One Bossy Dare: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Bossy Seattle Suits)

With Destiny turning in early for the night, I hunker down in my home office, checking emails and still hounded by thoughts of that insufferable woman.

Somehow, I’m smiling when I notice I have a new lab report from Eliza waiting in my email.

No acid message this time, dripping with sarcasm. Just the summary.

I shouldn’t care about these damnable emails anyway. She’s just another employee—even if she’s an enormously valuable one holding the key to the company’s future.

Only, I do.

For some unholy reason, they’ve become the highlight of my overgrown jungle of an Inbox. Over the last three days she’s worked for me, I’ve started anticipating them like a kid waiting for Christmas morning.

Her lack of any bullshit in the emails surprises me.

She’s trying to be all business, buttoned down and boringly polite.

Good for her. For everyone’s sake.

But fuck, I just can’t be that gracious. Can’t resist the urge to rib her a little more.

Consider it justified payback for our last encounter, which undoubtedly gave the lab personnel a month’s worth of gossip.

How’s my mocha coming along? I hit reply.

Miss Angelo’s response comes a minute later. Peachy. I’m just working out some kinks now.

I glance at the time. It’s after ten o’clock at night and she’s still working?

I frown, remembering that the main security force changes over to a skeleton crew at ten. That means nothing but cameras in the attached parking garage.

A hundred unlikely scenarios flash through my head, each more terrible than the last. Does she stay this late because I made it personal?

Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have thrown down the gauntlet in front of half the development team. If only she weren’t being such a fiery little smartass…

With a sigh, I pick up my phone and punch her contact.

“Hello?” She sounds surprised she’s getting a call this late.

“It’s fine if you want to postpone the next tasting until next week. You’re a new employee. I don’t seriously expect you to strike coffee gold multiple times in one week,” I tell her flatly.

“Does that mean you’re scared, Mr. Lancaster?” she throws back, a fluttery laugh at the edge of her voice. “What? Are you worried you’ll look bad because you told me no one could come up with a second scorched drink in three days?”

The mouth on this girl.

I feel my lip curl with amusement and disgust.

“Hardly, but it’s well past standard work hours and you must have pulled a sixteen-hour day. Are you still at the lab?”

“…it’s either do it here or carry on with the basic setup I have at home, but we both prefer the high-end stuff. So, yeah.”

“Go home, Miss Angelo.” My hand slaps my desk.

“Not yet. Busy.”

“Obviously, I have high expectations, but I don’t expect you to sacrifice sleep. I’ve never seen anything good come out of my staff when they’re worn raw. Get some rest. We’ll do the testing next week.” I clench my jaw, hoping like hell she listens just once.

“Jeez, you say it like you’ll come and tuck me in personally.”

For a second, I stop breathing.

My brain descends into this terrible hell where I’m hovering over Eliza Angelo like a vampire, stripped bare with nothing but a sheet over her.

Goddamn. Tucking her in would be my last choice in those circumstances.

“Miss Angelo, please—” I start, but she cuts me off.

“You don’t understand. I’m having fun. Sometimes I do my best work when it’s late and quiet and my mind isn’t overloaded like it is during the day. I brewed like this at home, too.”

Frankly, I don’t give a shit if she turns into a genius night owl. I don’t want her walking through that garage alone.

“Not the point. You shouldn’t be at the office so late. It’s unconventional for anyone who’s not on the security team.”

“Aren’t there cameras everywhere? You don’t have to worry about me robbing you, Lancaster.”

I hold in a snort.

“Woman, you’re a piece of work. That’s the furthest thing from my mind and you know it.”

“Yeah? So, what are you worried about then?” She truly doesn’t get it.

Fuck.

“I’m concerned about you walking to your car in the dark. Security pares down to a handful of people after ten. You shouldn’t be there by yourself, especially leaving the building alone.” I realize how ridiculous I must sound.

“You’re in luck. I usually bike or take the bus,” she says.

“That’s even worse,” I snarl, pressing my hand into a fist.

“How nice of you to grow a conscience. Unfortunately, my drill sergeant boss wants another scorched drink by the end of the week. Where will I develop it if I’m not here? Oh, and by the way, can I just say that has to be like the worst working name ever? Remember the last time you went to a café and ordered burnt coffee? But, hey, you’re the bossman. Who am I to argue with Commander Coffee?”

