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

“Jesus, Pippa. I’m so sorry,” Jenn says. “I didn’t expect you to meet the CEO—er, meet him again—on your first day. If I’d known—”

Oh, hell. I hadn’t even thought about that.

“The CEO was there?”

She blinks at me.

“I mean, I know you never got his last name in Hawaii, but you’ve figured it out, right?”

“Jenn, what are you talking about?”

“Brock Winthrope. Your Brock. He’s the chief.”

Instant goosebumps.

My brain doesn’t want to work.

“Hold on. Lanai Brock? Naked Brock? Grumpmuffin Brock?”

Jenn nods tightly. “All in the same big moody Brock package.”

I swallow forcefully so I don’t throw up.

“Holy shit. Holy—you’re not joking are you? You’re serious. He owns the entire company and I just walked right into him.”

I bury my face in my hands, digging my fingers into my eyes.

“He must think I’m a total moron,” I whisper.

But our dinner from that last night pops into my head.

He mentioned Seattle, didn’t he?

And he did it without explaining anything.

He could have told me the truth.

He chose not to.

“Don’t freak! You probably won’t even see him much,” she says with an awkward smile. “I mean, I only see him occasionally in big staff meetings, like once a quarter or so. Everyone’s blood pressure goes up when he walks into the room. He’s a busy man and pretty intense.”

Like that makes this all okay.

I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it.

“Pippa, you’re redder than a cucumber. Are you okay?” She lays a soft hand on my shoulder.

“Cucumbers aren’t red,” I say, peeking out behind my hands.

“Yep, and you just passed the test. Sorry, had to make sure you’re still in there.” She grins.

I nod, feeling a painful hook in my neck.

“I wonder why he lied to me, though. But now it makes sense why he was so panicked about the review. A flipping CEO with a shiny new property has a lot more at stake than a basic manager.”

“It also looks way worse for a CEO to show up naked and start showering—”

“Ugh, you’re right.” I almost fall over.

I grab her arm for support.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Really, if you need to duck out early, I don’t think anyone will notice,” she says.

I laugh until my stomach hurts.

Awkward laughing fits make confronting total madness a little easier.

My shoulders come up to my ears in an exaggerated shrug, my best effort to curl up and die.

“He didn’t care to see me again. I know that much. He knew we were both in Seattle and never asked for my number. He saw my social media accounts and never tried reaching out. I kind of hoped I’d see him again somehow. Now, I wish I hadn’t!”

“I understand.” Jenn throws me a sympathetic look.

I doubt she does.

When I met him in Lanai, after the initial shock, he seemed so decent.

So strong.

So smirky and a lot moody under the surface, but he had his heart in the right place.

Now, I wonder who I dated without actually dating that day.

What man did I kiss?

“Do you think he meant it when he didn’t want to see you again?” Jenn asks.

“What?”

“I saw the way he looked at you. There was a second of surprise, but then—let’s just say the way he stared could rival an eagle and a field mouse. When you looked back at him, he smiled. It was quick, but it was there. Ask anybody around here—Brock Winthrope never smiles. He’s grump-zilla personified. So if he wasn’t ticked when you bumped into each other…that’s good news. I bet he would’ve pulled you aside and had a few words before we ran off like hens on fire.”

“That’s why I ran! I didn’t have a clue how to say, ‘Hi, dude. Yep, I’m the girl you made out with for a nice review, and now I work for you. Isn’t that awesome?’ I can’t believe this. I knew he worked for Winthrope, obviously, but I never imagined he’d be the—” I stop as I’m saying it.

I should have known something more was up.

I booked the gig in Lanai because my best friend works at Winthrope headquarters and had a contact.

When Mr. Not Manager told me he spends his time in Seattle when he’s not traveling for work, I should have guessed he was going to Winthrope home base.

“I’m the biggest idiot who’s ever worked here, right? Be honest.” I laugh bitterly.

“Pippa, stop.” She grabs my shoulders and gives me a little shake.

I should have known better than to believe a stranger.

Especially a strange naked man in the running for world’s biggest footlong.

Will I ever learn?

And for the love of all that’s holy, will I stop thinking about his atrociously large—yeah.

