Bad Boss: An Office Romance

"Kelsey, don't forget Mr. Craft takes his coffee black."

I offered a pleasant nod toward the intern who's been here for only six weeks. She threw a wink and tossed her pin straight blonde hair my way, then swayed her nearly six-foot perfect frame toward the conference room.

My smile quickly flipped to a frown, holding in my eye roll to the best of my ability. I had been in this reception chair for almost two years, way longer than I'd planned. Knowing how my thick-head of a boss takes his coffee was a given.

Another few interns my age pranced after her, their clothing precise and professional to fit their well-kept bodies. My brand new shift dress didn't quite have the same effect when walking past any warm blooded males like theirs did.

Maybe I was stuck behind the reception desk because my confidence wasn't like theirs, or because Mr. Craft had a particular eye for his interns.

Who all happened to be tall, thin, and beautiful.

I was lucky to be chosen for the program at the most successful marketing firm in Cleveland. My test scores proved my worth, along with my killer final project. I'd pitched an idea on how to market a running shoe at an affordable cost to multiple stereotypes. Let's just say I did such a good job that employees had a hefty bonus from the surplus of sales.

While everyone else in the room was impressed, my boss, Mr. Craft, stayed straight faced, the same tense jaw and scowl firmly in place as always. I'd only amused him enough to be hired in as his personal assistant, not as one of the marketing coordinators.

I wasn't offended, but according to my new coworkers, it was rare for Craft to hire any interns into the company after they'd served their time, and I was fortunate to have the job he gave me.

I assumed I'd be hired within a year. One of those, put up with the grunt work and it'll pay off gigs. Yet still I sit, getting glares from Mr. Craft every morning, being ridiculed because I didn't complete tasks to his satisfaction. He was arrogant; always pointing out that my ideas weren't substantial enough.

It wouldn't be so bad if he weren't so attractive. Talk about being tongue tied because of beauty. It's one thing to hate an asshole who's older than dirt and not attractive, but the man had a perfectly sculpted face, and deliciously blue eyes that would draw you into hypnosis. He couldn't be much over thirty; an unlikely age for a man in such a high career place. My panties were damp after he'd walk into the room, but then he would open his mouth, and all inappropriate thoughts and fantasies would vanish in an instant.

You're two minutes late, Ms. Neely. I suggest you set your alarm earlier next time. Your coffee making skills don't match your resume. If I wanted to be a diabetic, I'd have you get me a bacon cheeseburger for breakfast. Ms. Neely, the last I knew, paper clips were made in different sizes, I'd appreciate you attempting to learn which size is appropriate for what amount of papers.

He had an opinion for everything, and the way his mouth curled before he'd put in his two cents, made my thighs tremble. His lack of empathy and self-righteousness annoyed me as much as it turned me on.

So for now I sit, making copies, getting coffee, and keeping his schedule. My parents think I'm crazy and should use my brain and transfer to another company where I'd actually be of use.

If the end of the year strolled around and I was still getting dirty looks and snide comments, I'd be long gone. Having Craft Marketing on my resume would guarantee me a job anywhere I wanted, and I was willing to put up with his bullshit if it meant I'd be able to advance myself.

"Did you see the new batch?" Mindy, the secretary to Mr. Craft's partner asked with a sneer.

"Yes, they sure seem perky," I muttered, grabbing Mr. Craft's one and only black coffee mug and headed to the work room. I had ten minutes before he arrived, leaving me time to make a fresh pot that would be at the correct temperature to his pleasing.

"Perky is right. I don't understand how these chicks can afford boob jobs fresh out of college."

I laughed, opening the door to the lounge. "They all come from money, or they worked extra hard in college for them."

Mindy rose a brow. "You mean working the sidewalks?"

I shrugged my shoulders, pulling out Mr. Craft's personal coffee tin. He didn't like to share, and had fired a poor intern who'd mistakenly made some for herself. I wasn't lying when I said he was an asshole. "Never said that."

She fluffed her curly strawberry-blonde hair in the mirror next to a motivational poster. She was more gorgeous than the interns, only a few years older, but you would never had known unless you got a glimpse of her driver's license.

She turned and eyed me up and down. "That's a new dress, isn't it? You look awesome in blue, Kelsey. You should wear it more often."

"Thanks," I beamed and smoothed over the new Caribbean blue shift dress. I'd bought it on a clearance rack at a high end boutique a few blocks down. It helped the rich color of my eyes pop out with a thin line of eyeliner and a heavy swipe of mascara.

"You know, I think Mr. Craft only uses interns to sleep with them," She huffed.

Holding my hand over my chest, I defended myself. "I didn't sleep with him when I was an intern."

Her mouth broadened into a huge smile. "Me either, which is why we both have jobs."

