Page 36 of Loathing My Boss
My joy falters. Why are we still talking about the letter? I just put that stupid thing from my mind. “I already said. Love letters are cowardly enough without hiding your identity. If it were from a real ‘secret admirer,’ nothing would change. I’d ignore it. I’m not interested in a guy who can’t talk to me himself in person.”
Viktor’s brow furrows. “So you’re not interested at all in a shy guy?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a Mario enemy with a high chance of fleeing a battle. So, um, no. I can’t say that I am.” Men are supposed to protect and care for their women. Heaven knows I need a guy willing to protect me from all the horror that stalks me day in and day out.
Gentle, Viktor presses, “What would get your attention?”
I take a firm step back, eyeing myboss, who has never made me feel unsafe before, not even while we’ve shared a bed these past few days. He stays on his side; I stay on mine. Internally, I giggle, knowing he’s got a cartoon sloth dog bed for a pillow, and I drift peacefully off, content. “I’m not certain discussing my preferred type of love confession is business appropriate, sir.”
His eye, it twitches, but he pinches the bridge of his nose and nods. “My…apologies.”
I tiptoe myself back to my side of the bed and scoop up my neglected clothing. “No worries.”
Many worries, actually.
All of them.
An infinite number of worries.
What has gotten into this man?
Sleep deprivation?
Hm.
Being sleepy is miserable.
Excellent. Misery for him, then. Smiling again, I say, “I think I’ll head off earlier this morning, pick up breakfast at Honeycomb, and start my tasks. Text me if you need anything while I’m near home. And make sure you meet your word counts while I’m gone. Lest I be very, very disappointed. And forced to email your editor. Again.”
He tenses. “Please stop emailing Desmond every time I’m short on my word count goals.”
“He loves our chats.”
“That’s no excuse.”
It is, though. It really is. “Don’t force my hand.”
Defeated, he mumbles, “I’ll…do my best to make you proud.”
As he should. With that, I see myself into the hall, dwelling on naught but reuniting with my darling fish.
Chapter 13
?
For the sake of the babe, I hope my trust issues aren’t genetic.
Crisis
Potato floats, tail occasionally flicking as he meanders about his tank, slipping past leaves and algae. Joyous, I refrain from pressing my nose against the glass while I watch him, eyes a-sparkle. “Hello, baby,” I whisper. “Did you miss me?”
“This is…something,” Crimson murmurs, braced against my dresser, looking like a model angel. Because she is one. Since Viktor was acting weird, I forgot to tell her I’d be by this morning to check on my fish myself, so we have collided.
Hehehe. What a shame.
“You’re so pretty,” I babble. “Yes, you are. Yes, you are. A very pretty boy.”
“I have only seen this level of baby talk commitment with dogs…and vowed never to mirror it with General.”
