Two Dirty Bosses Read online

  Louis sighed. “We’ll figure something out. In the meantime, what do you think is up with this Zachary kid?”

  “He’s a weasel. He won’t last long.”

  “He might if Jeremiah likes him,” Louis said.

  I waved him off, standing up, looking down at the drink for a moment before I grabbed it and swallowed it in one gulp.

  “Gonna go home?” Louis asked.

  I nodded. “You want to make the calls?”

  “Sure,” said Louis. “Unless you want to call Victoria—”

  “Louis…”

  “I’m just kidding,” he said. “I swear. Go home. Lighten up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I rolled my eyes at him, though secretly Louis’s habit of joking around too much was one of the things that put me in a better mood than it would if it were anybody else. There was something about Louis that had always been calming to everyone around him, and so I did feel better as I left the building, even when my mind inevitably returned to what I’d lost. I tried to push the thought away, focusing instead on trying to solve the problem of getting Jeremiah out of the business, but even that didn’t last long as I made my way back home, caught up again in the eight months of grief that had clouded my life since my wife died.

  3

  Louis

  I went back into my office after Xavier left, shutting the door behind me and going to my desk. I flopped onto my couch, kicking my shoes off and lying down on my back. I had no intention of going home anytime soon—I rarely went home. Most nights I slept at the office, working until I fell asleep at the desk or managed to crawl over to the couch. I had a feeling this was going to be one of those nights, although I didn’t have much work to do other than to call the interviewees and tell them they’d got the job. I’d already sent an email to the other two—the rejects, one of whom had been far more qualified to work here than the kid that Jeremiah had picked. Still, for now, we were forced to put up with Jeremiah’s whims if we wanted to maintain some sort of peace in our firm.

  I made the first two calls brief and to-the-point, hesitating before I pulled out Victoria’s folder and dialed her number. I took a deep breath and did so, reminding myself that it was just like any other phone call.

  “Hello?” came her soft voice on the other end. I heard noise in the background—music and talking, like she was at a bar.

  “Hello, Ms. Eaves? This is Louis Sylvester.”

  “Shit,” she said, and I heard her fumbling around for something. “Hold on.”

  I grinned, waiting, listening as she covered the mouthpiece with her hand to get to a quieter place.

  “Hello, Mr. Sylvester,” she said. “Um—hi.”

  “Hi,” I said. “I was just calling to give you some good news.”

  “Good news?” she asked, pausing on the other end of the line. “What do you mean?”

  “We want to see you in here tomorrow morning for your first day,” I said to her.

  “Really?” she asked and started to giggle.

  I had to laugh. “Are you surprised?”

  “Yes!” she said. “Oh my fucking god.”

  “Wow,” I said, chuckling.

  “Oh,” she said quickly, and I noticed then that her words were slightly slurred. She giggled again. “I’m so sorry. Oh, you’re my new boss.”

  “I am your new boss,” I said. “And you’re out drunk on a work night.”

  “Is that a punishable offense at your firm?”

  “Hmm,” was all I could say, my throat going dry. There were so many things I could say to that, especially after the way she’d looked at me earlier, with interest in her eyes. I’d been reluctant to agree to hiring her for that very reason—the last thing I needed was to have someone around here to distract me. I’d made it a point never to be with one of my employees or colleagues and so far had never been tempted. Still, I couldn’t deny she was a good match for the job, and I wasn’t the type of person who would turn a woman down just because of how she looked, whether she was attractive or not. She deserved the job, in my opinion, and so I’d taken Xavier’s side, though a part of me knew it might be trouble.

  “So you want to see me tomorrow morning?” she asked. “What time?”

  “As soon as you make it out of bed,” I said to her.

  She laughed. “I guess I’d better get in it pretty soon,” she said. “I should—I should go.”

  “Probably,” I said. “Congratulations, Ms. Eaves.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sylvester. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said in that silky voice, then hung up. I smiled to myself as I thought about her voice and how funny she was. Just looking at her I wouldn’t have expected her to have such a filthy mouth, but somehow the fact she did drove me a little wild. I shook my head, getting up from my couch and going over to the desk. I flipped through some paperwork, desperate to take my mind off the new employee. It was stupid, something I knew I had to talk to Xavier about, if only to get it out there.

  I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep at my desk until the phone rang. I glanced at the clock to see that it was after two, and when I picked up the phone, the voice on the other end was soft and sleepy.

  “Hello?” I asked after a moment of listening to her mumble.

  “I said can you come pick me up?”

  “Uh,” I said, glancing at the clock again. “Sure, I guess.”

  “I just—I can’t get hold of my ride,” Victoria said. “And I called you last time. I know we’re not talking, but—I’m stuck outside and I’m freezing.”

  “I can come get you,” I said to her. She was sounding increasingly upset, drunker than before. “Where are you?”

  “At the Lotus,” she said, then hung up the phone. I looked around the office, wondering what I should do. Obviously, she thought I was someone else, but it sounded like she wasn’t in the safest situation, drunk and alone in the cold. I got up, shaking my head awake as I slipped into my coat and grabbed my keys.

