Demanding Boss Read online

  Demanding Boss

  Clara Reese

  clarareese.com

  Contents

  1. Patricia

  2. Wanda

  3. Patricia

  4. Wanda

  5. Patricia

  6. Wanda

  7. Patricia

  8. Wanda

  9. Patricia

  10. Wanda

  11. Patricia

  12. Wanda

  13. Patricia

  14. Wanda

  15. Patricia

  16. Wanda

  17. Patricia

  18. Wanda

  19. Patricia

  20. Wanda

  21. Patricia

  22. Wanda

  23. Patricia

  24. Wanda

  25. Patricia

  26. Wanda

  27. Patricia

  28. Wanda

  29. Patricia

  30. Wanda

  31. Patricia

  32. Wanda

  33. Patricia

  34. Wanda

  35. Patricia

  Also by Clara Reese

  1

  Patricia

  I’m cool. I’m totally and completely cool. I can do this. That’s what I keep telling myself, at least.

  Walking up the stairs, I feel like I’ve taken way too many deep breaths. This situation feels like being caught in an ever-tightening net. I have no choice. This is how the cards played out. I have to do it.

  The final implosion of my relationship with Jessica should not have come as a surprise. Still, it did. I always thought, no matter how hard it was, we would always come through. I just had this ridiculous faith in us and the best possible version of her.

  That’s why it hurts so much. She’s never going to change.

  And now I have to see her, every single day.

  Waiting for the elevator, I pull a shroud of icy calm around myself. I’m not going to show her an inch of exposed skin. I’ve spent years dealing with her shit. I can walk through fire every day and it’s not going to touch my ice. Not a single bit.

  I’d like to indulge in the idea that ignoring her and refusing to be taken in by her tricks would hurt her somehow, but that’s a hell of a trap. I need to just focus on me. If she reacts, hopefully I’ll be able to enjoy it. At the very most, after what I’ve been through, I should get the chance to see the little cow squirm.

  I know it’s childish, but it does give me a little twist of satisfaction. I hang on to that as I ride the elevator up and stride into my floor.

  I take another one of those really deep breaths. They aren’t doing shit for me except making me feel like I’m on Everest, or maybe the space station. This might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, mixing my business and personal life. I’ll never do it again. I’ve learned my lesson.

  The thing is, those long nights Jessica and I poured over those book plans were some of the best nights of my life. We came up with the series together and, man, that thing was alive. It practically crackled beneath our fingertips. Stories of love and hot sex from the lesbian perspective.

  A gamble, considering the small market, but one we believed we could sell. This one was going to break the trend and bring all our pride-filled girls out of the woodwork to enjoy a sexy comedy read that honors our lifestyle choice.

  Jessica’s head brushing near mine as I looked over her shoulder at the glowing words. Late dinners. Sex on the desk halfway through a sex scene. Now that I’m back in the office, I can’t shake these memories. They are all around me.

  I’ll work with her. It’s going to hurt like hell. But we’ll get the series finished and go our separate ways. I have no choice.

  The second I get in, Jack calls me from his desk. He’s a test reader and editor that also does admin work. His voice has that urgent tone, so I hurry over to him.

  “Morning, Jack.”

  “Morning, boss.” He gives me a big smile. “These manuscripts have come in at the wrong format. What would you like me to do?”

  I stare at him incredulously. “Well, send them back or reformat them. Do you really need my input on this?”

  “Well. Just look at this one. The writer promised that she was going to edit it and add words, now the fucking thing looks like a dog’s breakfast! I mean—”

  “Jack.” My voice is soft but effectively cuts him off. “What the fuck?”

  “I don’t know.” He looks up at me and his eyes are kind of frantic. “I’m just a bit lost today.”

  “Well, I have to—”

  “Patricia!”

  “Amelia!” I spin around and stride to her desk. “What’s wrong?” When my PA screams like that, something’s going down.

  “Look!” she shrieks. I hurry to the screen, expecting to see book stats dropping all over Amazon as my company slowly goes out of business.

  Instead it’s a basket full of ragdoll kittens wearing petal hats so they look like flowers.

  “Amelia…”

  “Oh, just trying to start your day off nicely.” She grins, too wide. “You have that new girl, Wanda, starting today. You’re cool.”

  “I’m cool.” I give her a look, wondering what the hell is going on today.

  I go straight into my office and boot up. I manage to sit down with my coffee before Amelia calls me again. Thinking it’s a crisis the size of the continent itself, I bolt out on to the main floor.

  I peer over Amelia’s shoulder urgently and see…a cat in a haircut so it looks like a dragon.

  “Amelia…”

  “No, wait, I swear. I have this video you’ll like.”

  I stand up, sighing. I look over at Jack who waves.

  “Don’t forget, Wanda starts today!” He calls brightly.

  Why have my competent staff members turned into slack asses? Something is going on here.

