Office rule #1: Don't Fall for your Boss. Oops

“Oh no…” I banged my head repeatedly on the steering wheel of my rickety Peugeot 504. It had been two weeks since its last breakdown, and I’d almost convinced myself it was finally fixed. Almost. My fingers brushed the silver locket at my collarbone. Its cool weight steadied me. “Today of all days,” I muttered. I couldn’t wait around for a tow truck. I had to get moving. I grabbed my handbag and phone, leaped out of the car, and dialed the towing company. I was already late because I’d had to go to Greg’s school for an impromptu parent-teacher conference. Now, thanks to my car, I was going to be even later. Feeling like absolute crap, I tried hailing a cab. After a few failed attempts, one finally stopped. I climbed into the back seat, gave the driver my directions, and braced myself for the ride to work. With how the day was going, I wasn’t even sure I’d still have a job by the end of it. It was my first day. First day, and I couldn’t even be punctual. When the cab pulled up to the massive Sullivan Corp building, I paid the driver and bolted from the car, my caffeine deprivation threatening to kick in. Because today, of all days, there was no coffee. My favorite morning fix, my lifeline, was nowhere in sight. I tried to convince myself that the day wasn’t over, that I’d have many more days in my life to have a mental breakdown, but not today. No caffeine meant I’d have to spend the day in a terrible mood until my needs were satisfied. I hadn’t had time to brew myself a proper, caffeine-packed cup before leaving the house, so I could only hope the office had something remotely drinkable. My heels clicked furiously against the polished floor as I hurried to the reception desk, breaking into a half-jog as I got closer. A brown-haired woman stared at me, clearly debating whether to call security. I forced a smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace. “Hello. I’m Sloane. Sloane Daniels. I’m a new hire. Just trying to find my way to where I’m meant to be,” I said, trying to sound calm. “Are you the new assistant?” she asked carefully, then added after a pause, “Or am I mistaken?” “Yeah, I am.” Her eyes widened, and she gave me a once-over that screamed judgment. “Oh,” she said, glancing at her watch, then back at me. That look made me seriously consider turning around, going home, and crying into a mug of coffee. I was terribly late. “I—I had—” I started, then stopped. I decided I wasn’t about to give my life story to the receptionist. She watched me for a second, then two, before speaking. “You’re supposed to be on floor nine, room C-7,” she said, glancing at a couple of folders on her desk. “I assume you don’t know where that is, so I’ll call Mr. Rivers. You are lucky he was heading that way before stopping at the stationery.” She picked up the phone and made the call. I stared, surprised and relieved. “Thank you,” I said with a sigh. She nodded. “He’ll be here in a few minutes. Just…” She paused, turning toward the entrance. “Good morning…” Her face broke into a wide, overly cheerful smile. Curious, I followed her gaze. I turned. A man strode into the lobby, flanked by some people vying for his attention. Everyone else in the lobby turned too, as if pulled by some invisible force toward the man walking in like he owned gravity itself. He moved with confident strides. I could barely see his face from where I stood, but I’d guess his expression would be as arrogant as his lack of acknowledgement toward everyone. I turned to the receptionist, about to suggest I get a head start on my journey before Mr. Rivers arrived. There was no need to be later than I already was. The receptionist stared after the man until he disappeared into the elevator. I felt a flicker of sympathy for her, and the others who’d wasted their breath trying to get his attention. From their reaction, it was clear he was a figure of authority around here. He couldn’t even deign them worthy of a reply. Maybe he thought himself above them. He was giving serious arrogant a-hole vibes, and if there was anything I hated more than a morning without coffee, it was an arrogant asshole. A voice behind me interrupted my thoughts. “Hello, ladies. I heard I’m needed.” I turned, blinking at a pair of warm brown eyes. Are all the people in this building naturally, ridiculously attractive? I hadn’t realized I’d said it aloud until he smirked. “Not really,” he said easily. “But you’re in luck. I’m Brendan Rivers, the most attractive man in the building.” He held out his hand, and I met it halfway. “I’m Sloane Daniels… no titles.” “I’d have to disagree,” he said with a smile. “You’re the new girl, aren’t you?” “I guess I am,” I replied, smiling back. “Well, Sloane, welcome to Sullivan Corp,” Brendan said, spreading his arms theatrically, like a host showing off his mansion. He wasn’t intimidating. That was the first thing I noticed about him. Warm brown eyes, tall frame. Like practically everyone in my life, he had a few inches on me, a smile that hinted at humor, and a posture that suggested he was used to being around people, not towering over them. Standing near him felt… easy. Someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned to find the receptionist’s judgmental expression waiting. Immediately, I remembered where I was supposed to be. “Oh—hey, Gwen. How’s your morning?” Brendan asked. “Fine,” she said, digging through some files. “She’s late.” “I noticed.” “You should probably be on your way.” She handed me some files. “I was told to give you these when you arrived.” She added a few more to the pile in my arms. I adjusted the stack, trying to balance the files with my phone and handbag. “Thanks.” Brendan nodded to Gwen, then turned to me. “Shall we?” I nodded and followed him toward the elevator, trying very hard not to drop anything. “Need some help?” Brendan asked, amused. “No, I’ve got it,” I said quickly. “If I can’t handle a simple pile of files, I shouldn’t have this job.” “You sure?” He raised a brow. “You don’t look like it.” “Yeah, well,” I muttered, tightening my grip. “Caffeine-deprived and running late. Not exactly my best look.” “Caffeine-deprived, huh?” Brendan teased. “Dangerous combination.” I gave him a smile that was all teeth. “Floor nine, room C-7,” Brendan said as we stepped into the elevator. “Let’s get you there before you topple the entire reception desk.” As the doors opened, two men stepped out. My eyes locked onto the cup of coffee in one man’s hand. Coffee. My mind whirled with want, and my fingers itched to grab at it. So I did. The man had lifted the cup to his lips, and before my better judgment could intervene, I grabbed it. “Sorry—and thank you! I really need this,” I said with an apologetic smile. Brendan chuckled beside me. The man stared after me in disbelief. I willed the elevator doors to close faster so he wouldn’t have a chance to get it back. I didn’t even bother to listen or reply to whatever he had said after my coffee-snatching stunt. I gulped down some of the coffee with a sigh. Mission accomplished. When we reached floor nine, I took another sip of my… his coffee. Brendan’s amused gaze lingered. “If I’m going to be punished for the mess I’ve made today,” I thought, “I might as well enjoy the coffee.” “Good idea.” We turned sharply down the hallway. My arms, already overloaded, failed me as I collided with a wall. No, chest. “Oh no—” Oh no, oh no… The coffee flew from the cup, splashing across a crisp white shirt and a suit that screamed expensive. My stomach dropped. “I—I’m so sorry! Oh my God, I—please, let me—” I flailed, trying to find something to handle the stain while desperately trying to keep hold of my folders. Papers scattered. My handbag slipped. Around us, my new coworkers gawked. Some with pity, others wide-eyed at the chaos. It hadn’t occurred to me to look up. When I finally did, a pair of eyes as dark as embers stared down at me. His gaze flicked, for a fraction of a second, not to my face but to the locket resting against my chest, then back to my eyes. I straightened slightly, despite the nerves twisting in my stomach. The arrogant asshole from earlier. There was no mistaking it. With a cold look and a frighteningly steady tone, he spoke without breaking eye contact. “Who is she?”