Page 26 of Grumpy Boss of the Year

“You’ll be sitting at that desk right outside the office,” I say as she licks her lips nervously.

“What?” I ask her as she frowns. I can tell she's not happy by my answer.

“I thought I would be in a room with other people, not just sitting outside your glass window for you to stare at me all day.”

“Why? Do you not want me to stare at you all day?”

“No, I mean, I know you’re a creeper and all, but I'd rather not have a creeper staring at me all day and night.”

“All day and night?” I chuckle. “So, are you saying you want to stay here all night, as well?”

“Not at all. I’m just saying that?—”

“You’re just saying what?”

“I’m just saying that I don't want to be around a creeper twenty-four seven.”

“Yet, you’re the one who volunteered for the job. So am I the creeper, or are you the creeper?”

“What? How does that even make sense?”

“You know, I mean, we both know that you want me.”

“No, I never said that I want you. I said that I do think you’re attractive, and if this was a different circumstance, I may or may not have taken you for a ride for one night, but I'm almost confident that I wouldn’t have given you more than one night because you look like the sort of man who looks prettier than he actually is.”

“What does that mean?” I stand up and head towards her. I kneel down and look up into her eyes. “What do you mean I look prettier than I actually am?”

“I think you’re the sort of man with a good body”—she looks me up and down—“but you’re probably so used to women fawning all over you and wanting to be with you that you don’t really please them.” She grabs my hand and pulls me up. "Stand up. You're making me nervous kneeling on the ground. I'm not hoping for an engagement from you, thank you very much."

“You don't think that I can please a woman?” I say as I grab her wrist. She blinks at me, and I press my lips against her soft skin and breathe her in.

“No, I don’t think you can,” she says, almost whispering. I chuckle again as my tongue lightly runs up her skin, and she gasps. I look over at her trembling lips, and I wink softly.

“I’ll have you know, Elisabetta Franco, that I am a marvelous lover. I give almost as good as I get.” I stroke the side of her face. "Something tells me you'd love a proposal, three minutes after I'm stroking your..." My voice trails off, and I watch as she swallows hard. I’m really enjoying this game of cat and mouse, but I know I have to be extremely careful.

“See?” she says. “That’s what I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you givealmostas good as you get. So you’re saying you prefer to get better.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I mean, if you would like to test the goods right here and now, we can, but that might be slightly awkward if I end up having to fire you by this afternoon.”

“Excuse me? Why would you have to fire me? If I don’t type the required number of words per minute? What’s the required number of words per minute?” she asks, shaking her head.

“One hundred.”

“Well, I already told you I could do over two hundred, so…”

“So, I don’t believe you,” I say, chuckling, “and I'm not going to be won over by a blow job either.”

“Excuse me? What does that mean?”

“It means that I feel like when you get your twenty words per minute, you’re going to offer to blow me so that I don’t fire you, but like I've already told you, a blow job is not going to allow you to keep this job.”

“I don’t even need this job,” she says. “In fact..”

“In fact, what?” I say. pulling her up out of the chair. “Did you take this job just because you want to be with me?”

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