“Look on the bright side. He’s a nicer tour guide than he is a boss,” Jenn says cheerfully.

I frown back.

Even my bones are frowning.

“Where’s the bright side?”

“He’s a huge, demanding, type A crazy workhorse—and I’m sure the A stands for asshat. I’ve never had to deal with him firsthand, thank God. But I’ve heard the stories. Other people had the audacity to make a mistake in front of him and it wasn’t pretty. Poor Robbie worked for two days without sleeping once to fix this screwup with some Facebooger ads.”

“So, what, he inherited this role? I know he didn’t start the company.”

“His grandparents did. You’ve probably seen Ross Winthrope in the news before? Kind of eccentric, very British, dresses like Willy Wonka on cannabis gummies… Brock came in and took the full reins just a couple years ago, not long after the hot new Chicago hotel opened.”

Wow. I’m at a loss for words.

I don’t even know what to do.

“I’ll give you a minute.” Jenn takes the hint and steps out to give me breathing space.

I stay holed up in the bathroom until I regain my composure.

Somehow, I mangle my way through the rest of the day even though I can’t focus on work at all.

When I get home, I find Maisy lying on the couch. Dad has an arm under her legs and another one under her arm, stooped over.

“What happened?” I ask.

“She fell asleep like always. Girl curls up like a kitten and passes out cold. I was just about to put her to bed.”

I gentle my voice as much as possible before I say, “Dad, you’re not supposed to be walking around without your cane. And Maisy’s a big girl now. She’s seventeen. You can’t lift her like she’s seven years old. You need—we need for you to take better care of yourself. Just wake her up.”

He gives me a deflated look and sighs as I collapse on the couch next to my sister. Maisy groans and rolls over.

Is he hurt or just annoyed?

I can’t tell.

“Aw, hell. She’s all tuckered out because she has to run after me. That’s not how it’s supposed to be, Pippa. I ought to be taking care of you girls instead of being this useless lump.”

“You’re never useless, Dad,” I say firmly. “And she’s just tired because she was on the phone with Kelly until one a.m. Probably chatting about some boy. Let me take care of it.” I pick her up and wait until she blinks and stands, then start guiding her toward her room.

Once I have Maisy settled down in bed, I come back and sit with Dad.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yeah, Maisy made pork chops. She left a plate in the microwave for you.”

“Thanks.” I stand. “Want anything else while I’m up?”

He glances at his nearly empty water jug. “I’m good.”

I grab it on my way to the kitchen anyway.

A few minutes later, I’m back with my plate of food and Dad’s freshly filled jug.

“Here you go.” I set it down beside him and dig into my food.

“So, how was your first day on the job?” he asks.

Crap.

Quick, think of the positives.

“Pretty decent. It’s fun working with Jenn—oh, and it has the best view in Seattle! They call it an observation deck, but it’s really this giant balcony that looks out over everything.”

“Not too shabby, honey.” He smiles at me, his green eyes twinkling. “Sure beats getting your nose pinched by a crab like I did my first day.”

I giggle. “But you were only fifteen!”

“And so damn wet behind the ears I didn’t know a salmon from a squid. Hell of a learning curve when I ran off from that little mountain town thinking I knew how to fish.” He smiles fondly, his mind somewhere else, probably back in Heart’s Edge, Montana, where he grew up a lifetime ago.

I let him yammer on about old times so there’s no reason to talk more about my day.

Of course, I don’t mention anything about the CEO from hell—or the fact that we accidentally kissed in Hawaii.

Dad doesn’t need another freaking heart attack.

“You worked like a mule on all your video stuff,” he says, finally shifting back. “Can’t believe you gave it up for nine-to-five.”

“…I guess that’s part of growing up, right? Also, FYI, I haven’t given up. Not totally,” I say, mostly to convince myself. “Smart people know when to cut their losses and shore things up again, don’t they?”

He smiles softly. “You’ve always been sharp as a tack, girl. Just hope you didn’t feel like you needed to step away from what you love for me. I always manage, and you know you’re welcome to stay home rent free for as long as you want.”

I have no idea what to say, but I know I need to say something before he drowns in his own guilt.

