Page 3 of The Boss

“Just show up looking devastatingly handsome, as usual.”

I chuckled, a low, rich sound that filled the room. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Don’t let me down. Oh, and don’t work too late,” she added, her voice softening slightly.

“Can’t make any promises,” I replied, though I hoped the warmth in my tone made it clear I appreciated the sentiment.

Chantelle laughed. “You’re impossible. See you tonight, Steele.”

“See you tonight, soon-to-be Mrs Steele,” I echoed, and the line went dead.

For a moment, I let the silence settle. Chantelle had a way of cutting through my defenses, and I liked a woman who wasn’t intimidated either by my physical or social stature. Hell, she came from money, while I had to build my wealth from zero. Too bad she couldn’t match my sex drive, but then again, I’d never met anyone who could. Aside from that little issue, we were a good fit—the best one I was ever likely to find. And if that wasn’t marriage material, then I didn’t know what was.

The knock at the door snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Come in,” I said, already dreading another interruption, when the door cracked open.

A young man I hadn’t seen before stepped in, clutching a file like a lifeline. He was tall, blond, broad-shouldered, and clearly nervous. His dress shirt strained across his chest, the fabric of his pants clinging to his legs as he walked in, his steps stiff with effort. “Hi, um, Mr. Steele? I’m Chris Landry, the new developer.Alicia asked me to bring this to you.” He held up the file, as if to prove he hadn’t just wandered in by mistake.

I gestured for him to set it on my desk, watching as he approached. There was something earnest about him, a kind of awkward energy that almost made me smile. “Football player?” I asked, noting the way his frame practically screamed ‘former athlete.’

He seemed lost for a moment, but then he caught my drift and smiled. “Wrestler.”

“Ah. I was a linebacker, back in the day.” It felt like a lifetime ago. “These days I only have time for the gym, but I take it just as seriously,” I added, instinctively flexing my pecs under my shirt. My workout regimen was brutal, but it helped me keep my body in top shape over the years and I was proud of it.

“It shows,” he mumbled, and then seemed to immediately regret it, his face turning pink.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from smiling. Picking up the file, I flipped through it. “So how’s your first day going?”

He hesitated, as if debating whether to give the polite answer or the real one. “It’s… good. Busy, but good,” he said finally, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

“Busy’s good,” I replied. “Keeps you out of trouble.”

That earned me a small, tentative smile. He seemed like the type who wanted to impress, though he hadn’t yet figured out how to do it without tripping over himself. It was almost endearing. Almost.

I glanced back down at the report, already marking a couple of errors. “And Alicia didn’t warn you that delivering things to me comes with a risk of critique?”

“She… might have mentioned something about high standards,” he admitted, shifting on his feet.

“Good. I like her honesty,” I said, setting the file aside. “Where are you from, Chris?”

“Er, I was born in Portland, Maine. But I studied in Pennsylvania. I just graduated from Gettysburg College this spring,” he said quickly, as if he’d rehearsed the answer. The moment would’ve passed uneventfully, but then, in his eagerness—or maybe nerves—he tried to shift the file closer to me. It slipped from his grip, scattering papers across the floor. Without thinking, he turned his back to me and crouched to retrieve them—and that’s when it happened.

A sharp, unmistakablerrriiiptore through the air and his bare ass flashed before my eyes. My eyebrows shot up.

Chris froze, half-crouched, his profile turning a deep, mortified red. When he felt the air hit his exposed butt, he straightened and swirled to face me, one of his hands clutching the scattered pages in front of him like a shield, the other one instinctively reaching behind to…assessthe damage.

I couldn’t help it—I laughed, loud and rough, the sound echoing through the office. “Well,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “that’s one way to leave an impression.”

“I—I’m so sorry,” he stammered, looking like he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “This is… I don’t even…”

“Relax, Chris,” I said, waving a hand to stop whatever apology he was about to blurt out. “Shit happens. And going commando to work is a ballsy move—I respect that. Though I have to say, I wasn’t expecting to get mooned right in the middle of my office.”

“I—I’m not commando,” he said, his voice small, hesitant. “I’m wearing my lucky jockstrap.”

“Oh?” I grinned. “It’s still funny.”

That earned a nervous chuckle from him, though he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.

---