“Badger Lady, do you ever shut it?”

“No—and did you just call me a badger?” She sounds surprised.

“Not my call. Destiny said you were a honey badger after the incident at the shop on seventh. She said you tore me apart without a care in the world.”

“Smart girl, Captain Coffee. Guess you did one thing right, raising her.”

I can’t hold back anymore, chuckling deeply into the phone.

“I’m fifteen years deep, so I suppose I’ll keep her. Also, I thought I was Commander Coffee? Did you just promote me?”

“Just changed my mind. You’re a pretty big jerkwad sometimes. But you need to come up with something better than ‘scorched drinks’ for a name.”

“That’s what I have Marketing for. They’ll pick better names that resonate when we’re ready for that stage. In the meantime, I’ll come up with the code words in development. I’m still the CEO.”

“Okay, Moby Dick. I have to go.”

“Wasn’t Moby the goddamned whale?” I ask, bewildered.

“You’re right about one thing—it’s too late to discuss literature with you. Now, do you want your new scorched drink or not? I need to do a quick taste test and hope it’s not as burnt as the name says.”

“Miss Angelo, sign off. Go home now. Or else I’ll start restricting lab access for everyone as part of a new security policy.”

She gasps. For a solid ten seconds, she’s silent.

“Why are you so worried? You’re scaring me, Lancaster. I might think you actually do care,” she says, her voice so small.

“I care about the quality of my product—that involves your health and safety,” I grind out, turning my face away from the phone

Shit.

Way to play the grade-school, tugging-on-the-cute-girl’s-pigtails game.

I clear my throat before I continue. “I care deeply about my employees’ well-being, of course. Until now, I never had to worry about my lab people staying so late. There are also liability issues. Insurance is hideously expensive.”

“What-ever. Softie.” She laughs loudly again and hangs up.

I slump back in my chair with a groan.

I think the most annoying woman ever born is onto me.

The next day, I’m back in my office with a steaming black Americano at my side, reviewing a proposal.

I’ve got a meeting in less than two hours, and I need to close this out.

The deafening knock at my door doesn’t care.

“Who is it?” I yell back.

I don’t need more interruptions right now.

The door swings open. Katelyn Storm stands behind Destiny with an exasperated look.

Dess stares at the floor with the same sheepish face I’ve seen a thousand times.

“Do I want to know?” I fold my arms, knowing what’s up before I even ask.

Something’s wrong.

Kate crosses her arms, and from her posture, I can already tell she’s set to give me hell. “You know I have twin boys, right?”

“I’m aware,” I say slowly.

“They did the whole job shadowing thing a few months ago. Only, they don’t listen to me and they’re pure chaos together. They had to choose a place where their parents don’t work, and they couldn’t choose the same place because I guess no one deserves that,” Kate says without taking a breath.

“Okay?” I’m not sure where this is going, but I know it’s nowhere good.

“So, one son was Microsoft’s problem while his brother went off to harass Alaska Airlines. But my employer—aka, you—didn’t have the foresight to make his kiddo someone else’s problem. Now, what I don’t understand is why I’m being punished for it.”

Fuck. Because I thought my daughter could handle this job without piling misery on my poor EA?

“What did you do?” I give Destiny a stern look.

Her head darts up like a deer hearing a rustle in the brush, her lower lip protruding.

“Um. Nothing.”

My eyes shift to Kate, knowing it’s something, or they wouldn’t be here.

“She’s not lying, actually,” she says with a soft smile for Dess. “That’s what she did. Absolutely nothing. But now the filing isn’t done because you told me she needed stuff to do, so I saved a week’s worth of it for her. When I came back, everything was still boxed up just like I left it.”

My eyes fall on my daughter, watching her face turn into a tomato.

“Anything else, Katelyn?” I ask.

“Well, one more thing.” She strides forward, leaning over my desk with a whisper. “She took off for a two-hour lunch earlier. I’m not sure where she went, because there’s nowhere around here where you can lounge around and eat for hours without someone trying to turn you out for table space.”

I look behind her, again fixing my eyes on Destiny.

