Hard Boss: An Enemies To Lovers Romance

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

JULIETTE

C hoosing a dress for my first day at work is proving to be unnecessarily difficult. It’s a hard choice since it has to be something between simple and professional. I stare at myself in the mirror and take in the black suit I have on. I look okay in it, but it’s a bit funereal and okay isn’t what I’m going for this morning.

Today is a day of first impressions, and I really do want to make a good one. I want to get in, do my job, and return home. Repeat the same process for as long as it takes to gather all the money I need. Jenny says I might spend my first day meeting with other girls and that’s okay. I’m not emotionally invested or looking for any opportunities here. I just need to make more money and save enough to start my bakery.

My job is simple. I’m what Jenny calls a replacement secretary. There are men who are too important to survive a day without an assistant, and should a case arise where their regular assistant or secretaries aren’t available, they reach out to my agency to hire a secretary on rental. The job description is simple enough. I’m to perform all the tasks required of a secretary.

I should go for something chic and simple. A powder blue suit, very demure. My intention is to look like a ray of sunshine, approachable and friendly, but still interesting, given the slit that extends a couple of inches above my knees. I hope it’s not too much. I certainly don’t want to offend anybody. For makeup, I go light like I usually do. Anymore and I’ll be too busy trying to keep from clawing my face off from the tingling.

There, I’m ready for my first day at work!

Filled with excitement and intense anxiety I start the commute over. I really need this to work. I need the money so badly. The drive takes about thirty minutes, and Jenny is there to welcome me.

“Juliette, I’m glad you could make it,” she says and pulls me into a hug as she leads me down the hall to join the other girls. It really helps to settle my nerves and is just what I need.

There are about six of them in an open office area and Jenny tells me they are all waiting on a call to serve as a short-term secretary. If today is a busy day, Jenny says we will all be out of the building in an hour. But she is pretty sure it won’t be. I hope it is because the contract I signed, while I get a base fee, is based on commission. The more jobs I get, the higher my commission.

Juliette introduces me to the other girls, and it quickly becomes obvious that I have much to learn. I sit quietly and listen attentively to the girls talk, looking to see if I can make friends with any of them. They talk about their recent encounters with some of the bosses and complain about some bosses that are a pain in the ass to work with.

“All I’m saying is basic decency requires you address me by my name and not whistle to call me,” one of the girls says with a shake of her head. “I have a name. It’s Tessa. Call it.”

Jenny excuses herself to get to work and I move closer to the girls so I can join in on their conversation.

“Hi, I’m Kendra,” one of the girls introduces herself and then the other girls introduce themselves. I try to remember all of their names because they’ll be colleagues for as long as I remain with the agency, and I know I need to form a good rapport with them.

“Hey everybody. My name is Juliette,” I reply and ask a question that has been bothering me. “It isn’t always like that, is it? You get decent bosses sometimes?”

“You get decent ones most times. They come in different flavors, but most of them are too busy to notice you. Some can be so stressed they are stuck in rude mode. You’ll learn to tolerate and handle each of them very quickly. None of us plan to be here forever. It is just temporary. I’m doing this to put myself through college,” Kendra says. She can tell I’m already worried about working with the kind of bosses Tessa just described. However, if anyone can handle such bosses, it’s me.

This is consoling feedback. I don’t tell her I plan on saving enough to open my bakery. I have a tangible amount saved already and if the payment scheme Jenny shared with me is correct, I’ll need to do about eighty to a hundred gigs to get enough money to open my bakery. That is roughly a year’s worth of work.

Jenny returns after a while and helps me through the registration process. After the registration, I join the other girls at the open office. The number has increased in the short time I was with Jenny. Having no intention of excluding myself, I join them and introduce myself to the newcomers. Some are cordial, a couple are cold, and a few are nonchalant. I don’t really care. No emotional attachments, I remind myself. I have a goal, and this is all I should put my focus on.

Most of the girls get called to places that have requested them. I have no choice but to wait. After about an hour of waiting, Jenny comes outside with a folder in hand.

“We have a last-minute gig that has just come in,” she announces, and the handful of us look up at in her.

“Who is it?” one of the girls asks.

“Aliya has called in sick.”

“Again?” Kendra groans.

“Oh, I’m sure she is sick. Sick of his ass, no doubt,” another girl says, and the other murmur in agreement.

I’m lost here, but I guess this is one of the bosses Tessa was talking about.

“Am I assuming there are no takers?” Jenny asks.