“It’s a cool opportunity. I’m still working in the travel industry—”

“But you can’t travel. Thanks to this guy.” He jabs a thumb at his chest.

“Someday, Dad. I might see if I can transfer to an on-site marketing team. Then I’ll be at some resort and I won’t have to hold my breath for freebies or pay through the nose.”

“Still not traveling,” he says, folding his arms. “You’ll just be stuck in the same pretty place an hour away from home. That’s not what you’re after, Piper.”

Why does he make this so hard?

I’m trying to form a response that doesn’t sound like fluff, but my face must give me away, because he says, “I just want to make sure you’re really okay with this. It isn’t fair, you holding yourself back because of your old man. Me and Maisy, we’ll manage.”

“Oh, no, Dad. It’s not like that at all. I love the content game, but there’s no security. Even if I do everything right, algorithms shift overnight and can slash your views in half. It’s hard to hold down a routine when you never know when or what’s coming next. I miss the actual travel part, but I like knowing I’ve got a steady check coming and paid time off.”

He nods. “Well, good. You know I couldn’t handle it if my shit pressured my oldest daughter into some phony desk job just to pay the bills. You only get one life. I want you to live yours, Piper, without worrying about me.”

I laugh. “Dad, I’m not going to just abandon you.”

He laughs too. “Sweetheart, kids grow up and move away. All part of life.”

“Not yet. You guys need me.”

I force a smile.

“No matter how much I travel, Seattle will always be home. I don’t have any big plans of going away, and actually, I was getting kinda tired of the long-distance trips. I’d rather keep it local for a while. Plenty to see in our own backyard.”

“Now you’re just yankin’ my chain.” His eyes narrow and he studies my face. “Since when are you tired of new places?”

I smile and shrug.

“Hawaii was gorgeous but the jet lag… Woof. I went through half a case of ginger ale just getting my stomach right again.”

Finally, he nods.

“Yeah, that can be rough. You always did have a sensitive belly.”

Sensitive isn’t even half of it as I exhale slowly, thanking the stars he believes me—or loves me enough to pretend he does.

Maisy is on the school bus by the time I leave the next morning.

Dad’s asleep in his armchair, probably where he crashed out after waking up for a two a.m. snack. I make sure his medicine, cane, phone, water, and life alert are beside him so he has no reason to move around more than he needs to.

When I log in to my computer at work, I have fourteen emails waiting.

Most of them are about new hire orientations, a few basic training videos in company etiquette, and people introducing themselves.

The one from Keenan Dutton gets my attention.

Apparently, he’s Brock Winthrope’s executive assistant and Mr. Winthrope would like to meet with me in forty-five minutes.

My heart nosedives through my stomach.

Awesome.

What the hell do we have to talk about?

Maybe he wasn’t impressed by the way I cut and ran after headbutting him?

Or he decided my Lanai content wasn’t ass-kissy enough.

Or he doesn’t think I’m the right fit for this job.

I swallow.

All the kind words in the world from Jenn can’t override the CE-flipping-O if he gives me the boot.

Forty minutes creep by at a death row pace.

My knees almost lock when I start the slow, painful walk toward the elevator leading to Winthrope’s floor.

I shouldn’t care so much.

I stood up to him before, didn’t I?

But that was before we kissed.

And I was the one with the power then, thanks to his naked intrusion.

Now…

I bite the inside of my cheek.

God, this sucks.

I don’t know much about Brock Winthrope except that he lied about being some lowly resort manager.

Remember how I kept saying it wasn’t his fault that some moron couldn’t buy decent software? Oh, but it is!

I cover my face, holding in a sickly laugh, trying and failing to regain composure.

The elevator announces my arrival on the top floor of this literal ivory tower with a ping! like a gunshot.

Everything is glass and gold and towers over the cityscape outside.

Left goes to the observation deck I wonder if I should throw myself off of—or right to the Tsar of all grumpiness and my inevitable doom.

Right it is.

My courage dissipates by the second, walking through the blue-tinted doors that look like they belong in a fancy airport lounge. Inside, it’s all glamor, black and gold modern accents and a sparkling chandelier that must be the world’s most tedious job to polish.

I imagine people standing on ladders with toothbrushes just to get it done.

