarah, this is William,” I said, careful to leave out the formal titles that would reveal her as my assistant and him as my father. I would let him jump to his own conclusions about who Sarah was.

He cleared his throat and smiled at Sarah. “Lovely to meet you, dear,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it.

“A pleasure,” she said, nodding her head slightly.

My father grabbed his drink from the bar and gave me a knowing look before walking off and disappearing in the crowd. He took the bait in thinking Sarah was my date. Maybe that would make him back off for a while. I knew we were playing with fire, though. Sarah and I had to get out of there before he rounded back with questions.

“You’re late,” I said, turning to Sarah.

“So, I’ve been told,” she said, slightly under her breath.

“You can go now. In fact, you can have the rest of the day off…” I said, eager for her to leave the club and out of reach of my father.

“Oh.” She checked her watch. “It’s just before noon…”

“It’s fine,” I said, leading her toward the large double doors she had just walked through a few minutes ago, very aware of how her body tensed slightly at the touch of my hand on her back. In the doorway, we stood in an awkward silence. I could tell her curiosity was piqued by the dimly lit lounge crowded with people.

“I don’t have any more use for you today,” I said firmly, garnering her attention again.

She gave me a look that was a mixture of hurt or confusion. Part of me wondered if I should ask her to stay, loosen her up with a glass of champagne and have her by my side as I schmoozed with Manhattan’s elite. Maybe find a dark corner…

“Okay,” she said softly. “See you tomorrow.”

She walked down the long hallway toward the iron doors of the entrance. Seeing her ass move in the pale pink fabric of her dress made me immediately regret sending her away. That was one hell of a dress. I shook my head slightly, breaking the spell, and ducked into a nearby bathroom to change into a suit that was more appropriate for the club.

After schmoozing with the usual club members and avoiding my father for another hour, I was about to head out the door when I was stopped by one of our biggest clients, Trent Page.

“Leaving already?” he asked, his breath soaked in alcohol.

“Someone has to work,” I replied with a chuckle.

“Mr. Responsible.” He nodded. “That’s why you’re the best of the best.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Well, I have some ideas I want to run by you for the next quarter.”