Dear Wicked Boss

4. The Revenge Dress.

My mouth fell open in astonishment. Evans was strong—he went to the gym at least three times a week and loved to go running every morning before work—but I didn’t know he could pack such a punch. He had knocked out a huge guy!

Once the guy was lying on the ground, his two friends rushed over to help him. The crowd started to disperse as the show was over, so I took the chance to approach my boss, who had a cut on his lower lip that was bleeding. He had also taken a solid hit there.

"Son of a b***h," he muttered to himself, still angry.

"Are you crazy?" I asked, taking advantage of the fact that he was drunk. I’d never be able to say that if he were sober, not unless I wanted a termination letter on my desk. "Come on, we have to get you home," I said, noticing that he was still too drunk to stand properly. A little more and he’d fall flat on his face.

"Home? No, Angela, we need to go inside and keep drinking!" he exclaimed, completely unfazed.

"Are you joking? Your lower lip is bleeding!"

It seemed like he noticed it at that moment because he frowned and brought his hand to his lip. He winced in pain when he touched the wound, which was still bleeding. Sure, he had knocked out the guy, but he had also taken a pretty good hit to the face. However, Evans Garret could easily bring in the best plastic surgeon in the world if he wanted; the guy on the floor couldn’t.

"Son of a b***h," he muttered again, still upset.

I rolled my eyes and led him to his car. I recognized it right away in the parking lot because, among all the cars, it was the only luxurious one. The rest were old junk heaps. After all, he hadn’t come to the best place to drink, he had chosen a rundown bar. When we got there, I opened the passenger door because I wasn’t about to let him drive in that state.

He sat down and rested his head against the seat. He looked drunk and a bit ridiculous, but he still managed to look good. Damn it. I tossed his jacket into the back seat and got behind the wheel. I had never been to his house, but I had memorized the address. Evans didn’t say anything as I drove. I wanted to get out of there quickly before someone called the police because, honestly, I had no desire to go to the station for my idiotic boss.

Why had he gotten so drunk? I couldn’t understand it. Evans wasn’t a vulgar man. In the short time I had worked for him, I had never seen him drink too much. He always drank in moderation, and only wine or champagne, when there was a celebration. It seemed like he was carrying something heavy enough to drive him to a seedy bar, drink, and look for a fight because this was definitely not like him.

When we arrived at his house a few minutes later, it was an ordeal getting him out of the car. The apartment was dark and lonely. The first thing I noticed was how spacious it was. The kitchen was integrated with the enormous living room, though it wasn’t due to a lack of space. The couches, the huge television, the giant lamps—everything screamed "new." Either the apartment had just been furnished, or my boss spent no time at home.

I led him inside the house. It was my first time there, so I had to resist the urge to gape at all the luxury. It was incredible how people like Evans Garret got used to living with so much wealth. I could never live in a place like this without feeling out of place. It wasn’t me. I grew up in a simple three-bedroom house—just enough for my sister, my parents, and me. Of course, my boss had grown up surrounded by luxury, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, so it wasn’t surprising that he walked around his house with indifference.

He headed to the bar in the corner of the room and grabbed a bottle of wine, but I immediately stepped forward and snatched it from him.

"You’ve had enough to drink, don’t you think?" I asked, moving the bottle away.

He gave me a confused look as if he hadn’t expected me to be there with him.

"What are you doing in my house, Miss Rivera?" he asked, looking at me with confusion. "Who gave you permission to come in?"

I sighed. God, he was worse than a child.

"I brought you here," I replied. "In case you don’t remember, you got into a fight with a man at the bar."

He raised his eyebrows, impressed.

"Did I win?"

I scoffed. "Oh yes, but you got punched," I said, placing the bottle back on the bar. "We need to clean that up."

I made him sit on the couch while I went to find a first-aid kit. It took me about ten minutes searching the bathroom, but all I could find was some alcohol and cotton swabs. I took them and went back to the living room.

We reached the kitchen, which was only separated from the living room by a granite island.

I made him sit on one of the kitchen stools, his legs spread apart, so I stepped between them.

