Office Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

I nod limply, unsure what else to say.

“One more thing,” he says.

I laugh. “More than playing CEO?”

“Not more work, but you’re brilliant and you’ve done an amazing job. I want you to be more confident. That’s going to make a huge difference in your career. You do any task I dump on you with flying colors, but you need to think beyond it, too. Now, did you bring your laptop?”

I shake my head.

“Okay, I’ll get mine, because I’m going to have to walk you through logistics. You have access to my schedule, of course. You’ll need to attend all my meetings. You’re in charge of negotiations, but I’ll leave you my notes. You don’t need my approval unless something sounds off, though of course I’ll have your back. I’m going to send Ruby and all the department heads an email to let them know you’re carrying out my wishes.”

Oh. My. God.

Fear grips me like an iron vise. He’s practically turning the company’s biggest decisions over to me.

“You said I can veto any employee time off, right?” I ask. “If I need extra help?”

“Absolutely,” he says.

“Please tell Ruby no senior employees are taking time off until you’re back,” I say. “I’m going to need all hands on deck.”

He nods. “You don’t want to approve it?”

“It takes one thing off my plate, and...honestly, I’m still not sure if I can handle this.”

“You can, and you will,” he says, brushing his sandy hair back, his blue eyes shining like moons. “Confidence, remember?”

I give him a tight, strained smile.

Fine, I’ll try, because I don’t have another choice.* * *We spend hours going over so much info I think my head might explode.

Mag floods my inbox with what he calls pertinent information. Notes. Personal strengths and weaknesses of everyone I’ll be dealing with outside HeronComm.

He shows me how he keeps track of all the meetings and different contracts, and he outlines his strategy on sealing the deal with Arrowpoint Airlines.

“Don’t forget, I’m always just a phone call away,” he tells me.

I’m not so sure.

“You don’t think you’ll have your hands full?”

“I’m not going to feed you to the wolves, and even if I were, a lot of people’s livelihoods depend on the decisions from the top down. If you have a question, call me,” he says, glancing at the time on his laptop. “Fuck. It’s two a.m. You need to go to sleep.”

“Yay. I only have to get up in three hours.” I spin my finger around.

I wasn’t planning to head into work tomorrow at all, but under these circumstances...

“Forget the five o’clock hell hour. You don’t need to be there until seven,” he says. “It’s Saturday and almost New Year’s. The real work won’t start until after the holiday.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mag. You’ve made me no stranger to late nights and early mornings.”

“It’s been a long day. I need you well rested, especially with everything you’re about to take on. Sleep here tonight.” He rakes a hand through my hair and slides off the bed, moving near my feet.

There, he gently removes my shoes.

It’s sweet how much care he takes doing it.

And yeah, I’m exhausted. If he’s offering me five full hours of sleep, I’m not turning it down. I crawl to the head of the bed and drop my head on the softest pillow I’ve ever touched, pulling the thick duvet up around me.

“Your bed feels like heaven,” I say, letting out a yawn.

“Such a shame. I always thought I’d hear you say that, but I expected it under different circumstances,” he grumbles, giving me a wry grin.

My cheeks flush at his words and that lady-killer smile.

“Behave,” I whisper, tangling my fingers around his.

“All joking aside, are you okay with me crashing here too?”

I laugh, stunned at how considerate he’s being.

“Who would’ve thought the jackass was a gentleman? Sleep here in your bed. You’ve already seen the goods.”

He laughs, climbs into bed beside me, and spoons me so close I sigh.

“You’re hardly just any ‘goods.’” He kisses my hair before whispering, “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about that other piece of unfinished business.”

“What business?” I lift my brows, exaggerating.

Yes, I’m going to make him say it.

Consider it revenge for the last two incidents.

Big mistake.

“The business that involves you fused to me, ruling you with my hands, my mouth, and every last burning inch I’ve got. Mark my words, Sabrina, you’ll come so hard for me you can’t walk,” he growls, lightning in his eyes, tracing a finger down my back until I shudder.

Oh, God.

“That piece,” he whispers. “Soon.”

Holy, holy hell.

Even though his finger lingers outside my shirt, a shudder runs through me like I’ve just stepped into the Chicago winter.

But then that roaring fire in my body sparks instantly.

“You could make a sailor blush,” I murmur.

“You asked. I told.”

“You’re so bad. How am I supposed to sleep now?”