  When I get back to my computer, they both call out for me again but I’m not buying it. Not this time. There’s something they don’t want me to see. I’ve got to get in and fast.

  I always do my maintenance first, so I get my business email open. The first one is an email from legal. No need to get excited, they send me emails several times a day.

  I read through quickly. Then I read it again, several times. My heart is sinking and leaping out of my chest at the same time.

  Jessica has left Weston Publishing and gone to Raven’s Press.

  I can’t believe this.

  I call the legal department immediately. Jessica had a contract with us, and those novels were going into production. If I can’t make her stay, surely I can fine or sue her for breach of contract. Legal tells me “no way”. I made the contract too loose because we were together, and I never thought she would leave me…or the company.

  I slam the phone down. “Fuck!”

  Those books were the start of a new line that was going to be the focus of the whole company’s future. I put my career on the line for this!

  Lesbian romance has always been a dodgy line to push. Even if you live thick in a gay community and every single one of them loves to read, it’s difficult to sell to the mainstream audience. It’s such a gamble, really.

  Jessica’s books, her ideas, they’re amazing. With me to guide her through the more emotional parts of the book while she wrote the hell out of the sex scenes, it was shaping up to be hot enough the general public would love it.

  That’s how much I believed in this project. I honestly believed we could push it mainstream. Sharp enough, sassy enough, real enough that people who didn’t share the sexual orientation would buy the books and enjoy them.

  I sit quietly at my desk, staring at the screen. I literally have no idea what to do next. I want to talk to Jessica but that’s just habit, a knee jerk reaction. It would just be another fight and
she would get too much triumph from my call. She would just laugh at me.

  That reaction is exactly why she’s done what she’s done, obviously.

  She wants me to go out of my mind. She knows what this line means to me. I’ve put so much into it. She knows the entire company is resting on it.

  She’s yanked it out from under me like the proverbial rug. I drum my fingers on the desk, still thinking that all I want to do is talk to Jessie. It’s pathetic but the need to communicate with her drives me towards the phone.

  I don’t pick it up. I just hold it.

  My mind spins through every single project my company is running. Nothing can take the place of this. Everything was prepared for its release.

  “Fuck!” I yell pretty loud, but nobody looks up. I see Amelia glance my way, face tight and eyes concerned.

  I know in a few minutes I’m going to have to get up. I’m going to have to pretend to know what the fuck I’m doing so I can try to save my company.

  But right now, I’ll just sit quietly and have a personal little freak out. I’m entitled to at least one, every now and then.

  2

  Wanda

  I wake up early, enjoying the feeling of the warm sunlight across my skin. I lie with my eyes closed for a few more minutes until the cheerful cheep of my alarm clock encourages me out of bed and into the shower.

  I think about the day ahead. It’s my first day at a new job, and I have to make a good impression. I’m excited but, as I stand under the warm water, I feel nervous butterflies flapping around in my stomach.

  I was so sure I wouldn’t get this job, so when I received a phone call a couple of days ago it was a bolt out of the blue. The interview was last week and I had stammered and stumbled my way through it, all the while blushing furiously. It was way shorter than any other interview I’d done, and I had left utterly dejected.

  But that was last week, and now I stand in front of the mirror, teasing my hair into my signature curls, and applying eyeliner as carefully as possible with my slightly shaky hands. I was so surprised to get offered a job, and even more surprised that the role is for an assistant PA, working directly under the famous Patricia Monroe.

  Patricia is a publishing giant at Weston Publishing Inc. Not only is she super successful but she’s a huge advocate of lesbian romance fiction, my favorite genre. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was four years old and I’ve been writing lesbian love stories since I was a teenager, so to actually be working with such a huge supporter of the genre is incredible.

  I dust off my smartest jacket and try to straighten my shirt. I ironed it only this morning and it’s already creasing awfully. I debate finding a different one but after checking my watch I decide there’s no time.

  I check that I have my keys and cell phone and I dash out the door. I’m leaving way too early but I’m paranoid I’ll be late, and that’s a bad impression I do not want to make.

  Although I’m delighted that I’ve finally found a job, and one with decent pay at that, I desperately wish that I was entering the company as a writer and not a PA. I need the money to pay for my grandpa’s Alzheimer’s meds and nursing home fees, not to mention my own debts, but fetching coffee and photocopying diary entries for some publishing mogul isn’t exactly my dream. Even if she is a hugely successful, and attractive, publishing mogul.

  “My Wanda, you should always remember that one foot in the door is half the battle won.” My grandpa’s words echo in my mind as I stand in front of the huge office block. He said it so much to me growing up, and I’ve never forgotten his favorite motivational saying.

  It’s almost ironic that the publishing house that was so keen to hire me turned down my manuscript last year. They didn’t even send any feedback on it, so they must have hated it completely.