“Just thought you’d want to know. I’m going to go catch up on the filing. I’ll leave you two to talk it out.” My assistant retreats with her usual tact, knowing when to leave things in my hands.

My gaze on Dess hardens.

“Explain yourself,” I say.

She sucks in a deep, frustrated breath, no doubt spinning teenage half-truths by the second. “Okay. So, like, don’t be mad, but I was going to this new pizza place just past Pier 67 and the fancy hotel, but I stopped by the ferries to Canada and there was this cluster of baby seals. They were all—” She pauses, imitating fins with her arms. “Arf, arf, arf! Take a picture with me—”

Goddamn.

It’s torture keeping a straight face. She might be fifteen, but she’ll always be an adorable little girl to me, and her seal impression doesn’t help me stay mad.

Still, I try like hell not to laugh, pressing my lips together into a thin line.

“So, um, I had to take pictures with them. I threw them up on Instagram and I got over a hundred likes and comments before I even left! I was there for over an hour, Dad, so by the time I got to the pizza place…it was late and I was starving, okay? And like how important can these files be if they’re not even digital? Why does your company still have so much paper?”

I suck in a breath, mulling it over.

“Destiny, you’re fifteen. You’re here on assignment in a grown-up work environment. You can’t just disappear unsupervised for hours—no matter how cute the wildlife might be. This isn’t just about your work schedule, either. How many times have I told you Seattle isn’t always safe when you’re alone?”

“Dad, in three years, I’m going to be completely unsupervised. Basically forever. I’m thinking about New York City…” Her eyes flare, taking the chance to rub it in. She’ll be on the other side of the country. “Do you really think you need to worry about me for a couple measly hours?”

“Worrying is what dads do. You know that. I think you’re taking advantage of this job shadowing situation because I’m your old man. You need to put work first, little bee. Your future before internet likes.” I lean back in my chair with a muffled groan of exasperation.

She rolls her eyes, huffing a breath.

“Okay, but—I don’t actually love coffee, you know? I definitely don’t love filing, data entry, and the other boring stuff Katelyn has me do. Kinda hate it, actually.” She sighs and looks away before meeting my eyes again. “What if I don’t want anything to do with Wired Cup someday? What if I want to be a marine biologist or something? Shouldn’t I be shadowing seals?”

“The seals aren’t biologists, Dess,” I point out.

“Well, neither is anybody here.” She huffs out a breath.

That makes me crack a half smile.

“You really want to be a marine biologist?”

“Arf. Yes!” She does the fin thing with her arms again.

I shake my head, grabbing my phone. “Hold on. I’m recording that for posterity—or just your friends.”

“Dad, no!” Her jaw drops. She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Be serious.”

The heavy look I give her could break weight records.

“If you’re completely serious about this new passion, I’ll see about getting you an internship at a marine sanctuary,” I say.

“Really?” She brightens, her dirty-blond ponytail bobbing behind her.

“Yeah. Back in my Navy days, they were marked on the maps all the time. Hmm.” I pause, stroking my chin thoughtfully. “If I recall right, there’s a fine one in Barrow, Alaska. That should keep you out of my hair for a while. As long as you like husky sleigh rides and all the hot chocolate you can drink.”

“Dad! That’s just…brrr. No.” She clutches her shoulders like she’s freezing.

You know you’ve got a teenager on the ropes when you’ve rendered her speechless.

“What do you have against Alaska, Destiny?”

But before she can answer and beg for an internship in SoCal or Mexico, there’s another knock at my door.

“Not again. I’m dead in here!” I call through the door, properly annoyed.

“He’s alive,” Destiny calls after me.

“Snitch.”

The door opens and Eliza Angelo stands in front of me, looking like every man’s mad scientist fantasy with her chestnut hair blown back, framing those strawberry lips and caramel eyes too perfectly. She clutches a thermos in each hand.

“Did something escape the lab? You look like you’re on the hunt,” I joke, mostly for Destiny’s sake. Mostly.

“And you missed our appointment for the tasting.”

My eyes flick to the clock on my computer.

Shit, she’s right.

“My apologies. Unexpected disruption. My daughter found some baby seals and ghosted us for a few hours. I was just trying to help her understand why that’s not a good idea in a professional environment.”