“Miss Renee?” A warm voice startles me.

I look up and see a guy in black-framed glasses. He’s wearing skinny jeans with a black shirt and a spotless white blazer.

He offers me his hand, and I shake it.

“I’m Keenan Dutton, Executive Assistant. I wasn’t sure if you’d know where to go, so I planned to meet you at the elevator, but I got held up in a meeting.” His smile feels disarming, at least.

“Umm—are you coming with me?” I clear my throat. “To talk to Mr. Winthrope, I mean?”

“I believe he wants to see you alone, but you shouldn’t worry. I promise you his legendary bark is worse than his bite—but I think you already know that since you’ve met.”

I almost fall over.

Oh God, oh God, this Keenan guy knows about Lanai?

Did Winthrope tell him we—

But before I finish that thought, Keenan starts moving, urging me on to Brock’s office. Once we reach the door, he opens it for me.

Why do I get the feeling I’m being thrown in a lion pit?

I’m barely one step inside when Keenan shuts the door behind me.

Here we go.

Of course, he’s the center of his entire world.

His desk is a focal point, huge and sprawling enough to rival the Resolute desk in the Oval Office.

There, the corporate god-king rises from his leather power chair, backlit by another dramatic view of a rain-spattered Seattle and the Puget Sound behind him.

Piercing blue eyes meet mine for a breathless second—before his eyes drift lower.

I. Am. Dead.

Is he staring at my lips?

I wonder if he’s back in that star-strung Hawaiian night with me, remembering how I tasted while Jupiter glowed overhead.

His gaze snakes down my body, stopping on my chest, my hips, my legs.

I suddenly feel as naked as I did the first night we met, when I had to face him in a t-shirt and panties.

My cheeks heat furiously, but it’s not all desire or nerves.

I’m pissed.

He said he had no desire to see me again.

He didn’t even tell me the truth about who he actually was.

So, why pretend this is any sort of happy reunion now?

Anger gives me the shot of courage I need to speak.

“Well, are you just going to stare or tell me why I’m here?”

“Three reasons, Miss Renee. First, I needed to see you up close with my own eyes to prove it was really you—preferably without you disappearing like a skittish fawn. Second, your talent is being wasted in an entry-level copywriting role. That changes now.”

“What?” I throw out. He’s just randomly changing my job without even asking me? “Okay, CEO or not, you can’t just reassign me on my second day here.”

He stiffens, leveling those soul-searing blue eyes on mine.

“Can’t I, Miss Renee?”

God.

I’m biting my lip so hard I taste something metallic.

I just can’t decide if I want to race over and slap him across the face or sink through the floor.

He laughs. “I’m the CEO and the buck stops here. If you’re questioning my decisions, you’re welcome to appeal to the shareholders directly—including my grandfather, still the majority shareholder.”

“Fine. You want to randomly pick me up and dump me somewhere else? That’s cool. I’m calling your grandpa.”

He snorts loudly. “You’re threatening to call my grandparents on me in the first sixty seconds we’ve been reunited?”

I cross my arms and nod.

He shakes his head. “I’ve never had a disgruntled employee threaten that before. Glad to see it wasn’t just the Lanai sunshine that makes you a wolverine. Here, I’ll sweeten the deal—”

“How? You haven’t even told me the terms yet…” I look at him incredulously.

“Simple. You help me with the organic reviewer slash influencer pool, including your honest assessment of what went wrong, and I’ll up your pay. How does three times your current salary sound? Effective immediately.”

Holy moolah.

The prick knows how to hit me where I live.

With that kind of salary, we’d have a new furnace, a cushion for Dad’s bills, and enough left over for takeout once in a while.

But that pesky little voice inside me tells him to go to hell just so he knows he can’t control my life. I’m not for sale for any amount.

…but we could really use that money.

And he isn’t asking for anything impossible. Yet.

I don’t think I can turn him down just for spite.

What’s the cost of a deal with the devil again?

“Should I take your silence as a ‘yes?’” he demands.

“…I’ll think about it,” I whisper.

His eyebrows go up, and he scoffs. “What?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Decide by three o’clock.”

“Tomorrow,” I insist.

