Page 97 of Grumpy Boss of the Year

“I didn’t come to New York with any intentions of marrying you, Elisabetta,” I say, shaking my head. “Let me make that perfectly clear.”

“Oh, so what? You just decided that you wanted to marry me?”

“I decided that…” I pause as the taxi driver pulls over.

“We’re here, sir.” He looks over at Elisabetta. “Madam, can I help you with your bag?”

“Thank you. That would be great,” I say, stepping out of the car. I leave the door open for Elisabetta to get out, but she just gives me a dismissive look and opens the car door on her side.

I sigh as I head toward the front.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gallagher,” the doorman says as he opens it with a wide smile. “Good to see you again.”

“Good to see you, Jerome,” I say, nodding. I pause because I don’t even know what to call her now.

“I’m Elisabetta Franco,” she says, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too! Girl, you are a nice cup of sweet tea on a hot day.”

She looks over at me and then at him. “I think that’s a compliment,” Elisabetta says.

“Of course, it is. You’re beautiful,” he says in his deep Trini accent. “Very nice to make your acquaintance, madam.”

“Thank you. Nice to meet you, as well.”

“Is this your lady, Liam? I didn’t…”

“I’m his assistant,” she says, clearing her voice. “That’s it. That’s all I’ll ever be.”

I can tell by the cold tone in her voice that it’s going to be a long week. We walk into the hotel and up to the front desk.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gallagher. Good to see you again.”

“Hi, Lucille. Very nice to see you. Hi, Delores,” I say, calling out to the other front desk agent.

“Hi, Liam. Oops, Mr. Gallagher,” she says, giggling.

“You staying with us for long?”

“No, I’ll just be here for the night, and then we’re flying out. This is Elisabetta, my…”

“Assistant,” she says. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Nice to meet you, too. Must be very nice working for Mr. Gallagher. If I could work for him, I would,” Delores says.

I can tell from the look on Elisabetta’s face that she’s trying not to laugh or snort in disgust.

“Well, I hate to say this, Mr. Gallagher, but we only have one room prepared for you, and we’re all booked out.”

I look over at Elisabetta, and she shakes her head.

“There’s no way in hell,” she says, staring at me. “I am not sharing a room with you. It’s not right and…”

“I can tell you that it is a suite, madam, and there is a couch in the living room area, so Mr. Gallagher”—she gives me a look and smiles—“can sleep on the couch, and you can sleep in the bed.

“I guess that will have to do,” Elisabetta says, nodding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, madam, though I have to say, if I was Mr. Gallagher’s assistant and I was staying in a hotel room with him, I might want to stay in the same bed, too.” She giggles.

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