The closeness made me a little nervous as I felt my boss’s intense and slightly glazed gaze on me. God, he smelled divine, even despite being drunk. His eyes inspected me as I began to clean his wound. My hands were trembling, but I tried to focus on doing it well and quickly, just so I could put some distance between us.

"Have you ever made love to a drunk man?" he asked.

My hand froze, and I looked at him wide-eyed, wondering if he was joking or not. From the intensity of his gaze, something told me he wasn’t.

"N-no," I stammered, applying more alcohol, hoping he would stop talking.

He gave me a cold smile before leaning closer. His lips were so close to mine that I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

"Do I make you nervous, Angela?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I wanted to say no. I wanted to press my lips to his. I really wanted to kiss him. No, I didn’t want to—I needed to. His eyes were telling me he wanted the same, but then the thought of my boyfriend came to mind. I loved Dustin. I had to respect him.

I pulled away, leaving the alcohol on the kitchen counter.

"Good night, Mr. Garret," I said, before turning and almost running toward the elevator.

I needed to put some distance between me and my dear boss.

***

The next day, the alarm rang loudly, making me want to scream. God, I felt so tired. I hadn’t been able to sleep well after returning from my boss’s house, only for the alarm to go off three hours later. I had thought I’d end up having a romantic evening with my boyfriend, but instead, I had spent the night dragging Garret to his apartment.

God, he had been flirting with me. Drunk or not, the memory of his face close to mine was enough to make me wet. How could I be so turned on by a man I practically hated? He treated me like crap and was incredibly rude. Just last night, he had taken advantage of the situation to tell me I lacked character.

Well, fine! If he wants character, he’s going to get it!

I got up with determination. Garret wasn’t going to ruin another day for me. I went to my closet and took out my black dress, the one my father had given me before he passed away. I had only worn it once for my graduation, but it was quite beautiful. It hugged my body well, showing off my curves, which, being of Latin descent, were substantial. It was above the knee, with a low-cut back, but still modest enough to be appropriate.

High beige heels, and my outfit was perfect.

When I stepped into the living room, my sister-in-law and niece were already there, and they were stunned when they saw me.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, smirking. "Are you trying to seduce your boss or what?"

My cheeks turned red instantly.

"Of course not!" I exclaimed, grabbing one of the toasts she had made. "I have a boyfriend, remember? And besides, I hate him."

"Your boyfriend is an i***t," she said, and we both immediately turned to see my niece, but she was too focused on the TV to pay us any attention. "And s*x has nothing to do with whether you hate him or not."

I shook my head—she was impossible. She liked to act like a liberal and outgoing woman, but the truth was that after my brother died, she had shut herself off. She no longer went out with friends, had no social life, and hadn’t dated anyone else. I usually told her that she needed to meet people, to open up again—my brother wouldn’t be angry with her for falling in love again—but she refused. The love she had for him was priceless, just like he had for her. The kind of love that only ends with death because, in life, they would never have separated.

The only person she spent time with was Dereck, but he was as messed up as she was. Both were like two tragic souls mourning the one they had loved the most in their lives—my brother. Someday, they would find happiness, and I was praying for that.

"What?" she asked. "Why are you looking at me like that? I *know* you have fantasies about your boss!"

"Keep your voice down!" I begged, embarrassed. "I never should’ve told you about that."

She laughed.

"Don’t be such a baby. Besides, if he looks like he does in the magazines and on TV, oh God, I can understand you. He’s sexy as hell!"

I nodded. Garret eventually appeared on TV, giving interviews, allowing reporters to take his picture—sometimes with women, sometimes alone. No woman ever stayed long enough in his life to be considered his girlfriend. Last night only proved to me that he was lonelier than I had thought. Who knows why a man with so much money and power would spend his nights alone, without company? But some people are strange.

"Yes, when you see him, you think he’s the sexiest thing in the world. Then he opens his mouth, and all the charm disappears," I said, taking a sip of juice. I was already running late again. "He’s a rude pig."

"Oh, he can’t be that bad," my sister-in-law responded, shrugging. "Besides, at least you can enjoy his looks. My boss is fat, has bad breath, and is bald."

