By a Thread: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy

The morning of my forty-fifth year on this revolving circus began with my naked girlfriend rolling on top of me and fucking me until I went blind and lost the power of speech. It was, what I considered to be, the best birthday gift I’d ever received to date.

Apparently, Ally was just getting started. She insisted we stop for “birthday tea” on the way into the office. Then gave me an entirely inappropriate birthday kiss just outside the office doors.

I’d actually gone a little weak in the knees when she walked away. Chalking it up to more dehydration, I watched that sexy ass sway in the curve-hugging Dior skirt I’d snuck into her side of the closet.

Gola was waiting outside my office with a smile and a goddamn birthday cupcake. It had an actual candle in it.

I was oddly touched and covered the moment by threatening to fire her if she sang one bar of “Happy Birthday.”

A month or two ago, that threat would have had every woman—and several of the men—in a twenty-foot radius running for cover. Now, Gola laughed and reminded me that I had birthday lunch plans with Ally.

What the hell were birthday lunch plans?

Food truck ramen. That’s what. Maybe it was holding Ally’s hand on the three-block walk. Or maybe it was listening to her talk about the graphics she was designing for a June piece on espadrilles. Maybe it was that nudge of spring I could almost smell on the air. April was coming.

Whatever it was, I felt almost… light.

She squinted up at me. “What’s happening with your face right now?”

It was probably having an allergic reaction to the ramen. I reached up to touch my cheek, and she snickered.

I got the joke.

What was happening with my face was that I was sitting on a low wall with a woman I’d brought to orgasm with my tongue before most people had opened their eyes for the day. A woman who was doing her damndest to make my stupid birthday special.

I, Dominic Russo, was smiling.

That odd facial contortion stayed with me as we walked back to the office. As I brushed a kiss over Ally’s lips, once, twice on the sidewalk in front of the building.

Her hat—a felt, emerald green trench I’d snuck out of a photo shoot for her—made her brown eyes even warmer.

“You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks pinked up, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the wind. There was a stirring in my chest. That odd, heartburny glow rose up again. I realized I’d be content to stand right here with Ally Morales looking up at me just like that for the rest of the day. The week. Hell, I’d free up all of April if it meant I could keep feeling like this.

“Dominic.”

God, would there ever be a time when my name on her lips wasn’t a fucking shot of adrenaline?

“Ally.”

“When you look at me like that it makes me dizzy,” she confessed

“Good,” I said. I didn’t want to be the only one off-balance here. This was something… different, almost comforting. Something apart from the lust-fueled obsession I’d gotten used to. I hoped to hell I wasn’t just imagining it.

That afternoon, Linus dropped off a very nice bottle of whiskey tied with a black bow. My meeting with the online content team was kicked off with fancy teas and muffins. Even Shayla had muttered a “Happy Birthday” before insisting that we were going in the wrong direction with a sidebar on bucket bags.

My mother sent me a huge arrangement of showy white flowers, a ridiculous gold paper party hat—which made me roll my eyes—and a very nice Armani jacket that I didn’t mind at all. She was out of the office all day working with designers and coordinators for the upcoming gala in May. It was one of the biggest nights in New York fashion every year, and as always, my attendance was expected.

I wondered if Ally would like to go and how creatively she’d commit to the theme. Or, more accurately, how creatively she’d make me commit to the theme.

And then I realized how quickly I’d begun making plans that revolved around her. It was less of a battle every night to get her to stay. She had things at my place, space in my closet. I’d insisted that she start doing her laundry at my place so I wouldn’t have to miss out on a few hours with her every weekend.

We had routines now. Early morning and late night walks around the block with Brownie. Naked Sunday brunch. I knew where all the hardware stores within a five-mile radius of her father’s house were because we spent so much of our weekends in them.

It was disconcerting to wake up one day and find myself… well. Here. Making plans for two instead of one. Looking forward to sharing things like beds and weekends and closet space. I’d dated before. But I’d never gotten this deep, this fast. I’d never made space in my home for a woman before. Change was happening, and I didn’t know how I felt about it.

