Baby for the Bosshole

But Emmett isn’t finished. “And I think we went into early Saturday morning. And just now, too, of course.”

Argh! Why doesn’t he just pour gasoline on the whole situation and fan the flames?

“You need to go home,” I say to Rick. And quit embarrassing me. Ex-boyfriends are supposed to stay in the past, not the present.

Rick isn’t listening, though. “You’re picking this? Over me? Slick packaging over something genuine and real?”

“Yeah, Amy. Say it ain’t so. Tell him neigh,” Emmett says, putting a weird tremor into the last word, like he’s a donkey.

Rick turns redder. “Picking your job over me, my ass! You were just looking for a way to end what we have so you could make me the villain. For this…this…” He points at Emmett, his finger quivering. “I don’t even know what to call him.”

Emmett smiles at Rick. “Don’t worry, buddy. Happens all the time. I often strike p

eople speechless with wonder and awe.”

“Shouldn’t you be in Tahoe?” I say to Rick, hoping to distract him before he gets any crazier. He might not care about his dignity, but I care about mine.

“I couldn’t go with you cheating on me with this…this…person.”

“I never cheated on you!”

Rick ignores me. He glares at Emmett, sizing him up—the expensive clothes, the watch that cost more than what most people make in a year, the four-figure haircut, and the towering height, a good five or six inches taller than Rick. My ex-boyfriend’s eyes are bright with calculation. It doesn’t take long for him to realize he comes up short. Way short.

That obviously isn’t what he wanted in the situation. I was supposed to sink into misery and regret over losing him. Envious rage sparks behind his eyes.

“I should’ve known you were cheating,” he says, obviously clinging to the belief that he’s the poor victim. “And what kind of asshole steals another man’s girlfriend?”

Fucking Rick. He’s a talking cockroach!

Emmett looks at his watch. “We should get going. Our dinner reservation is at six.”

What? There’s no “dinner reservation” on my calendar!

Rick sticks his arms out, pointing accusingly at me and Emmett. “You fuckers! You aren’t even trying to hide it!”

“Neigh.” Emmett does that weird donkey thing again, although maybe it’s a horse. “It’s at Lux,” he adds, like Rick hasn’t yelled loud enough to alert every media outlet in the city. “I asked them for seven courses. You can pick the entrées once we get there, Amy.”

What the hell is this? Something to make up for the Friday “incident”? A backhanded attempt to get me out on a date?

Rick is frowning like he’s completely lost. Not surprising. Lux is one of those restaurants without a set menu or price. You pick the number of courses you want, tell them about any preferences or allergies and the chef will create a culinary masterpiece. Basically, if you have to ask about the price, you can’t afford it. The only reason I know about the place at all is because GrantEm rented the entire restaurant for a Christmas party my first year at the firm.

I debate my options. One, ignore Rick, run back to the office and stay there until he goes away. But I have a feeling that would only embolden him.

Two, drag him away and talk some sense into him once he calms down. Make him accept that it’s over between us. He should realize losing control only encourages my boss to be more outrageous. One of the reasons Emmett is a difficult man to work for is that he doesn’t believe in de-escalation. When it amuses him, he’ll pour gasoline by the metric ton onto any fire. The man needs therapy.

Three—

“Hey, man. Are you ignoring me?” Rick glares at Emmett, trying to turn the focus back on himself. He isn’t totally stupid—he isn’t getting physically violent with Emmett, who’s both larger and taller. Rick isn’t really out of shape, but he doesn’t exactly exude male strength and power. “You think you’re better than me because you’ve got some money?”

Emmett turns to me, his eyes lit with a devilish gleam.

Oh no…

“I assumed that my dominant personality was keeping him quiet, but I just realized that isn’t it. Remember that earbud prototype we were working on? The one for muting idiots? I put it in this morning. Based on its performance so far, I’d say it’s ready for mass production.” He smiles happily.

I choke back a laugh. It’s unexpected, and Rick deserves it, but unlike Emmett, I’m all for de-escalation.

Rick’s jaw drops, his face now completely scarlet. “Are you calling me an idiot, you asshole?”