Page 5 of Boss's Red Glare

3

Maisie

I push open the front door to my tiny, turquoise-colored bungalow and practically collapse inside. My shoes are off in seconds, heels abandoned by the door, my toes sinking gratefully into the plush, slightly-worn carpet. Home sweet home.

“Long day?” Charlene, my roommate and best friend since the days of braces and teenage melodrama, peeks around the kitchen doorway. She wipes her hands on a tea towel, her brows lifted with sympathy.

“The longest,” I groan, dropping onto our overstuffed gray sofa like a sack of potatoes. “Connor Bradford is officially trying to kill me.”

Charlene grins, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Ah, yes. Your hot, tyrannical overlord. Rough life, Maisie.”

I roll my eyes so hard I nearly see stars. “Hot does not even begin to compensate for the mood swings of that man.”

Charlene laughs, plopping down beside me, tugging her legs beneath her. “Oh please. It compensates at least a little. Admit it—Connor Bradford is ridiculously good-looking. He makes grumpy seem appealing.”

I groan again, but a smile tugs at my lips. “Fine. He’s attractive. Painfully attractive.”

Charlene leans closer, excitement lighting her expression. “Tell me again. I love when you describe him—it’s like book boyfriend material.”

I laugh, covering my face with a pillow, but secretly thrilled to indulge in this guilty pleasure. “Dark hair that’s always just tousled enough, as if he runs his hands through it every thirty seconds to maintain maximum broodiness.”

“Check.” Charlene nods dramatically.

“Eyes so dark, you can practically feel yourself falling into them—and honestly, that’s a dangerous fall. It’s like staring into pure espresso.”

She sighs dreamily. “Also check.”

I shift, feeling a flush creep across my cheeks. “And don't get me started on the whole tall-dark-and-grumpy thing he has going on. It's unfair.”

Charlene giggles. “And those suits?”

“Tailored like he was born in them.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Honestly, the whole older, sophisticated, CEO thing shouldn’t work so well.”

Charlene shrugs nonchalantly. “Who cares about age gaps when a man looks like Connor Bradford?”

I throw the pillow at her playfully. “Stop encouraging my forbidden crush, Char. He’s my boss, remember?”

She shrugs again, unfazed. “Office romance is practically tradition.”

“Absolutely not,” I say firmly, though my pulse betrays me with an excited little jump. “I need this job, remember? It’s funding my cupcake shop dream.”

Charlene smiles warmly, her teasing fading to genuine support. “You’re right. Eyes on the cupcake prize.”

I sigh wistfully. I’ve dreamed about opening my own shop—Sugar Rush Cupcakes—for years. I have sketches of menus, frosting recipes perfected over countless late-night baking sessions, and a Pinterest board full of adorable décor ideas. But for now, I’m chained to a desk, dealing with Connor’s moods and trying not to stare too openly at the sharp angle of his jawline every time he scowls.

“Okay,” Charlene says brightly, snapping me from my cupcake-induced daydream. “You’ve had a rough day. Pizza?”

“Pizza,” I agree instantly, my stomach rumbling its approval.

Twenty minutes later,we’re sliding into a cozy booth at Starlight Pi, Starlight Bay’s cutest pizza joint. The smells of marinara and garlic fill the air, and my mouth waters. This is exactly what I need—cheesy therapy.

But as Charlene dives into a story about her day at the library, I glance up—and freeze mid-sip. My heart jumps straight into my throat, making me choke slightly on my Diet Coke.

Connor Bradford is sitting three tables away. Laughing. Actually laughing. Next to him is Darren, the company’s overly charming marketing director.

“Oh my god,” I hiss, ducking my head behind Charlene’s menu. “Don’t look now, but the grumpy tyrant himself is here.”

Charlene’s eyes widen dramatically. “Connor?”

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