  I pulled up to the Lotus to see Victoria standing outside, leaning against the wall while a man pinned her in. Her eyes were wide as I got out of the car and widened even further when they fixed on me over the man’s shoulder.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, causing the man to turn my way. I gave him a stern look, gesturing for him to move backward.

  “Get away from her,” I said to him in a calm voice, making sure he knew that I was serious. “Go ahead. Go on.”

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “He’s my boss,” Victoria breathed, staring at me in wonder.

  The man shook his head, deciding better of whatever he was thinking, and walked away. I looked at Victoria, whose cheeks and nose were flushed pink from the cold. She was shivering, her jaw trembling as she looked at me.

  “What—how—what are you doing here?” she asked.

  “You called me and asked me to come pick you up,” I said, leading her toward the car. She stayed where she was.

  “I didn’t call you, I called—I called my brother.”

  I shook my head. “You called me by accident.”

  She put her hands over her mouth, her fingers pale, almost blue. She was looking at me in horror and embarrassment.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. I gestured for her to come to the car.

  “You’re freezing,” I said. “Get in. It’s warmed up.”

  She only hesitated for a second before starting forward, her foot slipping on the ice. I caught her as she collapsed to the ground, but not before she winced in pain as her ankle twisted beneath her.

  “Oh,” was all she said, her face going pale. I lifted her into my arms, carrying her carefully around the car and putting her into the passenger seat. When I got into the driver’s seat, she had her hands over her face, her body shaking. For a moment, I thought she was crying.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her softly, not quite sure what to say. I’d dealt with emotional drunk women before but I’d never been any good at it. She turned to me and I s
aw that she was laughing.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, shaking her head. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “No,” I said to her. “No, you’re not.”

  “You’re my boss,” she said, her body shaking from the cold and laughter. “Only I could fuck up this badly.”

  I laughed. “You haven’t fucked up as badly as you think.”

  She looked down at her ankle, wincing as she lifted her leg slightly to bring it into the light. It was obviously swollen through the tights she was wearing, her ankle blooming into the size of a baseball.

  “We should take you to a hospital,” I said.

  Her eyes widened. “No hospital,” she said quickly. “No, just take me home.”

  “But your ankle—”

  “I’ll put some ice on it. It’s nothing. I’ve done it before—I’m really clumsy,” she said, although I didn’t believe her, not with the elegance with which she walked through the office, the confidence she exuded.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Um,” she said. “On the east side.”

  I nodded, turning the car around to head east. We sat in silence for a moment.

  “Does it hurt?” I finally asked her.

  I saw her grimace out of the corner of my eye. “Yes,” she said.

  “And the alcohol doesn’t help?”

  She laughed. “The alcohol helps.”

  “At least you’re drunk, then,” I said, and when she looked over at me, I winked. She blushed when I did but a pretty smile came to her face, one that she couldn’t hold back. It was a few minutes later that we pulled up to her apartment building, a tiny little place on a corner in a neighborhood that I wouldn’t have guessed she lived in. It was run-down and poor, a dangerous part of town, and I was glad to be with her to help her inside when she was drunk and injured. I pulled up to the curb and she started to get out, but I reached across her to stop her.

  “I’m going to help you,” I said to her, looking into her eyes. “I’m the boss. Don’t tell me no.”

  “I’m off the clock right now,” she pointed out.

  “Not this minute, you’re not,” I said to her. “Stay still.”

  I got out of the car and went around to the passenger’s seat, opening it to see she was looking up at me expectantly. I looked down to see that her ankle was even more swollen, the size of my fist now, and I wondered again if it was broken.

  “Are you sure I can’t take you to the—”

  She shook her head, starting to get up without my help. I took her arm and helped her get out of the car, though when we got outside, she couldn’t put any weight on her foot. Before she could protest, I lifted her into my arms, holding her against me as I closed the car door with my hip.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with pain and drink and curiosity.

  “You can’t walk,” I said, going inside. I carried her up the stairs to the third floor, not minding the extra weight in my arms. If I was honest with myself, it was nice to hold her against me, despite the fact that I barely knew her and that she was going to be my employee. When we got to her apartment, she handed me her keys and I unlocked the door, opening it and pushing inside.

  It was cold in the apartment—too cold, but when we got inside, she didn’t instruct me to turn the temperature up.

  “You can put me on the couch,” she said softly, and I put her down rather reluctantly. I helped her prop her leg up on the nearby table, grimacing when I saw how swollen it was, how much it must hurt.

  “I need you—do you think you can help me?” she asked, looking embarrassed. “I have some ice in the freezer.”

  “Yes,” I said to her immediately. “Do you have scissors?”

  “Scissors?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

  “I, uh—I should probably cut your tights off,” I said to her, giving her a hesitant glance. I didn’t want to come across as creepy, but I couldn’t imagine how much it would hurt for her to have to try to pull them down her legs. She swallowed, nodding.