She looks at Destiny with a fondness shining in her eyes. “Don’t piss your dad off, young lady. It doesn’t get any easier than this. You’ll be back in school soon and the rest of us still have to deal with him.”

“Sorry,” Dess says.

My eyes flick from the crazy badger lady to my daughter.

“Hold on. You don’t know her besides watching her tear me apart in my store and you’re being this nice?” I snort.

Destiny nods, her lips turning up in a lopsided smile.

“She gets an apology and I get lip? Dess, I’ve taken care of you your whole life. Tell me how the hell that works?”

“Dad, I—”

“Guys.” Miss Angelo claps her hands together softly. “I hate to interrupt whatever weird family thing is happening, but I was up all night working on this and…and someone’s drinking it today. So, what are we trying first? Latte or mocha?”

I hate that I’m impressed.

Her desire to cut the crap and get down to business fires a missile at my own heart.

“You managed a latte and a mocha? Did you forget I just wanted one good specialty drink?” Apparently, my body forgot it’s not supposed to have an electric current in her presence.

She grins. “They’re prototypes, right? I wanted to offer you two drinks so I can cross compare, knowing one will turn out better than the other. That way, I can keep refining the weaker drink.”

Or she’s that terrified of me hating her efforts and demanding better. I don’t say it, of course.

Time will tell.

Either the drinks are shit, or she’s more talented than I dreamed.

“Bold choice. How did you come up with two distinct beverages in such a short time?” I ask.

“The latte is something I was already thinking about and the mocha is just a variation with chocolate. So are we ready?” Her eyes are damn near gleaming with excitement.

Maybe she’s not nervous. I should be happy about that—if only a small, buried part of me didn’t want her to find me intimidating.

“I want the mocha!” Dess meets my eyes. “You made one good decision this week, Dad. You hired Badger Lady.”

“Miss Angelo,” I correct, even as my daughter rolls her eyes.

“I actually prefer Eliza,” she says.

“Eliza! I love that name.” Destiny beams at her like she’s offering a tall glass of Bailey’s rather than a frigging burned mocha. She holds out her fist.

Eliza stares back, confused for a moment, then bumps her fist with a soft laugh.

“Fine, we’ll start with the mocha. Don’t give Destiny too much,” I say, holding in a smile while Dess glares at me.

I duck behind my desk to fetch a few cups.

Eliza sets both hulking Yetis on my desk. She opens the pink one first and pours a muddy dark liquid with a strong cocoa scent into the cup I set out.

“I can smell the chocolate. Miss Angelo, it better be dark and delicious and the bane of Destiny’s sweet tooth. We do not want any sugar-lick frou-frou drinks,” I say.

She stops, swinging the cup she was about to hand to me over to Destiny.

“I’m the CEO,” I warn.

“Yeah, but she’s nicer.”

Destiny doesn’t hesitate, taking a long pull from her cup.

“Whoa. It’s like tasting a bakery. So good! Dad, you don’t even know you’re drinking coffee until you swallow it and—bam!—mule kick.”

I wonder if my baby girl will ever come up with an analogy that doesn’t make me think of hooves to the face.

“Let me try it,” I grind out, reaching for the cup.

Dess passes it over.

I drink deeply and settle back in my chair, swishing it from one cheek to the next like I was taught to do at five different wineries.

Even for me, the sweetness is tolerable. Present, but not overwhelming, which is key for letting the other flavors come through.

Roasted marshmallow.

Dark chocolate.

Smoky undertones.

That bourbon taste that isn’t really bourbon.

Yeah, it’s interesting, all right.

The only thing keeping this from being liquified s’mores in a cup is the missing graham cracker. I swallow and look at my lab girl.

Goddamn, has she been watching me this whole time?

I decide to ignore it.

I need to make sure this wasn’t a happy accident born from Eliza working herself sleepless and stirring together whatever she thought would taste good in just the right ratios.

“What are we going for with this, Miss Angelo? Explain.”

“S’mores,” she says with a smile that hooks my gaze.

“It mirrors the flavor well,” I agree. “However, you’re still missing the graham cracker.”

