The Boss Problem (New York Office Billionaires #2)

1. Chloe

The name on the coffee cup— Chloe —was mine, but the check marks on the label were right next to decaf and cappuccino .

Under notes, someone had scribbled dry .

It had been sitting for the longest time on the counter of The Jumpy Bean—a café on my way to my fiancé, Bruce’s, house.

The problem was that while I was Chloe, it was not the drink that I’d ordered via the app.

But then again, it was seven in the morning, and mistakes could be made at this ungodly hour.

I’d been here for fifteen minutes now, I realized after checking my phone for the time.

Since I was planning on eloping with Bruce in two hours, I was in a bit of a hurry.

I’d already gotten a flat white for Bruce.

If only my drink would show up.

Setting my phone and Bruce’s freshly dry-cleaned suit down on the counter, I grabbed the cup marked Chloe and walked up to the cashier, whose nametag read ‘Mia’.

It took two attempts to get Mia to look at me.

When she did, she froze while I acknowledged that a woman in a white wedding dress at a café was bound to get some jaws dropping.

It wasn’t too expensive , I wanted to say about my wedding dress, realizing that anyone’s first concern would be about getting coffee on the dress.

You could drop coffee on it and pop into a dry cleaner for a quick wash, and it would be as good as new.

Initially, I hadn’t been too happy about getting my dress from the clearance section of David’s Bridal, but now, I could agree that a cheap wedding dress had its perks.

But something else struck me.

Mia wasn’t staring at me.

What could be more astounding than a bride in white lace and frills, tempting fate by getting coffee first?

A quick check confirmed that there was a hulking man behind me, a man Mia was ogling.

A man who seemed to fill out the space quite comfortably and whose physique quite justified the ogling.

The man didn’t look at us, but someone in the line behind him coughed, reminding Mia and me of our manners.

“Can I help you?” Mia asked finally, tearing her eyes away from the man behind me.

I had to resist looking over my shoulder at the man who seemed to command so much attention.

When you were almost married, as I was, second looks at other men were not in the cards.

I forced myself to think about the problem at hand and held my drink out.

“This cup has my name on it, but it isn’t the drink I ordered via the app. But because it’s been sitting there for over ten minutes now, I suspect it could be mine. But I asked for an Americano, not a cappuccino,” I said, placing the cup on the counter as I registered that Mia was now giving me a pointed glare while also trying to keep a smile on her face and look approachable.

“Sorry about that,” Mia said, reaching for a cup.

“I’ll get the right drink going for you now.”

The man behind me cleared his throat, which I knew was an indication of me taking too much time, so I thanked Mia and turned around.

The man I saw had two fine eyebrows on a dimpled face with eyes that were deep brown.

His gaze met mine, and I realized he was definitely irritated.

The dimple disappeared, and he spoke.

“Excuse me, are you done?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

I had stepped aside and was not blocking his path to Mia or the counter, but he’d still insisted on asking me this question, which was something I’d seen irritable people do.

“Yes, of course,” I said.

“I can’t spend more than twenty minutes here because I plan to get married to my fiancé this morning, and I need to be at court in under an hour. So, yes, I am done.”

There was a sudden silence as the man’s eyes lingered on my face for a moment longer than was necessary.

His gaze rested on me, as though he actually saw me and saw something he liked.

“I was hoping the wedding dress you’re wearing was for a costume party instead.” His voice was wry as he continued to gaze at me, and his lips had a mocking smile.

I realized he was joking.

Of course he knew I was headed to a wedding.

Why was I announcing it to everyone when my dress was already doing it for me?

“No, it’s not,” I replied curtly, but he was already speaking to Mia and placing his order for an Americano.

I pressed my lips together, unsure what to make of him.

Unfortunately, he was the kind of guy that women found attractive, so I bet he was the kind of guy who had success in flirting with other women.

He had short brown hair that was cut very well, a kind of windswept look to him even if the look implied that he had just stepped out of a hair salon, which couldn’t be true really since it was only a little after seven in the morning.

I turned to go, heading to the counter where my Americano was ready.

Just as I went for the coffee cup, the handsome man swooped in.

He reached in front of me for the cup.

“Ah, my coffee. Thank you.”

Startled, I territorially put my hand on the lid of the cup while he held fast to the cup.

Sure, he had broad shoulders, but that didn’t change the fact that he was unmistakably condescending.

And it irritated me.

“Wait, no! That’s mine. I paid for it,” I said, even though Mia hadn’t written any name on the cup.

The man raised a cocky eyebrow, his charcoal suit not showing a single crease while he stepped forward.

“ You paid for it? Darling, you’re mistaken. I always get my coffee here, and I know when it is mine.”

His hand touched my fingers, and the touch felt like fire on my skin.