Did I like it, or did it terrify me? Should I start applying the brakes?

After all, we hadn’t talked future. Not really. Ally was just trying to survive the next few months. Things would be different when the house was sold. When her father’s situation was secure. When she had choices and the resources to make them.

Would she choose me when she didn’t have to rely on me for a roof? For good cheeses and nights out and clothing not previously owned by half of the city?

Did I want her, or did I want to be needed?

There it was. That little icy finger of doubt that I’d been waiting for. I’d learned over and over again to be careful. To not give too much of myself. Because it never seemed like it was enough. That’s why I did things anonymously. Like Buddy’s wife’s physical therapy. Buddy didn’t know it was me. Which meant he couldn’t ask me for more.

When would Ally start asking for more?

A text popped up on my phone.

Ally: Getting to know you birthday edition. Gun to your head. If you had to choose between vanilla cake with chocolate icing or a chocolate cake with peanut butter icing, what would you choose?

And there it was again. That stupid smile on my face.

Me: I thought I told you not to use the V word in my presence?

I let myself into the foyer, leaving the cold night at my back. I’d stayed late for a generally useless conference call with the west coast. All I wanted was a quiet night with my dog and my lady. Ally had promised me a home-cooked birthday dinner and one present to unwrap.

Brownie trotted up to me.

“Hey, buddy. What are you doing out here?” I leaned down to give him a good scruffing and found he was wearing a sparkly green bowtie. “Let me guess. A birthday bowtie?”

Brownie jumped up and licked my face from chin to hairline.

“Really have to call that trainer.” I sighed, leading the way into the house.

It was dark inside, but something smelled good. Like home-cooked meal good.

“Maleficent?” I called out.

The lights—all of them—came on in a flash.

“Surprise!”

“Jesus H. Christ,” I groaned. I hated surprises.

My kitchen was full of people. Harry and Delaney were there with their girls—who were currently shrieking “happy birthday, Uncle Dominic” at the top of their lungs. Linus, his wife, and their three kids wore matching all-black outfits and were blowing the hell out of those obnoxious noisemaker things. Gola and Ruth were pouring champagne.

My neighbors, Sascha and Elton, waved from the stove where they were dishing out bowls of something. Jace was hugging Brownie and letting the dog eat his face. My mother, who was supposed to be on a plane right now, beamed at me from where she sat at the island, a gin martini in front of her. Her long-time best friend, Simone, was beside her. They were laughing. Ally’s New Jersey neighbors Mrs. Grosu and Mr. Mohammad were lighting candles on a chocolate cake.

I counted four guys from my old office lingering near the alcohol, typical for them.

Ally’s best friend, Faith, was playing DJ in the corner with my wireless speakers. And Christian Fucking James was lurking near the cheese tray.

Every single one of them wore a ridiculous gold party hat just like the one my mother had sent me.

And then there was Ally.

Front and center in the black Valentino dress I’d snuck into the closet just two days ago. It hugged her breasts and waist before flaring out into a short, flirty skirt. I’d intended for her to wear it for me with the express purpose of me taking it off her, which would unfortunately have to wait until I could get these people out of my house. Her party hat was askew on top of those thick, loose curls that I loved. But it was her smile that hit me the hardest.

She was bone-deep happy. And it was just for me. It was all for me.

She danced over to me and threw her arms around my neck. “Happy Birthday, Charming,” she whispered in my ear. “Were you surprised?”

Surprised didn’t even begin to describe the feelings I was having. “Appalled,” I told her. “Why the hell is Christian James in my house? I hate that guy.”

“You only think you hate him,” she teased. “I have an ulterior motive there. Don’t you worry your pretty little birthday head about it.”

“Potluck? Really?” I teased, noting the mismatched dishes and trays on the island.

She beamed up at me for remembering our little inside joke. “Potluck food and alcohol. No presents. And the only thing you get to unwrap tonight is me, and I’m not wearing anything under this dress.”

“You’re in huge amounts of trouble,” I warned her.

“You can punish me later,” she promised, pulling back and raising on tiptoe to kiss me on the mouth.

It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. “Don’t think I won’t.”