We share a long, cutting glance. The same eyes that devoured me with that kiss beam through me now, so intimidating I could scream.

“What’s number three?” I ask.

“What?”

“You said there was a third reason you brought me here. You only gave me two.”

“Right.” He looks away, but his glance drops down and scans my body. “I haven’t forgotten how we parted, and I’m sure you haven’t either. Frankly, there’s never been a comparable situation and I don’t know what the hell to do about it—”

“What do you mean ‘do about it?’”

“The urge to leap over this desk and shove my tongue in your mouth again—” He cocks his head. “And that’s putting it mildly. I want to do more, but rules matter. This company won’t have a fraternization scandal on top of everything else, no matter how much more reckless parts of my anatomy disagree. No more mishaps.”

Awesome.

He just has to remind me he’s the living embodiment of the eggplant emoji, doesn’t he?

I smirk at him, hating how my face heats.

“I guess I’ll have to do some thinking. I’ll let you know.” I spin around on one heel and march toward the door.

“Miss Renee, wait!” he barks after me.

I stop, curling my fingers around the handle. I know he won’t let me leave like this.

So I look at him over my shoulder.

“You act like it was my fault, Winthrope, but you were showering in my suite. And when we came back from the grand tour, you kissed me. So, drop the wounded act. I’m not some siren turning you into an impulsive animal. What happened is not my fault, and you know it.” I’m about to yank the door open for real this time when I add, “And another thing, you’re way too arrogant to kiss again. Now that I know who you really are, and that you lied to me…”

I don’t look back for a heavy second.

When I do, I see a crease forming in his forehead.

“Why the fuck would you say that? What does the truth matter?”

“You knew we were both in Seattle, but you made it crystal clear we’d never see each other again. If I hadn’t gotten this job, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. The fact that you need to call me in to declare there will be no sex scandal—”

“You’d rather I say nothing? Pretend I never made you moan your heart out?” he growls.

My toes curl up in my shoes, but I’m on a roll. Mr. High and Mighty won’t break me today.

“Look—I’m not sure what issues you’ve had in the past, but believe me, your little ‘rules’ won’t cost me any sleep. Maybe we’d be better off pretending.”

I don’t wait for his response.

I’m moving through the door and breathing a sigh of relief as it clicks shut behind me.

God.

What the hell was I thinking?

I can’t believe that’s the man I spent two months pining over. He’s nothing like the gruff gentleman I met in Hawaii.

The moody charmer who showed me around the island must have been a mirage.

That Brock was nothing like CEO Winthrope.

Nothing like this human storm cloud stuffed into a suit, ruling his company with fear and rumors and snap decisions like a lord bossing around his serfs.

Everything Jenn warned me about feels wrong.

Winthrope isn’t just an asshat. He’s a corporate tyrant.

When I get back to the elevator, I find Keenan standing there, waiting to go down too.

“Back so soon. How’d it go? Did he throw anything?” he asks in a low whisper.

I stare at him, shocked.

“Relax, it’s just a joke. I’m just—never mind.” He holds up his hands affably.

“Oh. Um. I’m not sure, honestly.” I shrug. “I’m also not sure you were right about his bite…”

He lifts a brow. “I’ve never met someone so upset about getting a big raise. Seriously, don’t let him scare you. Just keep your head down and think of the money.”

“I wish I could. There’s a little more to it than that, and I haven’t exactly agreed to anything yet.”

“You mean you might turn the bossman down? Wow, brave.” Once we’re on the elevator, he leans in and whispers, “He didn’t pressure you into anything? Back in Hawaii, I mean. He’s a huge cave bear and not that kind of man, but—”

“Nothing I didn’t want to happen at the time,” I confess. “I’m not getting forced into anything just because we’ve got history.”

“Even a pay raise? Lady, I’ll be strong-armed into a raise anytime.”

That wins him a laugh.

I don’t elaborate, though.

If this is going to work, Brock Winthrope needs to show me a shred of respect.

The elevator chimes as the doors slide open. Keenan steps out ahead of me with a parting nod, leaving me alone.

I just hope I can make it through the rest of the day without being haunted by midnight-blue eyes scissoring a Brock-sized hole in my heart.