My shoulders sagged in realization. She was spot on, and I should have been proud of myself, but instead, a heavy pit sank to the bottom of my stomach. Why wouldn't I qualify?

Mindy marched over to me, grabbing my shoulders. "No, no, no, don't go there in your head. I've seen that, 'you don't add up to people's standards,' worried face before. You're beautiful. Twenty times more appealing than any of those girls. He chose you because you're brilliant."

I forced a grin, then sidestepped from her to pour water into the coffee maker. "If I'm so brilliant then why am I still an assistant and not a coordinator?"

She waved her hand at me. "Because he doesn't want to lose a good thing. Your time to shine will come, whether it's for Craft or somewhere else. I know I won't wait around forever for Sneed to promote me. I'm not going to be keeping his schedule the rest of my life."

Timothy, from accounting, breezed into the lounge. "Are you plotting to take over the world?"

Mindy straightened her posture and gave him a huge smile. "Only for the day." She'd deny to the end of time that she didn't have a crush on the lanky, redheaded and pale skinned accountant. I knew the truth, though. She'd confessed one night when we'd gone out for drinks.

"Mindy is next in line for a promotion," I nodded toward Mindy.

Timothy smiled in her direction, adjusting his glasses in the process. "That's great. You deserve it." He proceeded to the cupboard, pulling out two pieces of bread, then a jar of jelly.

I always thought it was odd he made and ate his breakfast at work. Mindy watched him as he pulled out the toaster and popped the bread into the slits.

"Hey Kelsey, I'm sorry the accounts from last month didn't get to you until this morning. I finished them late last night. I know how Craft can be when his reports aren't in on time."

I waved my hand toward him. "Don't worry about it. I wouldn't have gotten to them until this afternoon anyway."

Timothy's shoulders relaxed, a smile of relief spreading across his lips.

"Yeah, Craft seems to be touchy about his account slips. Gary is more flexible with those things. Honestly, I don't even think he goes over them," Mindy shrugged.

"Gary has always been kind and understanding if I'm ever behind," Timothy added.

I nodded in agreement. "And he's nice to both of you. Craft is such a pompous asshole."

Timothy grimaced while Mindy snorted. "That's the truth. Remember when some moron left a box in the middle of the hallway and you tripped, sending papers flying all over the floor?"

"Did you really?" Timothy asked.

My cheeks heated with embarrassment. How could I forget? It was only my first week, and Mr. Craft was ten feet away from me, watching in glance view as I slow-mode in my head that unforgettable moment. It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't been wearing a skirt that day. Even if it would have been a tighter fitting dress, maybe it wouldn't have hiked over my hips to show my barely there underwear. Normally I knew better and would wear undies that covered my ass cheeks, but I was in desperate need of a laundromat and didn't have time, leaving me to wear a skimpy pair of white lace panties. You can imagine the mortification I felt when Craft's eyes left his phone to glance at my ass, then continued to walk by without debating to help me. I gave my new boss a free show.

"That was terrible. Thank God no one else saw."

She held in her giggle. "I would have helped you before I started laughing."

"At least you would have responded. Mr. Craft barely noticed me sprawled out on the floor, let alone offered to help."

"Hence, he's an asshole. He even glared at Gary when he didn't call him by his last name. I don't know how they became business partners."

I'd made that mistake before. Talk about if looks could kill. I was only complimenting him on his marketing strategy. Now, I leave my opinions to myself unless he asks for them. Which was rare, and hardly ever taken seriously.

She snickered before she spoke. "Although, if I were in a power house marketing position, I probably wouldn't like to be called Mackenzie either."

"Well, the one time I called him by his first name, I said Mack. Maybe he got so pissed off because I didn't use the full version."

"I think Mack is a pretty masculine name," Timothy offered. He wasn't one to gossip or talk negatively about anyone.

Mindy ignored Timothy and leaned into the marble countertop. "You'd think maybe he was so uptight because he doesn't get laid, but you and I both know that's not true."

Timothy's toast popped from the toaster. His face was as red as the strawberry jam he was dipping his knife into. "The ladies do tend to flock toward him."

I laughed under my breath. When I interned, he'd slept with the three other girls I'd been working with, dismissing them all with ease. He'd demand that they stay late and help him with a project. They all jumped and were eager to spread their legs. Fortunately, I never went up to the plate for that.

I swallowed, proud I'd never slept with him, yet, at the same time, offended by how I didn't meet up to his standards. The coffee was dripping into the cup now, nearly done filling. Good thing, considering I only had five more minutes before Mr. Grumpy Pants arrived.

A smirk play on my lips. "Maybe I should call him Mackenzie from now on, just to piss him off."

