The Boss (The Boss 1)

“Half the remaining staff at Porteras is still loyal to Gabriella, Soph,” Jake said, looking utterly baffled that I didn’t realize this myself. “It’s not like they’re unwilling to share this information.”

How the fuck had this gone from a job interview, no, a job offer, to a goddamned interrogation by the Mean Girls clique?

“And those are very expensive earrings,” Penelope observed.

“No one is condemning you, Sophie. We’re simply concerned that your loyalties might not lie in the right place.” Gabriella studied me as though she were going to paint me from memory later. “You understand, of course, that future involvement with Mr. Elwood, or any employee of an Elwood and Stern company, will be... discouraged, should you accept my offer?”

“There’s nothing to discourage,” I insisted. Shit. Would she hire a private investigator to follow me? Or would she just have one of her simpering sycophants do it?

That made me feel bad. Not too long ago, I’d been one of those sycophants. How often had I done things for her that had hurt my co-workers? Probably plenty, and without question, because I’d wanted to be good at my job. My mind raced over all the times she’d asked me to keep an eye on the elevators, to see what time this editor or that assistant arrived to work. The times she’d sent me on errands to fashion houses and asked me who’d been waiting in the lobby with me. Probably all those times had been about espionage more than errands.

Holy fuck, I’d been living in a freaking soap opera and I’d never noticed. Because I had wanted the glamor and the drama, or maybe I had thought I was supposed to want it.

I felt super dizzy. I gulped down some water and hoped my face didn’t look as red as it felt.

“It isn’t that I don’t want the job,” I began cautiously. “Obviously I need a job, since I’m unemployed. But I really have to think about this. It’s such a huge responsibility, and I don’t want to take it lightly. Can I let you know tomorrow?”

“That’s reasonable, right, Gabriella?” Jake asked nervously.

She sighed. “I really had hoped for more enthusiasm. But then, your cautious nature was one of the reasons I hired you as my assistant.”

We chatted a bit more, but it was clear that as the point had been reached, the “interview” was over. Jake offered to walk me out, and while I didn’t want to be anywhere near him, I couldn’t refuse.

“Listen... is there anything going on with you and Neil Elwood?” Jake asked. “You seem... off. And you didn’t exactly laugh at those accusations.”

“Because they’re not funny,” I said firmly as he hailed a cab for me. “I don’t have to sleep around to be successful.”

“Fine, fine. I won’t ask again.” He held his hands up. A taxi coasted up to the curb, and I reached for the door as Jake continued, “Don’t blow this, Sophie, that could be the biggest mistake of your life.”

“No pressure.” I tried not to snap, but I bet I sounded snappish. “I really am going to have to think about this. It’s a major decision.”

“And you have to check with Neil Elwood?” The corner of Jake’s mouth lifted in a wry smile, like he had caught me doing something I shouldn’t have.

Okay, sleeping with my boss was something I shouldn’t have done. Getting into a relationship with him, that was worse. But I didn’t regret it for an instant, and no job was worth losing what I had with Neil or hurting him further. My mind was already made up, now I just wanted to get the hell away from these people. “Goodbye, Jake.”

I didn’t look back at him as I got into the cab.

* * * *

Meeting Neil for dinner should have been refreshingly stress free. For the first time, I wasn’t worried about running into someone from work. In a city of eight million people, it was strangely easy to get caught by someone you least wanted to see when you were doing the thing you least wanted to get caught doing. Tonight, we could honestly say that we didn’t work together.

I was at the restaurant, a cozy, intimate place with soft lighting and a quiet dining room, for about twenty minutes without any sign of Neil. Which was totally bizarre; barring that one time I beat him to his apartment after work, he was never late. I checked my phone. He hadn’t called me.

That struck me as odd. Surely he couldn’t still be tied up at Porteras. Wouldn’t he have let me know?

I tried not to keep my eyes on the door, but I spotted him the moment he came into view. He looked apologetic and ashamed as he approached, but he looked tired, too. Definitely not himself.

“I am so sorry.” He slid into the seat across from me. “We had a hell of a day, and I completely forgot we were meeting for dinner.”