Exiting the elevator, I gave a wry smile to the security guards and stepped into the warm summer morning. The sun was reflecting off downtown Pittsburgh’s buildings, with O’Connell Enterprises’ towering black glass structure standing out like a massive castle in Market Square.
Bryce O’Connell was the CEO of O’Connell Enterprises, Inc. He had built his tech empire from the ground up by himself. He gave to every charity under the sun and was truly a business prodigy. How a man who drove his secretaries insane was considered such a saint was beyond me.
I headed briskly across the square to a nearby copy shop that could make and bind thirty copies of the presentation within two hours, possibly even delivering them to the office.
The small shop, just two blocks away, was usually efficient with three people working. I crossed my fingers that it wasn’t busy and breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“Piper, you’re back.”
“Hi, Jack,” I said, dumping the papers on the counter.
“Same as usual?”
“Thirty by one?”
“For O’Connell?”
“Who else?” I asked.
“I’ll put it on the account and have everything couriered over to you.” The old man smiled warmly at me.
“I owe you one, Jack!”
I dashed out of the copy place and headed straight for Gloria’s. It had the best coffee in town, and I wanted the jerk on my side—at least for the day. I grabbed the largest cup of caramel macchiato that I could get and a large French vanilla for myself.
It was already late morning, and I still hadn’t called the caterer. I ran as fast as my high heels would allow, my shoes clicking on the pavement and the marble in the lobby of the building. I tapped my toe the entire elevator ride up to the tenth floor. I held the cups as steady as I could as I ran, quickly putting mine down as I prepared for him.
“Mr. O’Connell?” I knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open with my hip.
“Really, Miss Troy,” he said, impatience lacing his voice.
I froze mid-turn and kept my back to him. “I’m so sorry, are you decent?”
“Yes!” he said, and I was sure I heard embarrassment that time. “Come in and get on with it, please.”
I stepped in and chanced a glance at my boss. He was staring at the corner, not meeting my eyes, his cheeks pink.
I swallowed. “Everything will be delivered by noon. Here’s a proper cup of coffee. I’m going to make calls to Vincent’s for catering.”
“Mm,” he mumbled, looking anywhere but at me.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked, collecting the boardroom key and making my way for the door.
“No…thank you,” he said softly.
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought Bryce O’Connell was brooding over something. But I couldn’t worry over that. Time was ticking against me to get everything set up. I took a gulp of my own coffee and made final arrangements.
Time slipped away from me, and before I knew it, the caterer arrived.
“I need to get to the boardroom and forget today ever happened. Oh, fuck me.”
The boardroom, with its sweeping view of Point State Park, was one of the most stunning spaces in the building, and Bryce used it every time he needed to impress clients. I arranged the binders in perfect alignment around the table while the waitstaff from Vincent’s set up the buffet, fussing over every detail.
Just as I stepped back to admire my work, the door swung open with a bang. The blonde woman from Bryce’s office strode in, striking her nose up at the space as if she smelled something rotten. She had an air of arrogance and entitlement.
“Who are you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as she approached.
“Melinda,” she said, dismissing my question with a wave of her hand. “I’m with Bryce. The coffee in this place is absolute shit. So you go fetch me a caramel macchiato from that café down the street.”
I blinked, taken aback. “That’s not really—”
“Just do it,” she interrupted, her tone sharp. “And make it quick. I can’t start my day without it.”
Before I could respond, she turned on her heel, striding past me toward the restroom. “I need to freshen up,” she called over her shoulder, leaving me standing there, a mix of irritation and disbelief swirling in my chest.
Shaking off the encounter, I returned to my preparations, determined to prove my worth, no matter who walked through that door.
I stood with the corporate caterer in the boardroom, my pen dancing across the notepad as I made sure every detail was covered.
“Can you confirm that the pasta is freshly cooked? Mr. O’Connell hates cold pasta. His vinaigrette dressing must be chilled properly, and the red wine should be decanted at room temperature. The white wine, of course, needs to stay cold. Red wine glasses are in the cabinets to your left, and white to your right. The china is below the buffet. And use the silver forks, knives, and spoons with the ivy pattern—those are his favorites,” I rattled off, glancing out the window as guests began to gather.
“Yes, ma’am,” one of the waiters said, his nerves showing as he fidgeted with the plates.
“Just smile. Everything will be fine as long as you smile,” I reassured them, walking up and down the line of servers like a drill sergeant. “Button your top button. Your shoe is scuffed. Straighten your apron. And that’s the wrong knot on your tie—redo it.”
