Page 11 of #Bossholes

Wyatt

Nah, she’ll probably quit long before that.

SEVEN

Kinsley

I’ve only beenin my office for fifteen minutes, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. I’ve organized my pens—starting with Suck A Dick Sunday and ending with Shit Show Saturday—watered my cactus, stashed my Kindle in my desk, and now I’m staring out into the empty hallway.

Surely, the other secretaries didn’t quit because they had nothing to do.

Although, it could have been the distinct lack of color and personality in this place—not only this office but the entire top floor. The only thing missing is the padded walls.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that I have more than a small desk in the middle of a crowded floor, but jeez. I’m going to need something to look at if I’m going to be here for any length of time. And I will. With my brother’s surgery to save up for, there’s no way I can pass up the salary.

Would be nice to have something to do, though. This morning is dragging some serious ass.

I’m half tempted to snoop through the three offices behind me and figure out exactly who I’m working for, but the doorsare closed and with what I’m guessing is one-way glass, I can’t casually walk by, hoping to catch a glimpse of the beasts within.

At least if I’m sitting in here bored out of my mind, I’m not in their crosshairs.

So, I check my email, read a few chapters in the billionaire romance I’ve been dying to start, and as I’m about to check my email again, realize my legs are asleep. Perfect. With a groan, I shift around in my new, old-as-fuck chair, noting the lack of lumbar support, and—oh, pins and needles. Dang it. My feet are tingling, and it feels like the lower half of my body is on fire.

I spin in my chair, ready to stand, when I spot a suited man with dark hair and a coffee cup obscuring most of his face walking by my office. The mug is plain white, no images, no cute sayings, and without a doubt filled with generic black coffee.

Boring.

What’s not boring? The very expensive looking navy blue suit clinging to this man’s broad shoulders.

If my spidey senses are correct, that’s one of the other senior partners. Hopefully one who doesn’t know I referred to him as an emotional vampire.

He lowers the mug, our eyes meet and—fuck me. He can suck the soul from my body any day of the week. Jesus Christ. What are they putting in the water up here? He’s just as good looking as Mr. Wallace, and I can’t help but wonder if the other Mr. Ellis is equally as gorgeous. He’s either this guy's brother or father, and I can’t wait to find out.

Actually no, I just got dumped. I don’t need to find out. I’m emotionally unavailable. Off the market. The door to my lady garden is closed.

But damn.

It doesn’t hurt to look, right?

Because this particular Ellis, either Wyatt or Brantley according to our website, has a chiseled jaw covered in a fiveo’clock shadow—my favorite—and glowering emerald eyes that are…piercing right through me.

Oh shit.

Fuck.

He’s looking right at me and if that frown on his face is anything to go by, he’s not happy to see me. I’m tempted to ask who pissed in his cereal but manage to bite my tongue. I’m sure Mr. Bossy Boss isn’t a fan of sass.

I smooth a hand down the front of my blouse and extend it, plastering a gigantic smile on my face as I head to the door. Fake it ’til you make it. “Hi there. I’m Kinsley Rhodes.” His coffee cup continues to lower inch by inch, his frown deepening, and when he makes no move to meet me, I lower my hand. “And you are?”

His lip twitches ever so slightly, but he otherwise ignores my question. Taking another slow sip of his coffee, his eyes never leave mine. “I need everything you can find on Bennett Holden on my desk in the next twenty minutes.”

Oh, yeah. This one has the personality of a porcupine. He’s definitely one of the other two senior partners.

“Bennett Holden, the Olympic champion?”

“The very same.” His voice is stern, his entire demeanor rigid. “My desk. Twenty minutes.”

The smile drops from my face, and I swallow. Hard. “And your desk is…?”

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