  Still, this job is the next best thing to writing for them, and perhaps I can persuade Patricia to look back to see why it was rejected. I might even be able to pick up some tips from working here, and maybe in the future my applications will stand more of a chance.

  But first I have to get inside and actually start the job.

  I show my offer letter to the security guard at the ground floor reception, and he waves me toward the elevator with his hand. Stepping in, I hit the button for the 30th floor, taking a few deep breaths to ground myself as the elevator whizzes upwards.

  A moment later, I step out onto a soft plush carpet and look around. The office is the most luxurious I have ever been in, with ergonomic chairs, huge sweeping bonsai and willow plants, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering what must be the most beautiful views in the entire city.

  The people rushing past me are far more glamorous and chic that I thought they’d be at a publishing firm. Everyone is dressed in elegant, immaculate suits that look like they cost more than a month’s rent. I smooth down my skirt self-consciously, and wish I had put on a different shirt after all.

  No one seems to pay any attention to me, so after a few minutes of hovering by the elevator. I try asking people if they know where I’m meant to go. One friendly-looking guy with slightly shaggy hair and a purple waistcoat gestures in the direction of the gorgeous receptionist he had just been talking to, slumped low behind a sleek black desk.

  I head over and stand awkwardly, waiting for the man to look up. He’s sketching something on a piece of paper, his long, intricately painted fingernails wrapped expertly around the pencil. I shuffle closer and angle my head, and see he’s drawing fashion models with outrageously shaped dresses and spiky headbands.

  “Oh wow, that’s incredible.” He looks up when he hears my voice, though his bored expression doesn’t falter. “I wish I could draw like that.”

  “Thanks,” he drawls. “Can I help? Are you lost?”

  “Oh no, I don’t think so? It’s my first day. I’m the assistant PA for Patricia Monroe?”

  He surveys me up and down. There’s no malice or snobbish overtones in his look but I still shift self-consciously. He picks up his phone and murmurs to the person on the line.

  A couple of minutes later a beautiful redhead appears beside him. She too is immaculate, and her dress fits her so well, it could have been tailored for her alone. It seems rather flamboyant and, for a moment, I wonder if the receptionist designed or even made it for her.

  “Come, Amelia, take care of this poor little lost lamb.” His tone is still one of deepest boredom, and Amelia swats his arm.

  “You could at least pretend to take an interest in visitors, Donald,” she retorts, flicking a few strands of stray hair over her shoulder. “You’re a receptionist. It’s your job to make people feel welcome.”

  “Mmmmm.” I have to admit, I’m impressed by just how much feeling he manages to get into a single sound. Amelia rolls her eyes and they smile at each other before she turns to me, introduces herself and gestures for me to follow her. Donald smiles and waves encouragingly at me as we walk away.

  “I’m Amelia, this is Jack,” she says, leading me through to three desks outside a large glass office and gesturing to a man sitting behind a computer. He looks up and smiles in greeting, heading over to shake my hand.

  I look around. The office is chic and prettily decorated with a small corner designated as a kitchen, boasting a coffee maker and small fridge. The door to the glass office ahead bears a gold name tag, reading “Patricia Monroe”.

  “This place looks great,” I comment, and Jack and Amelia both nod.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty nice, isn’t it? Patricia gave us free reign so we decorated it ourselves. Jack painted that mural over there. He proved himself to be quite the dark horse.”

  Amelia gestures to a stunning mural taking up the whole wall opposite the window. It’s a forest scene but the trees and leaves are made up of books and pages, and the forest floor is covered with beautiful women reading brightly colored novels. I squint at it, and realise the books are all ones that have been published by Patricia.

  “That’s amazing!” I turn to Jack, my
eyes wide.

  He blushes and looks down at the ground. “Thanks,” he mumbles. “Glad you like it. It took me weeks.”

  “Only because you didn’t trust me to help,” Amelia chimes in teasingly. Jack looks up and grins at her.

  “Trust me, if I’d let Amelia help, it would have taken me far longer than a few weeks.” He winks at me as Amelia laughs and aims a crumpled-up paper ball at him.

  I laugh too, but stop abruptly when the door to the inner office bangs open. A beautiful blonde woman leans out, her eyes flashing in anger.

  “For the love of god, I need you lot to please keep the noise down,” she hisses. “How am I meant to get shit done if I can’t even hear myself think?”

  She slams the door shut and there’s silence for a few moments. What on earth have I walked into?

  “That’s Patricia,” Jack says quietly. “Don’t take anything she says right now to heart. She’s…she’s not feeling her usual self.”

  “We’re worried about her,” Amelia adds as she picks up the paper ball and throws it away. “She’s been so cold and angry ever since the breakup. She never used to be like this.”

  I’m about to ask “what breakup?” when Jack claps me on the shoulder supportively. “Don’t worry,” he says, more cheerfully. “Just keep your head down and take everything one day at a time. You have us, and it’ll all get better soon.”

  I can only hope he’s right.

  3