Her smile fades. That sour look I’ve come to know so well returns.

“Good job, Miss Angelo! No one else could have come up with roasted marshmallows perfectly folded in chocolate in less than three days. We just need graham crackers and it’s all gravy,” she mimics me, her voice lowered an octave or two. “Thanks, boss. Glad you like it so much.”

The thumbs-up she aims my way feels like a loaded gun. It’s pure hell not laughing.

“Don’t worry what he thinks. He’s a perfectionist porcupine. I like it and I want to share it with all my friends,” Dess says cheerfully.

“That drink doesn’t see the light of day until I say so,” I remind her. “It’s company property.”

“Oh, Daddykins…” Destiny’s eye roll could shame every cheerleader in her peer group.

“For the record, I pay Miss Angelo quite well to worry about what I think.” I look at Eliza, who’s staring back with boiling eyes. “And I have to believe you’ve been working on that for longer than three days.”

“Is that a compliment?” She perches a hand on one hip. “Prove it.”

“What else do you have for me?” I ask, ignoring her challenge.

“Eh, if you didn’t like that, I’m not sure you’ll like this one either. It’s basically the same concept, only it’s a latte. More cream and less marshmallow.” She opens the blue thermos and pours a beige-brown liquid into the cup.

At least she hands me the cup without any shit, this time, and not my kid. Maybe miracles can happen.

My sip becomes a slurp as the lighter, almost foamy drink glides over my tongue.

“This, I like, without any fussing over the graham cracker. Consider it ready for market.”

“Let me try it!” Destiny lunges for the cup.

I pass it over—almost reluctantly—but I wonder what her younger verdict will be as she takes a sip. “Ohhh, silky! Yum.”

“It’s still a lighter s’mores take, and yes, we’re missing the graham crackers,” Miss Angelo says, tapping a finger on the corner of her lips. “I’d like to figure out a work-around to add that in. I thought maybe pairing a Belgian cookie with a graham cracker crust in the s’mores line would be better than adding graham cracker crumble to the drink as a finish…”

I reach for the cup. Destiny hands it over, and I take another drink.

“Forget the cracker. We can call it roasted marshmallow latte and move on, but I’m noticing a slight hint of chocolate. Nothing like the mocha, but it’s there and it’s interesting.”

For once, she looks at me like she isn’t planning my murder.

“Yep, good call. I mixed cacao beans in with the coffee beans when I brewed it up. Then I boiled sugar and vanilla into the cream I steamed for the latte.”

“Thoughtful, Miss Angelo. Your ideas are on point.” I look away before my compliment goes to her already inflated head. “I’m not sure a food pairing will achieve the full effect, though. If you want to sell me a true s’mores experience, I need the combination in the cup, ideally.”

“Oh, I’ll work on it, but I doubt it happens today…”

“Oh!” Destiny gasps. “Wait, Dad, I have an idea.”

I look at her, dangerously skeptical.

My daughter’s ideas—especially the ones she gets really excited about—are rarely practical.

“Don’t keep me in abject terror, Dess.”

“I should shadow Eliza,” she blurts out.

Aw, hell. I’m a little disappointed it’s not suggesting we add ostrich egg yolks to the drinks or something equally absurd.

Eliza smiles softly at her and nods. “Sure, come knock yourself out. I’m cool with it if your dad is.”

“What are you up to, Dess? You realize shadowing Miss Angelo means long hours locked in the lab?” I say, side-eyeing her hard.

“Um, yeah. Making cookies has to be less boring than the stuff you do up here.” She turns to Eliza. “Can I test them, too?”

She laughs. There’s nothing remotely badger-like about her when I see those red lips peeled back, that gleam in her eyes, the way she looks so deliciously innocent while she’s being nothing but gracious with my dearest brat.

“Isn’t that the best part of baking?” Eliza says.

“Destiny, you’re supposed to be studying management. You need to learn how to run this place—”

“Yeah, but…we literally wouldn’t have coffee shops without the people who develop the products, right? So I have to learn this if I’m ever going to run anything.” Destiny smiles at me defiantly.

My little girl’s growing up before my eyes, wielding her logic like a weapon.

