Arrogant Boss

“They have an inferior code structure for how they handle mail communications. The servers’ response time is too slow, and I know what the problem is.”

We double-checked that I’d locked the car before making it to the front door. I smiled as I dug around in my purse for the house keys, hiding in the bottom. “That place is going to be ten times better once you’re done with it, Turner.”

“Maybe more like twice as good, Emily. That’s more realistic.” He hung his backpack on the designated hook in our entry. “It’s my turn to make dinner tonight.”

“I know. I’ll be downstairs and ready at 7 o’clock.”

We’d operated on a standard schedule every week for the past four or five years, a whiteboard calendar in the kitchen making it easy to plan for each coming week.

Turner enjoyed punctuality and regularity, and Mom had installed that calendar when he was just shy of ten. Each Sunday we would all fill it out and then act accordingly. I had to give it to Mom-it had done a lot to boost my own punctuality and productivity as well.

I retreated into Dad’s old study while Turner busied himself in the kitchen. I’d spent the entire day reading up on Hunt Industries and all former ad campaigns. Rachel had given me copies of their progress in formulating new ones, with sketches of branding options and color schemes. My head spun in the best of ways. I couldn’t wait to get back in tomorrow and brainstorm with the team.

It had been a long time since I felt like that.

Coincidentally, it had also been a long time since I’d been around a man as attractive as Julian Hunt.

My hands flew across the keyboard as if of their own volition. I’m all for dogs, but Google really was man’s best friend.

An unsmiling image of Julian came up immediately. He was dressed in a tux and posing at a charity event for water purification technology for the developing world. He looked imposing and unreadable, nothing like the smiling man in the elevator.

I scrolled down and clicked on the Wikipedia page dedicated to him. Thirty-four years old with one younger half-brother. His father, the late state senator Arthur Hunt, had remarried after the divorce with his first wife.

Julian spent his college years creating software that he later sold for a record-breaking figure and used the money to set up his own company. They had now expanded into app development, software programming, technological advancements and start-up incubation.

I sighed. I really would have to learn all that tech stuff if I was going to effectively market Hunt.

I clicked on the section labeled personal life with apprehension. I had no idea what I’d find. Was he also a well-known connoisseur of blow-up dolls? Did he own and operate forty ice-cream trucks?

Had he been married for twelve years?

Did he have five illegitimate children?

The internet had very little information to share with me. A few brief relationships with people of note, a couple of models and one b-list celebrity, but other than that nothing. He’d never been married.

I scrolled back up and was met again by the image of his tux-clad, ridiculously handsome form. Even seeing it on a screen sent my heart into overdrive. Men shouldn’t be allowed to be so attractive, particularly not ones who poked fun at themselves in elevators and smelled of sandalwood aftershave. It wasn’t fair.

This job was fun.

It was exciting.

And I knew I couldn’t jeopardize it for this man, particularly not when any interest he had in me was for, without a doubt, something short-lived and temporary.

Men like Julian Hunt very clearly didn’t end up with women like me, that much was clear. I couldn’t delude myself that he would.

I glanced down at the time. 6:58. I closed the computer and followed the scent of spaghetti carbonara to the kitchen. Tomorrow I’d prove to everyone that I was kick-ass at my job-and I would prove to myself that my foolish attraction to Julian Hunt was only due to a dry spell, and nothing more.

Emily. Pet and Co ran about ten marketing campaigns a year.

Hunt Industries ran about a hundred, and that was only in the continental US.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

Any fears I might have had about Julian’s motivations behind hiring me were dismissed by the veritable mountain of projects Rachel dropped on my desk.

“We’re planning on launching seven new products in the coming thirteen months. I know this looks like a lot, and that’s because it is.” She grinned at me. “But it’s also going to be a lot of fun.”

I smiled back at her. “I’ll read up on this right away, and hopefully I can take on a more productive role tomorrow.”

“Sounds awesome. Tomorrow’s meeting will start around eight-thirty in meeting room C, by the way.” She rolled her eyes. “Josef claims he’s going to bring home-made bagels for everyone, but I wouldn’t trust him.”

“I’ll make sure to eat breakfast before.”

“Good. But if he asks…”

“I didn’t hear it from you.” I pretended to zip my mouth shut. She gave me a wink and left my office, her bright skirt swooshing around her legs.

The camaraderie at this office was a complete one-eighty from Pet and Co. There, the best I could hope for was the occasional encouraging thumbs up from the receptionist. That was it. No other socialization took place, neither at work nor outside of it.

I threw myself into the world of app creation and software developing. Taking art as a subject in high school really helped me with this, I thought sarcastically. The most advanced thing I’d ever done in this field was rebooting my computer when it occasionally crashed. Did that count?

I’d made it half-way through the information folder on a new data storage technique when a knock on the door interrupted me.

I kept my eyes glued to the spot where I was, as not to lose it. “Yes?”

“You don’t even look up now when you have visitors?”

I closed the folder.

“Mr. Hunt. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m glad you think of my presence as a pleasure.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. I hated that he managed to look both rich and casual, powerful and lazy, leaning against the door in a suit that was doubtless Italian in origin. It had to be the undone top button.

The lack of a tie.

The infuriating smirk.

I hadn’t seen him around for the past week. Not because he wasn’t an active participant in the company-he seemed to be highly involved in everything Hunt Industries did-but rather because he was always so busy.

“I’ll add that to the list of figures of speech to avoid using around you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re catching on. Well, get up and let’s go. I’m here to take you to lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“Yes. There’s a restaurant on the first floor of this building. I want to make sure you’re settling in all right.”

“Is that’s the CEO’s job?” Surely that should be HR’s role.