Page 9 of Big & Bossy

Option two sounded much better.

At the red light, I pulled up Harry’s number from my contacts on my Audi’s screen.

“What’s up?” He asked through the speakers. “Couldn’t wait til we got back to the office to chat?”

“I’m going home,” I stated blandly, switching across lanes to the far right. “Can you handle the rest of today’s work on your own?”

“Oh. Is this because of the meeting?”

“I don’t want to talk about the meeting, Harry.”

“Okay, then. Sure. I’ll handle it. But don’t dwell on him, okay? He’s an asshole,” he said. I could hear the clicking of his turn signal through the phone and it was grating on my ears. “I’ll handle as many interactions for you as you need.”

“Thanks, Harry,” I sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

————

Jackson’s shirt was on the floor before the door had even shut behind me. I wanted it as far away as fucking possible. The temptation to burn it itched at the back of my mind.

You can do this.

No, I can’t. This was a horrible idea, a horrific, terrible, awful idea. My eyes burned as if I’d spent the last two hours crying, which I probably would have if no one else had been around. I was thirty-one years old, for God's sake. Why did I still become so easily upset about a guy who broke my heart ten years ago? I should be stronger than this. Harder.

And why is he even in Boulder to begin with?

He’s not from here. If I remembered correctly, and I absolutely did, he’s from Chicago. Mr. Big-shot could’ve moved his business anywhere. Silicon Valley was the perfect place for tech millionaires and billionaires so why not there?

Why here?

Why me?

Ugh.

I slipped on the first pair of leggings I could find and changed my bralette to a sports bra, heading out of the house before I could think about anything else. I needed to run, I needed to clear my head.

I ran to the park first, my empty stomach already screaming at me to go back home and eat. I never ran when I was hungry, I knew better. But I hadn’t been able to bring myself to eat anything earlier, not with that dreaded meeting hanging over my head. Every attempt nearly made me vomit.

Each step on the pavement made me feel a little bit better, even if I knew it wouldn’t last. Every slap of my sneakers on the concrete chased away the bad, helping me to wade my way out of the fog, turning night to day in my mind. I knew I could do it, I would figure out a way through. I just had to keep running.

What Jackson and I had was good, great, even, before he fucked it all up. We could be friends again I suppose, if we both wanted to. No, we couldn’t. I swatted the idea away before it fully fledged. What I want is revenge.

Revenge. Now there was an idea.

Things began to become even more clear. If I was going to do this, if I was going to work with him for the foreseeable future and have to listen to him and heed his orders, I was going to make it as hard as possible for him in ways he couldn’t imagine.

He’d told me too many times what his weakness was when it came to women—short skirts and long hair. He went absolutely fucking mental when I’d show up to our dates with barely anything covering my ass, and my usual, unruly tresses sleek and silky. I could use that to my advantage. He hated to be teased. My thoughts were becoming diabolical.

My ankles and my knees began to hurt, and as the sweat began to pour down my back from the intense afternoon sun, I knew how I could fuck him over. He didn’t get to hurt me then show back up ten years later as if it was totally normal and try to destroy me all over again.

I would make every second a living hell for him.

I would show him who the real boss was.

Chapter 5

Jackson

What passed as a coding lab in the building was abhorrently sad. I knew for a fact that it had an effect on our employees—barely any natural light, low ceilings, drab fluorescent lighting—but I still expected better than the shit I was being given.

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