We both laughed—her expression was priceless. My sister-in-law worked as a receptionist at a hotel. She hadn’t been able to finish her studies because of my niece and then my brother’s death. We helped her with everything we could, but it was hard being a single mom. Plus, my brother’s death had left us with quite a bit of debt. She was just starting to save enough to return to college.

"By the way, what did he want yesterday?"

I shrugged. "Nothing, just some plans to take somewhere. Nothing important," I lied. I wasn’t sure why I was covering for him, but part of me told me that last night wasn’t just about getting drunk. There was a deeper reason behind it. Garret never behaved that way, so the reasons had to be serious. I didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone about it, even though he had asked me to keep it a secret, and he didn’t deserve that considering he was an i***t. I didn’t like sharing other people’s personal business, especially his.

My sister-in-law believed me, so I grabbed my bag and headed out, giving my niece a kiss on the cheek before leaving. As soon as I set foot in the office, Candace rushed over to me, her face tense, and something told me the news wasn’t good.

"If you have armor, please put it on," she said with a terrified expression.

"What’s going on?" I asked, already sensing a crisis approaching.

"Mr. Edwards just canceled the project. It seems he has no intention of moving forward with it."

I stopped dead in my tracks, going pale. Of all the things that could go wrong, this was the worst. Garret had been working on that project, sweating bullets trying to get everything done. That project was what would push us to become the best architecture firm in the city.

"s**t," I said, immediately covering my mouth. Candace ignored it, too worried.

"Mr. Garret is furious. I really think he’s going to kill someone today."

God, I just hoped it wouldn’t be me.

Without answering, I pressed the button for the top floor, praying internally that he wouldn’t notice I was ten minutes late. As soon as the elevator doors opened, seeing my coworkers broke my heart. They looked worried, their faces pale and their expressions defeated. This didn’t just ruin my boss—it affected all of us who worked at the company. Every one of them, including me, had contributed something to the project to keep my boss happy.

And now everything was going to hell?

God, I was angry but also a little worried. Serena was there, yelling something at Susan, one of the girls in charge of digital marketing. I walked quickly past her, not wanting to be seen and have her start throwing venom at me too. I wasn’t going to be like Susan—I wouldn’t stay silent. The only person I allowed to talk to me like garbage was my boss, and that was only because he put a decent amount of money in my bank account every month.

The door to my boss’s office was open when I arrived, and I could hear him yelling at someone.

"Where the hell is Angela?" he shouted at whoever had the misfortune of being in front of him.

I cringed. God, he was going to kill me. Taking a deep breath, I decided to go in before he started throwing things.

When I entered, I found Jerry, one of the accountants, hunched over in front of my boss. As soon as he saw me, a look of relief washed over his face. He was quite happy that I was now the one who would have to endure the shouting.

As soon as my boss saw me, his eyes sparkled. Papers were scattered on the floor, pens, a lamp, and other items. Of course, he had thrown them in a fit of rage. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and I was sure as hell it wouldn’t be the last. Garret often failed to control his temper, and today’s news had clearly unhinged him.

Still, he looked impressive. I was surprised that even after getting drunk and fighting another man last night, he looked impeccable. A tailored suit, two-day stubble, perfectly styled hair—the only difference was his slightly swollen lower lip. Perfect for me to lean in and—

"Miss Rivera, how nice of you to surprise us with your presence," he said, sarcasm dripping from his lips. "It seems perfect that you arrive whenever you please."

"I’m sorry, Mr. Garret," I apologized, but then I stopped. Who the hell did he think he was to talk to me like that? "However, if you don’t respect my working hours, I have no reason to respect them either."

Jerry’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he heard my response. My boss glared at me. He was about to lose control, and I didn’t want to be responsible for that.

"Jerry, get out," he ordered. He didn’t have to say it twice. Jerry was already running out of the office, leaving me alone with the monster. Coward.

"Tell me one thing, Angelina," he said, and my name on his lips, that sexy growl, made me wet immediately. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

"I don’t know what you mean."

"You come to work dressed however you please. Do you think this is a nightclub?"