“Well, Eliza isn’t making cookies for one—”

Miss Angelo’s face falls. “What? Not even when they’re directly related to the drink line? You said you needed the pairing to make a decision…”

“You’ll email the food R & D team for their input. Tell them what you’re after and they’ll put it together. We compartmentalize food and beverages so we can pair them up properly in the end,” I tell her.

“That sounds…limiting,” She says. She really means stupid. “That’s like saying we could bring in the Dunkin’ CEO to do your job.”

“Just give them your damn recipe,” I snap.

“Relax. I’m still experimenting.”

“Just like the food team. They’ll experiment using their specialized knowledge and confer with you when it’s done.”

Here we go again.

Our gazes lock like dueling swords, angrily waiting for the other person to blink.

This time, Miss Angelo cracks first.

“You think this is a science. It’s not,” she says softly. “Brewing these drinks is art, even if it’s happening in your shiny corporate lab. I can’t just download my brain and pass it on. With someone else working on a key part of my recipe, I can’t know what needs altering until I taste it and send the notes. That’s a lot of extra steps.”

“Do you know what enterprise is?” I ask with a sigh.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to lecture me, professor,” she says.

From the corner, Destiny covers her laugh with a hand. Barely.

My eyes flick to her and she flashes me an apologetic smile.

“It’s where art meets science. There have to be rules to the process—boundaries—or you’ll never make the same batch twice,” I say. “Also, it’s rather inefficient for one person to juggle five jobs instead of excelling at one.”

“So, you want to turn what’s basically a culinary art into an assembly line? And you wonder why your drinks are described as reliable?”

Damn her, I walked right into that one.

She looks at Destiny again. “Wanna go make some reliable, boring coffee for your dad?”

“Sure! Why not?” Destiny hops off the armrest of the sofa against the wall.

“You’re sure she won’t be in the way while you’re trying to work?” I call after them.

“Oh, she can’t be worse than the older Lancaster. She’s not jaded enough yet.” Then, like the honey-eyed badger she is, Eliza turns on her heels and walks out the door.

Destiny follows close behind her. I hear their fading voices, already chattering away about the seals she saw during lunch.

Jaded? That last comment irks me because it cuts too deep, even if Eliza Angelo can’t know it.

That settles it then.

I’ll show them I’m not so jaded I’m walled off to new ideas.

Even if it means the damn Badger Lady stealing my daughter and corrupting her with that attitude.

Destiny doesn’t talk much when we get home.

She just scarfs down her internet famous ‘hot girl salad’—goddamn, do I hate that name—and goes to bed, leaving behind a familiar silence.

This house is so big she could sneak right out and I’d never hear her.

Over an hour later, after studying every high-end graham cracker in existence, I climb the stairs to her room and nudge her door open an inch.

She’s sleeping like a kitten, curled up in her bed, still hugging the same oversized bumblebee she’s had for ages. I brought it home from a coffee conference in Vietnam when she was two years old. She’s kept it through several moves and at least two professional mendings to keep it clean and shapely.

I watch as she turns over, fighting with her orthodontic headgear for a minute before she shoves it off without ever fully waking up.

“Love you, little bee,” I whisper.

There’s no denying she’ll always be the baby in my heart, even when I’m walking her down the aisle someday, giving her up to whatever idiot decides he wants to deal with a lifetime of my shit.

Her teeth grind loudly. She remembered the headgear, but not the night guard.

I slip inside and walk to her bathroom, wash my hands, and grab the night guard. I try to lay it on her bottom teeth without waking her up.

Easier said than done when she bites me.

She jerks up, rubbing her eyes when I yelp at her like she’s a mouthing puppy nipping my hand.

“Dad? What are you doing?”

“I could hear you grinding your teeth a mile away. Wear your night guard, baby girl, or we’re going to have to go the dental implant route before you graduate high school.”

“Fiiine. I will, now go away.”

I hand her the night guard I couldn’t get in her mouth. She pops it in and falls back on the pillow like her head weighs a hundred pounds. She’s snoring before I even make it out of the room, gently shutting her door behind me.

All she said to me was go away. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment because it doesn’t make me love her any less.

In fact, I expect her crap. I relish it.

What the hell will I do when this kid moves away for the real world?

