Office Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

“Hey! Hey, latte girl, wait up,” Hugo yells, racing across the street to the bus stop.

The model—Sylvia, I think—struts up to me after the camera guys flash each other a thumbs-up.

She’s worth her pay. We’re shooting in a busy park, and she’s managed to keep those stilettos free from a single speck of dirt or misplaced grass. She approaches with a slow, practiced walk meant to win respect like English royalty.

The button-down business-like jacket she wears has light-blue silk at her arms. The back of the skirt is longer than the front and more silk fans out in a tail. It’s this weird clash of regal pomp and modern sizzle, but I just market Big Fashion, not think up the designs.

All she needs is a gold tiara over her platinum-blond hair, and she’d be princess personified.

“Are you okay, Mr. Heron?” she coos, flashing a set of teeth like perfect ivory. “That woman was so vicious.”

She bites her bottom lip, batting her fake lashes.

I’m tempted to step back since she hasn’t left much personal space between us, but I don’t want to offend her. I need her to complete this shoot I promised our client I’d personally oversee, and we’re running out of daylight.

Not everyone controls their emotions as well as I do.

“I’m fine. It was just coffee,” I tell her. “I’ll have a change of shoes waiting back at the office.”

She closes the last smidge of space between us and puts her hand on my chest.

“You were such a gentleman about it,” she gushes. “Hugo’s right. You should’ve reported her to the park police. That was nuts. Practically assault.”

Now I step back.

Somehow, it doesn’t register with her that I’m trying to get the hell away.

With these huntresses who flirt with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, it never does.

“Hardly. Having her grilled by a cop would be ten times the overreaction she gave me,” I snap, putting several more steps between us.

“Oh, well, you’re right to be upset.” Sylvia follows me like a helpless puppy. “We should get you a nice warm cup of chai when we’re done here! That always de-stresses me after a hard day.”

“We need to get back to work,” I remind her gruffly.

I shoo her back to the cameramen with a warning glare to shake their asses. Get it done. With unpredictable weather this week, it might be our last shot at the rapid turnaround I promised our client.

Hugo returns panting a minute later. “Couldn’t...quite...catch her. But I texted Ruby. She’s on it.”

I let him take over the production and drop back, analyzing the scene for anything they’d miss that needs changing. Rigid, intense, and impossible are what they always say about my standards.

Accurate.

It’s also why HeronComm remains the most respected agency in this city.

When this campaign is over, I’ll charge the client ten percent more for the next, and they’ll happily accept it. To get anywhere, we have to yield results.* * *Back at my office, I take off the latte-covered spit shoes and swap them out for a spare set of leather dress shoes I keep in my coat closet in case of emergency meetings. I go to the sideboard, pour myself a finger of scotch, and gaze out the window.

Yeah. That view never gets old.

Heron Communications lords over the city, occupying space in one of the tallest buildings in Chicago. The only buildings higher are the Vista and Willis Towers. A lifetime of work put our office as close to heaven as I’ll ever deserve.

When I hear my door swing open, I turn. It’s a very short list of people who come barreling in without knocking, and Ruby Hunting is one of them with her big red curls bouncing.

She slams the door behind her, another woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone.

She’s only about ten years older than I am, but she’s worked here since I was in middle school. If she ever had a meeting with my father, then-CEO of HeronComm, and I was out of school, I’d come with her so I could get versed in learning the ropes before assuming my destiny.

I’ve learned so much from her over the years.

She’s been a mentor, an ear, and a nice swift kick in the ass whenever I needed it. She taught me everything my father should have—if he’d been born with more than a gaping hole in his chest where a human heart should be.

Age and experience aside, we’re friends. That’s why she’s the only female employee welcome to visit my office nearly every day with the door shut for long periods.

After the legacy my old man left behind, I’m all about keeping boundaries.

“Are you fucking stupid?” she snaps off, her brows knit together like an angry V.

I grin. She’s also the only employee who gets to speak to me like that. I move to my office chair, sit, and motion to the seat across from my desk.