Mindy snickered. "Hard to piss someone off who is already mad all of the time."

A throat cleared from the doorway, startling us both. So much that when I jerked, my hand caught the edge of the coffee pot, burning the sensitive skin on the inside of my thumb.

I held my breath, shaking my hand as if that would help to rid it from stinging.

Mindy offered a sideways smile. "Good morning, Mr. Craft." He knew she hated him, and he knew his opinion of her wouldn't affect his partner's decision to keep her as a secretary.

Those cold, blue eyes passed from Mindy to me, then to Timothy, who was holding his knife with jam in midair, a firm jaw set in place as if it were stone.

He wore a light blue button-up and a gray tie, causing his baby blues to pop out even more than they already did. "Glad to see we are working hard," Mr. Craft grimaced.

Timothy quickly tossed his knife in the dishwasher and topped the cap to the jelly, almost dropping it three times in the process. Craft looked unimpressed with poor Timothy.

He grabbed his toast and bolted to the door. "I'll be on my way. See you at 2:30, Mr. Craft."

Craft didn't respond, only straightened his tie, removing his focus from Timothy to take long strides toward me. "I need the notes for the backpack campaign."

His bluntness wasn't new to me. "Already on your desk."

"And the Power Point presentation?"

I tried to refrain from scowling. "When do you need it by?"

He examined my face, his jaw tightening, then let out a heavy breath through his nostrils. It tickled my cheek, and if he didn't look so pissed off, I would have thought it felt nice.

"We'll go over it at noon."

"She has to eat, Craft," Mindy grumbled, not bothering to scurry away at his presence just as Timothy had.

Mr. Craft clenched his jaw. "I think you've had enough of a social hour this morning to make up for lunch. I'll see you at noon. With the power point presentation."

Grabbing his coffee from under the machine, he took a sip. His brows furrowed in disgust. "I knew I should have stopped to get my own," he muttered.

I narrowed my brows at him, but bit my tongue. Sometimes I wondered if he baited me on purpose, trying to get a rise out of me so he had an excuse to fire me. Finally, he turned on his heel and strutted out the door, not bothering to look Mindy's way.

"What an asshole," she huffed, stomping toward me. "Is your hand okay?"

I nodded, refraining from complaining about how big of a jerk he was.

"I'll text you in-between slides," I sighed, moseying out of the lounge and back to my desk.

Mr. Craft's door was closed when I got there, and I was thankful. I didn't need his negative energy seeping through the threshold and putting me in an even worse mood than he already had.

I'd spent the last three hours making a thirty page slideshow for the backpack campaign. I was proud of my work, but some of the ideas needed tweaking. Typically I kept my mouth shut unless he asked for my opinion, but today, I might not be able to hold back. He was so rude to me in front of Mindy earlier that I might bite his head off if he decided to be snotty.

I printed off the slide along with transferring a version onto my pink USB port. Craft always huffed when I pulled them out. Worried you'll lose that dying technology? You do know everything is saved in the google doc and can be opened in multiple places.

He was such a dick.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my new dress that made me feel sexy and confident then grabbed my iPad and made my way to his office door.

Normally I'd wait to be summoned by Mr. Sexy Asshole, but I wanted to get this meeting over with. I was already hungry and should have texted Mindy asking to grab lunch for me.

Raising my free hand, I flexed my fingers, then fisted them to knock assertively, but my hand betrayed me, turning into a limp noodle and barely making a sound.

His deep voice carried passed the door. "Come in."

Taking a long breath, I entered his office. The darkly painted room was modern, a coldness filling the space with its minimal design and lack of personality. Mr. Craft was a straightforward man, not wanting anyone to know about his personal life. If he even had one outside of being buried deep inside interns who would happily open their legs for him.

One of those leggy interns happened to be leaning over him and looking at his computer screen, her cleavage practically hanging out. If Craft turned his head, his face would be between the tall redhead's boobs. Was I so invested in my work that I didn't even notice her come into his office? Or that I didn't hear them screwing?

Craft didn't take his attention away from his screen. "Thanks, Leslie. You can head home for the day." His dismissal was curt, and the young intern attempted not to look crushed. She looked well put-together, but that still didn't mean anything. I'd seen many girls leave his office still in one piece, but sporting the glow one can only get from an orgasm.

Leslie waited for Mr. Craft to turn and acknowledge her leaving, but he never took his focus from his screen. She lifted her chin as she walked by me, her emerald green eyes sparkling as if she was in a higher place than I was. I gave her as pleasant of a smile as I could in passing.

Craft rolled in his chair to a stack of papers, thumbing through them while I stood like a moron in the threshold of his office.

"Are you ready to go over the presentation for tomorrow?" I finally asked, stepping into his room and directly across from his shiny black desk.