My mouth dropped open, the pain stabbing me in the chest. The dress my father had given me wasn’t vulgar, but my boss was just looking for a way to make me feel bad. I understood then that he was angry and wanted to make someone pay, and that person was me.

"I’m going to bring you your coffee," I said, turning to leave, but he stopped me.

"Angela, come back here right now!" he shouted, and I jumped to my feet.

God, what was wrong with him? He was out of his mind. If he hadn’t been kind before, now he was being downright an unhappy jerk.

"I’m going to ask you not to yell at me."

"And I’m going to ask you to do your job properly and arrive on time."

"I was late because I had to save your a*s in the middle of the night," I said, glaring at him. "Next time, don’t keep me in your favorite contacts. Get yourself a friend and don’t call me."

He opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again. What did he expect? That I would stay silent again?

"Go and bring me Mr. Edwars’ report," he ordered, ignoring my complaint. "And don’t take all the damn day!"

I left the office, leaving him speechless. Who did he think he was? He might be my boss, but he was going too far by talking to me like that. I looked at my outfit and wanted to cry. I had thought it would be sexy to come dressed like this, a way to shut him up and show him I wasn’t boring. Instead, he had called me vulgar. But it was my fault. I let his comments get to me, and now I was doubly humiliated.

I went to the bathroom. I needed to freshen up a bit before going back because Mr. Garret was probably ready to kill me by now. God, I wanted to kill him as much as I wanted to have him. I took the opportunity to send a message to Dustin. I hadn’t done so last night, and I wanted to know how he was.

Me: Rough day, my boss is the biggest jerk in all of New York. How’s yours?

I waited a few seconds until his reply came.

Dustin: Busy day, sorry about your boss.

I smiled, about to reply, when another message came from him.

Dustin: We’ll talk later, I have work now.

I sighed in resignation. Lately, that was all we talked about—a couple of unimportant sentences. Then, I heard a sob from one of the stalls, as if someone was crying. God knows that crying in this company was common.

Inside was Susan, Mr. Evans’ secretary, sitting on the toilet while crying her eyes out as if her life had just been ruined.

"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned. Maybe her boyfriend had left her or something, that always upset the girls.

"Mr. Garret just fired me."

Oh s**t.

"Why? You’ve been working here longer than I have, and you’re good."

"He caught me smoking in the printing room," she said, sobbing.

"Oh, Susan," I murmured, feeling sorry for her. "You know you can’t smoke here."

Mr. Garret hated smokers, and it was an unspoken rule—no one in the company could smoke, especially not in front of him. In our contract, which human resources made all of us sign, there was a clause that clearly stated no smoking inside the premises and that breaking this rule warranted immediate dismissal. Adding to that, it was one of his worst days, so Susan couldn’t have saved herself, even if she tried.

"I know, but I’ve been so stressed lately. With Mr. Jiménez’s early resignation, I had to take on his responsibilities, and smoking a cigarette helped me relax."

That son of a b***h.

I spent some time consoling Susan, telling her I would talk to Mr. Garret so he could give her such good references that no one would hesitate to hire her elsewhere. Because there was definitely no way to avoid her dismissal once my boss made a decision, it was final. In any case, considering how he had been behaving lately, it was a relief for her to leave. She was doing what we all secretly wanted. Yes, the pay was good, but it was also very stressful.

I knew it was only a matter of time before he fired me too—before he found some excuse, some violation of one of his silly clauses. Then, no matter how good my work was, it wouldn’t matter, and I was fine with that. I just needed a little more experience to be able to apply for another job, and once I had it, I’d leave this place as fast as I could and get far away from his miserable, arrogant a*s.

I returned to his office and brought the report on Mr. Edwars that he had asked for. This time, he looked much calmer. He had already sent someone from cleaning to tidy up his office, and everything was in order again. However, when I handed him the papers, the way his eyes roamed over my body almost made me stumble.

Just before I left, he called me.

"Miss Rivera, don’t wear that dress again. The boring clothes are best."

I frowned, preparing for another one of his humiliating remarks. But what he said next left me speechless.

"Why?" I asked.

He looked at me, and then the fire in his eyes almost made me gasp.

"So I won’t want to f**k you."