Page 56 of Hating the Boss

Once I was dressed, Sarah gestured for the door, but I shook my head. “You go. I think I’m going to finish up some work.”

Really, I just needed to get my thoughts in order.

“Okay. Well, goodnight,” she said softly, before standing on her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek. I wondered why she had. It was such a tender thing, and no one was watching for it to matter. She must have had the same thought because she quickly pulled away and walked out the door.

Maybe she was feeling things too?

When she was gone, I pulled out my phone and texted Anton. The man behind the idea of this charade. He owed me a drink and a talk.

Me: Drinks?

Anton When?

Me: Now. Oscar Wilde?

Anton You know I’d never turn down an old fashioned from there.

Me: See you in twenty.

I rode the elevator down to the parking garage and climbed into my car. I put the top down before winding up the two levels up to the cool night air. We had reached the end of summer where the evenings finally feel crisper. I smiled as the breeze hit my face, weaving through traffic toward Chelsea.

Once I parked at an unoccupied meter, I made my way into the dimly lit bar, the only light coming from the eclectic collection of pendant lights hanging from the ceiling. I took a seat in a gold and red velvet chair by the white marble-top bar. Behind the bar were two ornate pillars framing a large mirror that housed several shelves of liquor. Framed photos of Oscar Wilde spanned over the gold, patterned wallpaper.

“What can I get you?” asked the bartender.

“Two old-fashioneds, please.”

A few moments later, he returned with a generous pour that smelled of orange bitters and smoke. I took a deep sip.

“Started without me, huh?” asked Anton, sidling up on the barstool next to mine.

“Just got them,” I said, sliding his drink over.

“Thanks.” He took a long sip. “Now, why the impromptu boys’ night out?”

Anton knew me well enough to know that I didn’t “do” spontaneous. Most everything was scheduled.

“It’s Sarah,” I said hesitantly.

“Oh shit. Right. How is your little situation going?” he asked, leaning in with a curious smile. I hadn’t yet told him that we had ended up having sex, and continued doing so.

“It’s great. Easy. Maybe too easy.” I said, taking another long sip of my drink. “We might have had sex.” I said, dropping my voice low. I didn’t know why I was being coy about it. Anton and I had bragged about which women we had slept with, along with other raunchy details to puff up our egos. But with Sarah, I felt protective.

Anton slapped his thigh before throwing his head back, laughing.

“I knew that was going to happen,” he said, pointing his finger at me.

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t,” I muttered.

“You wanted it to.” He wiggled his brows, and I wanted to smack them off his smug head.

“She’s just…different,” I said. “She’s down-to-earth. She has her own thing going on, though I don’t quite know what that is yet. I like that she’s independent. She can keep up with my sarcasm, dishing it right back. She’s beautiful as all hell.” I shook my head, my own feelings coming into play and making me feel confused.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’ve fallen for this girl,” said Anton, surprise in his voice.

I stared down at my drink and shook my head. “No. It’s just an arrangement,” I said, feeling my walls building up. “Once the client is signed, we’ll move on from this and she can go find another place to work.”

“Are you sure?” Anton asked, scrutinizing my face. “Because the way you talk about her…I haven’t heard you talk about anyone like that in a long time. Not since…”