The Boss (The Boss 1)

“Sophie.”

I stopped and turned. He stood in front of his door, watching me. I had won our little standoff. He was going to bring up what had happened yesterday. I guess I could have gloated over my tiny victory, but instead I just felt really, really sick to my stomach.

His expression was an apology written in human facial features. Something passed between us; an energy so full of weight and promise that it made the air heavy. My body went entirely still without my willing it to, but I wasn’t tense. All at once, we were the lovers in that hotel room again, and the intervening events evaporated into ether.

And in that moment of perfect trust, when we could have broached the difficult history we had made between us, Rudy Ainsworth strode through the door and confidently deposited his coat across my desk. “Morning, Neil. Ready to save this magazine?”

Before I go any further, I should really explain Rudy Ainsworth. He was the kind of person who, through nothing extraordinary about his appearance, manner, or dress, commanded all the attention in a room the moment he stepped into it. He was short, slightly round, and had beautiful dark skin, but he wasn’t super good-looking, just average. He wore tweed blazers and patterned plaid shirts with bow ties without looking like a hipster or a nerd, even with the thick black-framed reading glasses he sometimes wore. He was totally plain, but he exuded something that drew everyone to him like a magnet.

This morning, that magnetic effect was somewhat diminished by the tension between Neil and me, and we both seemed to realize that Rudy had noticed it, as well. I hurried to hang up the coats while Rudy looked with interest from me to Neil and back.

“Did you enjoy your day off, Miss Sophie?” Rudy had a soft voice and a faint, generic southern accent that I was about seventy percent sure was a pretentious put-on. It was obvious that the question was an admonishment, and I was supposed to try and ferret out the right response.

“Yes, thank you for asking.” I wasn’t going to make an excuse for my absence. Rudy Ainsworth could think whatever he wanted about me, and it wouldn’t hurt my feelings. I was getting fired today, anyway.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Neil told Rudy. “Can you come in and look at the budget they proposed for the handbag spread?”

I was instantly forgotten, and the moment the doors closed behind them, I dropped into my chair. I was almost dizzy from whatever had happened between Neil and me, and my relief at having been rescued from a potential labyrinth of passive-aggressive conversation with Rudy.

Rudy was the least of my worries. Now that Neil had left the room, I went off on an emotional bender, eyeing our might-have-been confrontation from every possible paranoid angle. Had he felt what I had? It had seemed so obvious in the moment. Was he still going to fire me? Had I imagined it all?

I went on autopilot for the first forty-five minutes of my day, answering the phone, falling back on the comfortable routine I’d been in just a couple days ago. I’d thought the magazine would come apart without Gabriella, but everything seemed so shockingly normal. Maybe I could keep working here, after all. Maybe I could snag a position someone else had vacated in a huff yesterday. Life might actually improve.

For the first time in a very long twenty-four hours, I started to feel like maybe my career wasn’t completely over.

At around lunchtime, Neil emerged from his office and paused beside my desk. “I think you should join me for lunch. We have some things we need to discuss. Ivanka will cover any calls.”

Have lunch with Neil? I had a vision of barfing up my still-beating heart right onto my desk in front of him. I felt a bit queasy as I got to my feet, which seemed to have been encased in blocks of lead. I went to the closet and got our coats, handing him his first. To my surprise, he moved to take mine from my hands.

“I’ve got it,” I said as pleasantly as I could as I shrugged it over my shoulders. We were still at war, even if I had come to a sort of uneasy peace about work.

I followed him through the lobby, preferring to keep a few steps behind him, like I’d done with Gabriella. He noticed before we even reached the elevators.

“Could you stop following along like Mary’s little lamb? You’re my assistant, not my servant.” He sounded a bit irritated. At me or Gabriella? Or both of us?

Even though we only stopped twice on the way down, I thought it must have been the longest elevator ride of my entire life. I stood beside him, not saying anything, my gaze fixed firmly on the numbers lighting up over the doors. I didn’t want my eyes to stray to my right for even a nanosecond, because I was certain he would notice me looking at him.