Obsessed with My Grumpy Boss

Chapter 6

Hazel

I threadmy fingers together as we stroll into a mansion that could be in a Hollywood movie. It has a sense of old money, yes, but it”s also modern, with its minimalist lines, lack of clutter, and accent pieces adding backstory to each piece of furniture.

A home. As expensive as it must be, this place feels like someone”s home, even though it could pass for a party venue right now, with servers dressed in black milling around and guests dressed to the nines gathered in groups.

I take a deep breath. The moment Archer touches the small of my back, excitement flutters in my stomach and slides over my chest.

Introductions are made. The owner of this mansion is Malcolm Hayes, the filthy rich forty-something entrepreneur who invited us. Well, not us. Archer. I know that because I spoke to his assistant a few times. I also know that Malcolm was dating someone for a while, so to find him hosting alone makes me wonder what happened.

Needless to say, he”s also strikingly handsome and in his forties.

I sigh.

”Your home is impressive,” I say.

”Thank you,” he replies, leaning closer. ”Your name suits you. Pretty eyes.”

A warmth spreads across my cheeks. Of course, he”s just being nice. I work for a grump, and I’ve forgotten what it”s like to be complimented.

But Archer quickly reminds me of his presence—he puts his arms around me possessively and says, ”Is Brooks here?”

Malcolm nods. ”Yes, I”ll be happy to introduce you to him. He”s outside.”

”Great. Sweetheart, why don”t you settle in and grab a drink? I”ll be right back,” Archer says, kissing my cheek before he disappears with Malcolm.

Sweetheart?I shake my head, confused and frustrated. He left me alone in the living room mid-party, which doesn”t surprise me—he wants to make this connection, and it”ll be quicker if I”m not there. But wasn”t that why he brought me? Because most of the other guests have a date? To smooth his rough demeanor?

Why leave me like this?

Unless… he didn”t want me to come because he wanted me to stay away from Malcolm. I chuckle. What a ridiculous idea. Even if he”s single now, Malcolm could have anyone he wanted. Still, the way Archer kissed my cheek and put his arm around me earlier was the equivalent of showing teeth and growling in the animal kingdom.

Or maybe I”m wrong. I”m his assistant. That”s the reality of things, and at the core, coming here is work. He saw an opportunity and took it, and this isn”t any different from me running his errands. I”m at a fancy party. Relax.

The server comes by, and I take a flute of champagne.

A couple of women wave at me with inviting smiles. I bet if I joined their group, they”d chat with me. That”s what I should do—talk and relax.

Holding the flute, I stride in their direction when someone bumps into my side, and a wet sensation spreads over my ribs.

”Oh, I”m so sorry. Are you okay?” asks a stunning brunette about my age.

”Yes.”

It registers that she accidentally bumped into me—or maybe I bumped into her. But since her turquoise dress is pristine, it’s clear I got the short end of the stick. Her red wine shows on my dress. Technically, not even my dress, but Emma’s.

”It”s no big deal,” I say with a nervous laugh that I doubt will fool anyone. Even though my borrowed dress is red, it”s a different shade than the wine. Shit.

”We”ll take care of it. Come with me, there”s a guest suite that way,” she says, cocking her head to the side.

I follow her, not wanting to draw attention to this mishap, and she takes me to a bedroom at the end of the hall. As I enter, I realize it must be a guest room. It doesn”t have pictures or personal objects, and it”s pristine and clean, with a nicely made bed, a sleek TV, and other pieces of furniture.

”Okay, let’s remove that stain,” she says like a woman on a mission. ”Go to the ensuite bathroom, remove your dress, and slip into the robe hanging on the door.”

”Oh. Do you live here?” I ask, confused.

She smiles. ”No, but I know because my husband and I had too much to drink once and ended up in this bedroom.”

”I see. Like you couldn”t drive home?”

She blushes. ”Not exactly. We visited this room… more in passing.”

In passing, ha. She banged her husband in someone else”s house. Envy flutters through me. I wish I had someone to bang in anyone”s house. Maybe not mine—it would be weird with Dad and Moonshine under the same roof as me and my imaginary boyfriend.

I go to the bathroom, take off my dress, grab the robe, and put it on. The gray robe is fluffy, the fabric hugging me tenderly. When I return, I show her the dress. ”What”s your plan?”

”I”ll go get some salt or baking soda. I sprinkle it on, let it soak, and the stain is gone in ten minutes or so.”

I sit on the edge of the enormous bed. ”I”m glad one of us knows what to do.”

She shrugs and says wistfully, ”My mom was a whiz at removing stains.”

My heart shrinks. Sarah is about my age, give or take a year—so young to have lost her mother. I give her an apologetic smile. ”Mine too. But sadly, I didn”t pay much attention to those particular lessons.”

She slants her head to the side, and a touch of empathy flickers in her eyes. ”Oh. You lost your mom also?”

I nod.

She clutches the dress in her hands. ”I”m sorry to hear that. I”ll go get your dress unstained and honor both of our moms.”

An easy energy bounces between us. Maybe that easy rapport would’ve happened if I had a sister. Someone to confide in. I always missed it in my childhood. ”Sounds like a good plan.”

”By the way… I forgot to introduce myself. I”m Sarah Harrington.”

Harrington? Is she related to the guy Archer wanted to meet, Brooks Harrington?

I lower my gaze to her hand and see her wedding band right next to a ginormous engagement ring. What a small world. ”Nice to meet you. I”m Hazel.”