The girls look blandly at Jenny. I get the message. This is my chance to get my first job. But why are the others reluctant and unwilling to work with this man?

“Who is Aliya?” I ask Kendra.

“The right question is who is her boss,” Kendra says.

“Hudson Sinclair,” Susan, a petite red-head provides the answer. I catch the resentment in her voice.

“You don’t want to be working for him, dear. And definitely not as your first gig,” Tessa adds.

“Why not?”

“He’s an asshole, is why,” Susan explains. “He is a perfectionist to the letter. Difficult to work with and his assistant Aliya is always calling in sick. We all think she calls in sick whenever she doesn’t want to put up with his bullshit.”

“If it were me, that’ll be every day,” one of the girls mutters.

“He can’t be that bad,” I say.

“Oh, he’s worse,” Susan says tartly. “I made the mistake of working for him three weeks ago because I needed the commission. The worst day of my life. I counted down the minutes until my time was over.”

Hudson Sinclair sounds like someone I should avoid, but beggars can’t be choosy. A plan is fomenting in my mind. If Hudson has an assistant who calls in sick consistently, he must be a regular here and if no one is willing to take up his gig, it’ll always be available for me.

“How often does Aliya get sick?” I ask.

“Maybe once or twice a month,” Tessa answers my question.

They are all looking at me now, wondering if I will be crazy enough to risk working for Hudson Sinclair on my first day at work.

An average of five times a month gives me sixty gigs assured in the year. Couple that with other gigs I’ll pick up along the line, and I’ll hit the hundred mark and get the big bonus, which will be more than enough money to start my bakery.

Susan shakes her head with disbelief. “You really aren’t thinking of doing it? You’ll be crazy to.”

“What’s life without a little craziness?” I ask and pick up my bag, heading towards Jenny.

“I knew you’d say yes,” Jenny says with a cheeky grin. “You never could resist a challenge.”

“The other girls think I’m being a fool.”

“Do you want the truth from me?” she asks with arched eyebrows.

“Go for it.”

“Will it change your mind?”

“I don’t think so,” I reply.

“Good. They’re right. Sinclair is a repeat client. He is terrible to work with and will constantly keep you on your toes. Nothing you do is ever good enough for him, and you shouldn’t expect even the slightest bit of appreciation from him. It’s like you don’t exist to him. But we keep him because he pays well.”

“Even if he’s an inconvenience to the girls?”

“We try not to force him on any of the girls. We let them decide to work with him. The last two calls he made for a secretary were left unanswered because we were unable to assist him as no one was willing to work with him. We’ve explained to him why that is so, but he is unwilling to change.”

“He sounds like a terrible person.”

Jenny cocks her head and then shakes it. “He isn’t terrible per se. I’ve worked with him when I was still a temp. He is straightforward and curt. If you try to stick to his rules, you won’t get into any trouble with him. Of course, you won’t enjoy the work, but are you here to enjoy it?”

I get the message.

“Alright. What do I need to know about the job?”

“It involves traveling,” Jenny says. “So, it is a high-paying commission, and we don’t know how long it’ll last. He has left the contract open-ended. Of course, you’re free to break it off at any time. But I’ll advise you not to. You’ll forfeit the bonus that should come with such a lengthy gig.”

“So, I’m going to work with a man no one is willing to work with for an unspecified length of time, and your best advice is for me to leave unless the time expires.”

“Pretty much,” Jenny shrugs.

“This should be fun,” I say and relax. The others might have bad reviews for Mr. Sinclair, but I intend to have a good time working for him. It might not be enjoyable, as Jenny pointed out, but it won’t be miserable.

I complete the required paperwork, and Jenny orders me an Uber to drive me to the office. Back in the open office, the other girls tell me they think I’m crazy. Kendra calls me cuckoo. When we arrive at the building, I walk up to the receptionist at the front desk and explain who I am to her.

“Are you new?” she asks me.

“Yes.”

She gives me the direction to Hudson Sinclair’s office. As the elevator takes me up to the floor his office is on, I have half the mind to stop the elevator, ride it back down and return to Jenny and tell her I changed my mind.

Jenny wouldn’t begrudge me of the choice, I’m certain.

But I have never been one to chicken out of a tough situation. When life gives you lemons, you throw them into a blender and make lemonade. I get to the office and knock on the door. A husky voice calls from behind the door.

“Come in,” it says.

I open the door and find a man busy at work on his laptop. Without looking at me he groans.

“They found someone for me,” he mutters grumpily to himself. “I wonder if this one will be any good.”