  “In the bottom drawer in the kitchen,” she said to me. I got up and went to find the supplies, finding a first-aid kit in the drawer along with the scissors. Though it was cool in the apartment, it was a comfortable place, with pictures of smiling kids hanging on the walls and a soft golden décor that was regal as much as it was cozy. I returned to find her sunk back into the couch, staring at the ceiling. When I walked in, she grinned at me.

  “You’re not my brother,” she said.

  “No, I’m not your brother,” I told her, laughing as I sat down on the floor, pulling her foot gently into my lap. She watched as I took the scissors and slowly cut around her leg, pulling the hose off tenderly over her ankle. It was purple and swollen, but it didn’t look like there was anything wrong with her foot, at least.

  “This is weird,” she said, and I had to agree with her. It was mostly weird because sitting there, touching her soft skin as I pulled the hose off, was ripening my desire for her, especially when she looked at me with that glint in her eye like she enjoyed my touch, despite her obvious pain. I held the bag of ice to her ankle, pressing against it gently as I held her foot in my lap.

  “Am I fired?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” I said. “We’ll see if you behave better at work than you do in your time off.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t,” she said, a playful look on her face. “I’m afraid this is as good as it gets.”

  “That might warrant some punishment,” I said to her, feeling her shiver, realizing only then that my hand was touching the top of her calf, just below her knee. I found my finger stroking the soft skin there, felt her breath catch in her throat when I pulled my hand away quickly, surprised by my own actions.

  “What kind of boss should I expect you to be, Mr. Sylvester?” she asked.

  “I’m the good guy,” I said to her.

  “Obviously,” she said. “Although I don’t believe that in every case.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked her, switching the bag of ice over to the other side of her foot. She winced, though she was still leaning back against the couch, her eyes growing sleepier and sleepier.

  “I mean I think you’re probably more than capable of being the bad guy,” she said.

  I raised my eyebrows. “What would give you that impression?”

  “The way you look at me,” she said softly, her eyes on mine. “The way you touch me.”

  “I wouldn’t hurt you,” I said to her.

  “Not in a bad way,” she said, shaking her head.

  I cleared my throat then, knowing that the conversation was going in the completely wrong direction.

  “I’m going to wrap your ankle up and then you should go to sleep.”

  “Okay,” she said to me, though her eyes were still on my face, her lips slightly parted. I had to keep myself from touching her leg again, from sliding my hands higher and giving in to the tension between us that had been so instant and chemical. But she was drunk and was also my employee, so I finished wrapping her ankle and stood up, lifting her into my arms again. I carried her into her bedroom and put her on the bed. She blinked at me with heavy lids, her eyes only half-focused, close to passing out. She stared up at my face as I propped a pillow under her foot.

  “I’ll be there in the morning,” she said as I stood to leave.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “We’ll see you next week.”

  “But—”

  “You come into work tomorrow, you’re fired.”

  She laughed, her eyes closing before she could say another word. I knew she was asleep by the time I left the apartment, searching for a thermostat to turn it up a few degrees. I was almost shivering, and though she’d been piled between three blankets, it was much too cold in there for her to feel better. When I found the thermostat, I saw it was only sixty degrees in the house, and the heat didn’t seem to be working. I sighed, knowing there was nothing I could do about it, and left her apartment with my
head spinning.

  4

  Victoria

  I woke up groaning, my head spinning and my ankle throbbing in pain. I smacked the alarm clock, shutting it up, though it seemed like I could still hear the ringing in my head even after it had quieted. I looked over to see it was seven in the morning, then down at my swollen ankle and suddenly remembered everything that had happened the night before—getting terribly drunk, calling my boss by accident. He’d carried me up the stairs, wrapped my ankle up in a way that had me squirming on the couch in my drunkenness, wet and swollen with desire for him.

  I got out of bed, nearly crying out when I landed on my foot. I managed to hop to the closet, where my previous roommate had left her crutches before she’d left. I was grateful for them as I put them under my arms, making my way to the bathroom. I grimaced when I looked in the mirror to see that my mascara was smeared, my lips red and swollen from my lipstick. I’d probably looked just as messy to Louis the night before. I shook my head, regretting every moment of it. I didn’t usually drink that much, but I’d been so excited about getting my dream job that I’d invited my friends out to celebrate. They’d left early and I’d carried on drinking, and that’s how I ended up in my new boss’s arms, being carried up the stairs after I’d nearly broken my ankle slipping drunkenly on the ice.

  I looked at the clock and my heart started to race as I quickly got ready for work, keeping my leg out of the shower as I rushed through it. It was hard to get around with my swollen ankle but I knew I had to be at work, had to make a good impression on my first day. If I didn’t go and the other two showed up, it would look bad for me. I didn’t want to take the chance of being on any of the partners’ bad side before I even got to prove myself to them.

  It took me some time to get ready, and even more time to wrangle the crutches in and out of a cab to take me to the office. I went inside, using my crutches as I headed toward the elevator. When I got in, somebody called out for me to hold the door, and when I did I saw that it was the man from the interview—the young one named Zachary. He looked down at my leg, at the crutches, and gave me a smug look.