Office Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

Paige holds up her phone with a glowing photo of a man’s face half sculpted. He’s older, kinda handsome, beardy, and gives off the big daddy vibe.

“You’ve come a long way. I remember when your sculptures looked more like horror movie material,” I say with a smile. “Who’s the hot stuff?”

“That’s her husband, Riker. It’s supposed to be a big surprise for Christmas when I mail her the finished bust. If I’d snagged a guy like him, I’d probably be commissioning art too, but...we can’t all be famous authors who marry alpha security guys.”

“Your family’s so interesting. A bestselling author and an infamous pop star.” I wish her cousin would give my mother some writing advice.

I try to smile. Why can’t my life be more like hers?

“Interesting shoes to fill, you mean. Don’t think I’ll ever catch up to Liv and Milah,” she says, this sad, anxious flicker in her eyes before she turns back into easygoing Paige with the sunshine smile again. “Tell me about your other Tinder matches, though? Besides the no-show.”

I wave my hand like I can push the question away.

“Please. Before the guy who ghosted me, I had dinner with a match. He ordered a forty-dollar steak and forgot his wallet.”

Her mouth drops. “Did you pay?”

“What else could I do? So now I’m down to dregs in my checking account.”

“I would’ve told the waitress to separate the check, paid for my dinner, left the loser, and called an Uber,” she says smugly.

She’s right, of course.

Paige is too good at navigating these sticky life situations, even if her own life is far from perfect, which is probably why she has a booming bank account and I have crickets in mine. Even without her affluent folks behind her, helping fund her sculpture kick, I think she’d have her crap together in a way I still dream about.

My phone buzzes against the table, and I pick it up. Glaring at the screen, I shake my head and gulp down my hard tea.

“What is it?” Paige asks, noticing my expression.

“His company just emailed me for a second time. I don’t get it. It’s some kind of sick joke.”

“Whose company?” she asks.

“The jerk from the park. With my luck, he’s probably trying to get my address so he can send me a bill for his stupid shoes.” I swipe away the email on the screen like I’m shooing off a fly.

“He can’t be that nuts, right?” She laughs at my glare. “What does this email say?”

“They want me to discuss a ‘promising—’” I put finger quotes around ‘promising.’ “'Opportunity' with their lead HR representative. Yeah, I don’t buy it, either.”

“Are you sure it’s his company? If you need a job, I wouldn’t turn down any interviews.”

“Believe me, I was surprised when I got an interview request with a company I hadn’t even applied for, so I went to their website. Sure enough, he’s the CEO. It’s got to be a joke. Maybe one of the people on his crew trying to punk me for the fun of it. Sweet revenge.”

“What’s the name of the company?” she asks.

“Heron Communications,” I say. “HeronComm for short, I think.”

Paige pulls out her phone and Googles it with her brows pulled tight. She holds the phone out for me to see their team directory page, complete with smiling photos. “Which one’s your park prick?”

I point to the hottest guy on the flipping page, who else?

“Hello, gorgeous! Magnus Heron, huh? What a name,” she mutters, an amused smile hanging on her lips. “Actually, that sounds weirdly familiar...you said he owns the company, right?”

“Yep. Typical spoiled gazillionaire. Why do they think owning a company entitles them to ruling the rest of the world?”

Paige’s fingers fly against her phone and she stops and reads the screen for a moment. “Dude. He is a jackass—it’s not just you.”

“Told ya,” I throw back. “What’d you find?”

“Wow, this guy, I know all about him! I knew I’d read it somewhere. He’s like a local business legend, always in the press. He took over the company years ago when his dad retired. He became a huge CEO in his twenties. He’s a billionaire and everyone hates him. He likes to crush the competition with these elaborate marketing stunts...he’s put an awful lot of people out of business.”

My gut knots. It feels extra unpleasant with too much bread and Alfredo.

“Why would I want to work for an egomaniac like that?” I ask.

She’s quiet for a minute, considering.

“I mean...you need a job, right?” she says gently. “Nothing wrong with a little deal with the devil if it helps keep the lights on. No judgment here.”

I can’t argue with her logic, even if every bit of me wants to.

“It’s a sick joke,” I say again. “It’s got to be.”

“Oh, at a company that size, you’ll rarely even see the CEO. My dad’s been a suit his whole life and he has no idea who’s being hired for entry-level positions.”