As I finished my final sweep, Mr. O’Connell barged into the room like a hurricane. “Miss Troy, is everything ready?”
“Yes, Mr. O’Connell. Lunch is ready. The red wine is airing, the white is chilled, and your slides are loaded. Would you like the shades drawn now or later?”
“After lunch,” he replied, pacing around the room with his hands clasped behind his back.
I stood by, waiting with bated breath as he inspected everything. His gaze finally landed on the bound files. He picked them up and held them aloft, as though they were covered in mud.
“What is this?” he demanded.
“Your files, sir. The ones you requested this morning.”
He dropped them onto the table with a sharp thud, turning his glare on me. “What is wrong with them?”
I quickly glanced down at the files and then back up at him, my pulse quickening. “I don’t know?”
“Why are they bound with this tacky plastic cover like a high school report?” His words dripped with disdain.
“Oh…uh, that’s what the copy shop sent over. They must have mixed up my order when they were binding.”
“You didn’t stay while the job was done?”
“No, Mr. O’Connell,” I replied, swallowing my nerves. “I didn’t have time. I had to get back to contact the caterer and oversee the setup.”
He clicked his tongue in irritation and continued pacing around the room. I watched him silently inspect the servers, shaking his head at each small imperfection he spotted. When he finished, he turned to me, his expression unreadable.
“I suppose that will be all for now, Miss Troy.”
“Yes, Mr. O’Connell,” I replied, quickly excusing myself from the room. The moment I was out of sight, I let out a long breath. “Oh God.”
“Lunch?” Alyssa appeared as if on cue, walking toward me.
“Yes! I’m starving,” I replied, feeling the tension ease as I fell into step beside her.
“How’s dreamy-eyes?” she asked with a teasing smile.
“An impossible monster,” I groaned.
“You like him,” she teased, nudging me as we made our way toward the elevator.
“Yeah, right. That man is going to be the death of me. Or I’ll be the death of him. I haven’t decided yet.”
“There’s some serious sexual tension going on there. You two need to fuck, get it out of the way, and move on with your work lives.”
“Alyssa, I am not going to fuck my boss. Especially not Bryce O’Connell.”
“You should fuck him because he’s Bryce O’Connell. He’s gorgeous and rich.”
“He’s also pig-headed, rude, and insufferable. Exactly what I look for in a man,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.
“You don’t need his personality. Just his dick,” Alyssa quipped, her laughter contagious.
“Where are we going?” Alyssa asked, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“Anywhere that’s not here,” I muttered, scanning the crowd. A woman with a tiny, yappy dog brushed past me while another juggled a stroller and two toddlers, loudly chatting on her phone.
“How about Johnny’s?” Alyssa suggested.
“I love that place. They have amazing pickles. Let’s go.”
“Pickles?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Mm-hmm, pickles.”
We found a table in the back corner of Johnny’s and sat down, ready to escape for a while. Just as I was about to put my phone away, it buzzed. I groaned.
“What is it?”
“It’s him.” I turned the screen toward her so she could see for herself.
“Possessive much?” Alyssa rolled her eyes, grabbing a menu as if the message wasn’t worth her attention.
“I don’t get him.” I sighed.
“I’m telling you, Pipes, fuck the man. Once the two of you fuck, the air will be clear. Work will be less stressful for you; perhaps he’ll get the stick out of his ass, and all will be well in the office.”
“Alyssa, I am not fucking my boss.” I picked up my menu and pretended to read it.
“I don’t think it’s such an awful idea; plus, you have to be the only woman in the world who doesn’t want to fuck him.”
“I’m sure there are others out there who don’t want to.”
“Yeah, and they’re called lesbians.”
“Come on, Alyssa. You’re so dramatic. He’s not that good-looking; plus, you don’t work for him.” I rolled my eyes.
“He was voted world’s sexiest man alive last year, Piper.”
“So?” I slapped my menu against the table.
“That has to mean something.”
I shrugged my shoulders. Yeah, the man was gorgeous. His personality sucked, though. That had to count for something, didn’t it? Or were we expected to just drop our panties for Bryce O’Connell because he was a genius, billionaire, and playboy who looked like a god?
I crossed and uncrossed my legs at the unexpected dampness that developed between my thighs. I had never been turned on thinking about him before. I didn’t want to think of him in such a way. He was the evil jerk who loved to make my life hell—not the gorgeous CEO philanthropist everyone thought he was.
Anyway, I didn’t want to fuck my boss.