His jacket was off and draped over his chair. One hand was on his forehead while the other spun a pen in between his fingers. He was focused yet seemed distracted at the same time. The product that styled his hair perfectly was losing its mold. By the way his hand moved from his forehead and through his dark locks to the back of his neck was the culprit. That or Leslie grabbed a hold of it while he fucked her.

I wouldn't be surprised if he screwed her while I was creating that damn power point presentation.

"Yes, I am. Close the door and take a seat at my conference table." His response was assertive, and I obeyed. I needed to work on standing up for myself. Maybe that was why he kept me around, because I took his shit without putting up a fight.

He stretched from his seat at his desk, tossing his pen on a stack of papers in the corner. Grabbing his laptop, he brought it to the table, pulling out a chair for me to sit down. It was a gesture I wasn't used to in my everyday life. I hadn't had a boyfriend who was as cordial like Craft. He always opened the door, pulled out chairs, let women go first. He was obnoxiously chivalrous, yet his brutal honesty and bluntness ruined his manners.

I didn't walk toward him until his eyes found mine. Eye contact wasn't his thing, at least not with me. He rarely met my gaze. The fact I always made him look at me irritated him. I enjoyed getting under his skin when I could.

His jaw was tense while he waited for me to sit down.

Setting my iPad and USB port down on the table, I took a seat, my breath hitching when he pushed my chair under the table with me in it.

"We don't have all day," he grumbled in reference to my timid approach.

"I understand," I sighed, shoving my USB port into his laptop.

I could see his eye roll at side glance. "I asked you to save the PowerPoint in a google doc."

"I did, but I like to have a backup in case something goes wrong."

His lips went tight. "Technology doesn't fail us, it's the user who creates the issues."

Such a pompous asshole.

"I don't create issues, I simply prefer to be prepared in all possible scenarios."

His brows narrowed, but he didn't comment on my attitude. "Issues? What kind of issues would you expect for us to come across?"

"Oh, I don't know, the internet going down?" I couldn't contain my sarcasm.

"That's why I have personal hotspots, for the rare occasion the internet goes down."

I rose a brow at him. "What if the weather is bad? Everyone knows the internet goes flaky in a rainstorm. Especially with cell phones."

His lip twitched. "I've never had issues. Maybe you should change your cell phone provider."

"What if an alien invasion comes in and zaps out all of the technology?"

He rested his hand on his chin when he looked at me. "If that outrageous prediction happens, we wouldn't be able to access a computer at all."

My forehead wrinkled. I hated when he was right. "Why does it matter? As long as we're prepared it shouldn't be an issue."

"Well, then by all means, use your dying technology and pull up the presentation."

Containing my glare, I quickly inserted the port and pulled up the document.

He stayed silent while I worked, situating myself to take notes on my iPad and make changes where it was necessary.

When I was ready, I noticed he was watching me intently, his hard exterior that usually held a scowl wasn't there. Relaxed facial expressions made him all the more attractive.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the awkwardness of him staring at me made me uncomfortable. "Did you want to get started?"

Our interactions were eerily quiet at first, but soon picked up with each slide, having me add and take away information to his approval. He never gave compliments or asked for my opinion, I merely sat at the screen, adjusting the slides to his perfection.

After two hours of sitting in that room while he pondered if my slide creations were up to par, we were nearly done, and my stomach growled.

My body froze and I flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry," I mumbled, standing from my chair and smoothing over my skirt.

"Didn't know typing was so exerting," he deadpanned, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms over his head.

"I haven't eaten anything since this morning. Typically I eat at noon, but since you wanted to go over the slides, I skipped."

He didn't have a response, and I was too nervous to look over my shoulder to see his reaction. I shouldn't have snipped at him, but I was hungry, and normally became cranky and short on an empty stomach.

"Do you have low blood sugar or something?"

His sarcasm wasn't amusing. "What if I did?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'd assume you'd speak up and say you needed to eat something, or take an insulin shot."

It took all of me to hold my jaw in place from his insensitivity. The sparkle in his eye dared me to say something, but I kept my mouth shut.

Turning back to the laptop, I stretched my back, well aware of how long I'd been sitting in that damn chair. I'd need to go for a run after work today. That'd help loosen me up some, and it would help to release some steam from the added irritation Craft had caused.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward while standing and continued to the last slide. "What do you think about this one? It's your closer, so it's important to..." My breath hitched.

A gentle pressure caressed down my spine to my lower back. Did something fall on me? Did a large spider propel from the ceiling, cautiously creeping along my dress?

I peeked over my shoulder. Mr. Craft was no longer sitting but standing behind me, his focus away from the computer screen and on my lower back.