My first instinct told me to yank my hand away—I had no business feeling tingly feelings today, of all days, with another man—before I realized he’d run off with my coffee if he had the chance.

Thank goodness he was a jerk.

Those nerves in my stomach would disappear soon.

My voice trembling, I protested, “Look, I work really hard at my job just to afford this. It’s been a rough morning, and I need that caffeine boost.”

Leaning in, the beautiful man smirked, a look that only made him seem more irritatingly handsome.

“Rough morning? I doubt your definition of rough matches mine. I practically own this place.”

My eyes narrowed.

I’d had enough.

“Listen, dude,” I said firmly, “I don’t care if you’re a millionaire or the king of coffee. That cup is mine.”

He smirked, leaning casually against the counter.

“Well, darling, I?—”

Before he could finish, I pulled the cup toward me.

His hand slipped over mine, our hands collided, and hot coffee spilled onto the counter.

The barista looked up from the espresso machine, alarmed.

“Whoa, folks! Easy there!”

Ignoring him, I stared at the man.

“I won’t back down,” I said, my voice determined.

“Not today.”

He wiped some of the coffee off his cuff before he looked at me, his intense expression unreadable.

His gaze roved my face before he spoke slowly.

“You’re quite the feisty one, aren’t you?”

I grabbed the now-free cup, my knuckles white.

“Yes, and unlucky for you, today just happens to be my day.”

I clutched the cup to me just as he reached for it, grasping at the space where the cup was.

Feeling victorious, I placed my two drinks into a cardboard tray, and picking up my drink and Bruce’s suit, I headed toward the door.

At the door, I paused and turned around for a last look at the coffeehouse man before I pushed the door open.

“Someone had to put him in his place,” I muttered.

He had turned around, and he was looking in my direction.

Our gazes met, and for an instant, it was as if the air around me had charged up.

I felt the intensity of his gaze pulling me in until, flustered, I turned away.

But not before I had this odd, out-of-place thought.

He is totally the kind of guy I’d be attracted to if I wasn’t in love already.

And if he wasn’t a jerk.

I walked out of the café and into the early September morning sun.

I shook off all thoughts of the jerk as I looked around.

New York in the fall was beautiful if you asked me.

New York at any time of the year was beautiful.

Some people complained about the tourists, but I still loved the variety of people you met here.

Like the skateboard guy who showed up at our apartment daily, selling apples to fund his next movie.

I didn’t like the premise of his movie—too violent—but I still bought his apples every day because dreams must be encouraged.

If you didn’t stand up for another person’s dreams, how could you stand up for your own?

I didn’t have too many dreams at the moment.

Getting married was one that was coming true soon.

I figured I’d sort out the rest of my life later.

My regular day had three main priorities—taking care of my wheelchair-bound brother, Henry; working as an admin assistant in Mindwell Inc.

; and spending time with Bruce.

Today, I wouldn’t be able to get to the working as an admin assistant part of my day and would barely spend time with Henry.

Thankfully, Bruce lived not too far from here, and I couldn’t wait to surprise him with the cup of coffee.

I wasn’t going to let Bruce see me in my wedding dress, but I did want to hand over the tux at his doorstep.

I wanted to see him before we met at the courthouse.

My court wedding was in a few hours—nothing fancy, just a simple ceremony.

But it felt meaningful, like the start of something new.

I felt the anticipation rise in my chest.

“Excuse me,” a less familiar voice called out from behind me.

I turned around and saw those brown eyes again.

It was the same man from the café.

For an instant, I felt worried.

Had he followed me out here to argue with me?

But I noticed he had a smile on his face.

A charming smile.

The fact that he’d followed me out onto the sidewalk ought to be mildly startling.

Instead, I felt a sense of weakening in my knees as I continued to gaze at him.

“You left something behind at the café,” he said.

I looked at his hands, which I noticed were really broad, before I saw my phone in one of them.

My heartbeat picked up at the thought that I’d almost lost my phone.

I couldn’t afford another phone.

Setting the tray of coffee drinks and Bruce’s suit down on a nearby café table, I turned to him.

I stared at my phone in his large hand, feeling immediately guilty for the way I’d behaved with him.

He was nice if he could care enough to return the phone to me after our little fight.

“Isn’t this yours?” he asked, his voice like velvet.

My heart swelled as I nodded and reached for it.

“Thank you,” I said, noticing the phone light up.

I was getting a call, and it was my brother, Henry.

My stomach immediately knotted in worry.

“But first,” the man said with an undeniably triumphant look as he held on to the phone, “I’ll need the cup of coffee.”

My jaw dropped.

“Are you serious?” I demanded, feeling instantly angry.

All thoughts of me feeling guilty for my behavior went out the window.

How dare he?

He held the phone out of my reach.

“I am if you want this back,” he said, holding it up just as Henry’s phone call ended.

Shit.