Maybe I agreed to let her go off with Eliza too soon.

I don’t know much about my mad scientist other than the fact that she frustrates me to the bone.

What would Aster do? Assuming she was in the right state of mind to do anything…

My late wife was creative, artsy, always leaping from one project to the next. First it was her own gallery, then a cosmetics’ line the next month.

You could never pin her down when she was all over the place, her mind going wild with half-finished projects she’d quickly tire of and abandon before the groundwork was done.

Aster probably would’ve encouraged Destiny to explore her options.

She wouldn’t have thought twice about letting her hang out in a lab with a new hire who makes a daily habit of pissing me off. Hell, by the end of her life, she was desperate to pass the kidlet off to a nanny whenever I wasn’t around.

How could this be worse?

Only, my parenting may be far from perfect, but I’m sure as hell not outsourcing it again.

If I’m being honest, my concerns about Destiny spending time with Badger Lady in research and development have nothing to do with my daughter. It’s more the strange, almost violent reaction to Badger Lady.

It’s the way my eyes wander over Eliza’s ample body. She’s not a scrawny girl—definitely on the thick side—with curves for miles. Completely unlike any woman I’ve ever had in bed before.

And unlike anyone who’s ever worked for me, she makes my cock hard enough to engrave my name in steel.

Fuck.

I don’t want her more entangled in my life, striking up a friendship with my daughter.

Time to nip this in the bud.

I pull out my phone, open the email app, and start typing.

Miss Angelo,

Please inform me if Destiny becomes negligent in any of her duties during her time in R & D. She’ll be off to college in three short years, and it’s time for her to learn some work ethic.

I also want to make sure she’s not getting in the way of any real work on your end.

As you know, this scorched drink line is crucial to Wired Cup’s new vision. I won’t have my beloved teenager’s antics disrupting our mutual success.

Sincerely,

Cole Lancaster Jr.

Chief Executive Officer, Wired Cup Noble Inc.

A minute later, I’m still staring at the screen, frowning and second-guessing myself.

What the hell? I never have doubts over a simple email.

What has she done to me?

With a rough groan, I delete it unsent.

There’s no point.

Eliza’s too gentle, too easygoing to squeal on Destiny for playing around.

That fucked up part of me I want to ignore wishes I could see Miss Angelo outside the lab, away from work.

Would she bring the same smart mouth with her over drinks?

Would she go stiff and warm and delectable like she did when I cornered her in the lab and we touched?

Does that mouth of hers have other talents? How many undeserving punks got to find out if she sucks as hard as she insults?

Goddamn.

“Knock it off,” I mutter to myself, lightly tapping one side of my face.

My fingers come back slick. I’m sweating bullets.

Utterly ridiculous.

There’s a reason—no, a thousand reasons—why I’ve never brought any woman to my bed since Aster and I’m not about to start now. Not for any shortage of options.

I could have my choice of willing lays. Yet I’d rather live like a monk, married to my own right hand over any risk of complicating my life again.

Let alone poor Destiny’s.

Maybe I’m still haunted, too.

Our marriage was seriously flawed, but Aster was my daughter’s mother. My wife, my woman, for richer or poorer, in sickness with little health.

She deserves a certain respect.

Sure, Dess might joke about me getting remarried now that she’s older, but it opens up a big enough can of worms to hijack a bait shop.

Fifteen is a hard fucking age.

Losing her mother when she was barely old enough to understand it was brutal enough.

No matter how much she grows up, I swore a long time ago I wouldn’t make it worse for her.

Never mind the glaring fact that I’d never get mixed up with an employee.

Strict HR policies against it aside, I don’t have to think hard about the example I’d be setting to know it’s a piss poor choice.

I won’t have my baby girl thinking it’s acceptable to date your boss.

Hell, if her boss ever tried, I’d hunt the dickhead down and tear him limb from limb.

Though if somehow Destiny didn’t know about a reckless fling with a badger of a woman who might be too much honey—

Cole, fuck you. You’re playing with fire.

I sigh, knowing that venomous little voice in my head is right.

I’ve always been smart enough to choose cold, hard reality over any wet dream.

And I’ll damn sure choose sanity before I give Eliza Angelo a whisper of a chance to burn me.