Bad Boss An Office Romance

“Kelsey, don’t forget Mr. Craft takes his coffee black.”

I offered a pleasant nod toward the intern who’s been here for only six weeks. She threw a wink and tossed her pin straight blonde hair my way, then swayed her nearly six-foot perfect frame toward the conference room.

My smile quickly flipped to a frown, holding in my eye roll to the best of my ability. I had been in this reception chair for almost two years, way longer than I’d planned. Knowing how my thick-head of a boss takes his coffee was a given.

Another few interns my age pranced after her, their clothing precise and professional to fit their well-kept bodies. My brand new shift dress didn’t quite have the same effect when walking past any warm blooded males like theirs did.

Maybe I was stuck behind the reception desk because my confidence wasn’t like theirs, or because Mr. Craft had a particular eye for his interns.

Who all happened to be tall, thin, and beautiful.

I was lucky to be chosen for the program at the most successful marketing firm in Cleveland. My test scores proved my worth, along with my killer final project. I’d pitched an idea on how to market a running shoe at an affordable cost to multiple stereotypes. Let’s just say I did such a good job that employees had a hefty bonus from the surplus of sales.

While everyone else in the room was impressed, my boss, Mr. Craft, stayed straight faced, the same tense jaw and scowl firmly in place as always. I’d only amused him enough to be hired in as his personal assistant, not as one of the marketing coordinators.

I wasn’t offended, but according to my new coworkers, it was rare for Craft to hire any interns into the company after they’d served their time, and I was fortunate to have the job he gave me.

I assumed I’d be hired within a year. One of those, put up with the grunt work and it’ll pay off gigs. Yet still I sit, getting glares from Mr. Craft every morning, being ridiculed because I didn’t complete tasks to his satisfaction. He was arrogant; always pointing out that my ideas weren’t substantial enough.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he weren’t so attractive. Talk about being tongue tied because of beauty. It’s one thing to hate an asshole who’s older than dirt and not attractive, but the man had a perfectly sculpted face, and deliciously blue eyes that would draw you into hypnosis. He couldn’t be much over thirty; an unlikely age for a man in such a high career place. My panties were damp after he’d walk into the room, but then he would open his mouth, and all inappropriate thoughts and fantasies would vanish in an instant.

You’re two minutes late, Ms. Neely. I suggest you set your alarm earlier next time. Your coffee making skills don’t match your resume. If I wanted to be a diabetic, I’d have you get me a bacon cheeseburger for breakfast. Ms. Neely, the last I knew, paper clips were made in different sizes, I’d appreciate you attempting to learn which size is appropriate for what amount of papers.

He had an opinion for everything, and the way his mouth curled before he’d put in his two cents, made my thighs tremble. His lack of empathy and self-righteousness annoyed me as much as it turned me on.

So for now I sit, making copies, getting coffee, and keeping his schedule. My parents think I’m crazy and should use my brain and transfer to another company where I’d actually be of use.

If the end of the year strolled around and I was still getting dirty looks and snide comments, I’d be long gone. Having Craft Marketing on my resume would guarantee me a job anywhere I wanted, and I was willing to put up with his bullshit if it meant I’d be able to advance myself.

“Did you see the new batch?” Mindy, the secretary to Mr. Craft’s partner asked with a sneer.

“Yes, they sure seem perky,” I muttered, grabbing Mr. Craft’s one and only black coffee mug and headed to the work room. I had ten minutes before he arrived, leaving me time to make a fresh pot that would be at the correct temperature to his pleasing.

“Perky is right. I don’t understand how these chicks can afford boob jobs fresh out of college.”

I laughed, opening the door to the lounge. “They all come from money, or they worked extra hard in college for them.”

Mindy rose a brow. “You mean working the sidewalks?”

I shrugged my shoulders, pulling out Mr. Craft’s personal coffee tin. He didn’t like to share, and had fired a poor intern who’d mistakenly made some for herself. I wasn’t lying when I said he was an asshole. “Never said that.”

She fluffed her curly strawberry-blonde hair in the mirror next to a motivational poster. She was more gorgeous than the interns, only a few years older, but you would never had known unless you got a glimpse of her driver’s license.

She turned and eyed me up and down. “That’s a new dress, isn’t it? You look awesome in blue, Kelsey. You should wear it more often.”