Unlocking my Boss’s Heart (Romance in Sweet Comedy #4)

1. Anton

Chapter one

Anton

F or a few minutes, the world was silent. The blinds were open, and all the lights were off. I sat in my office, savoring the darkness. With my chair turned away from the desk, I faced the floor-to-ceiling windows, waiting for the sun to rise over the Manhattan skyscrapers.

Slowly, the first orange wisps spilled from behind the high-rises, and I watched in blissful calm, sipping my steaming mug of black coffee. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, enjoying the solitude before the hectic day began. It was one of those rare moments where the stillness of the early morning seemed to stretch on indefinitely, a precious pause before the whirlwind of daily demands.

The only sound intruding on this serene moment was the ticking of my Rolex watch and the distant hum of the city awakening, but it was a soft, unobtrusive sound that barely disturbed my tranquility. I took another sip of my coffee, savoring the warmth that contrasted with the cool air of the office.

Then, just as I began to sink deeper into my tranquil state, a sharp knock on my office door jolted me from my meditative moment. I glanced at the clock, irritation flaring. My twenty minutes of solitude were supposed to last for another eleven minutes. I prided myself on this time before eight o’clock—an unwritten rule in my office that everyone respected. Yet, someone was knocking persistently on the door.

I swung my chair around and glared at the door. “What?”

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, sir.” The muffled reply came from Olivia, my assistant and legal secretary. “It’s an emergency.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, annoyed. What kind of work emergency couldn’t wait another ten minutes? Though tempted to ignore her, Olivia had worked for me for more than two years and knew the rules well. She wouldn’t disturb me unless it was crucial.

“Sir?” she called out again.

I sighed, setting my coffee on my desk. The moment was ruined anyway. I picked up a remote and clicked a button. Artificial lights, too bright for my liking, filled the room. Another button closed the blinds.

“Come in,” I said gruffly.

The heavy door swung open, and she hurried in, clutching a clipboard against her chest. Her brown eyes darted nervously around, as if expecting to find some hidden horror. I could already feel a knot forming at the top of my spine, and the day hadn’t even begun yet. Today was going to be a long one.

“What is it?” I asked impatiently.

She extended the clipboard in my direction. “It’s John Robinson.”

“What about John Robinson? Is he alright?” I asked, feeling a twist in my stomach from the look on her face.

Had John been in an accident? My first thought was the hassle of managing the increased caseload if John was incapacitated.

She set the clipboard in front of me. “I think you should just look at this.”

I picked it up and flipped through the pages. As I skimmed through, a scowl formed on my forehead, progressively getting deeper. Familiar terms like terminating , contract of employment , and immediate effect stood out as though they were typed in bold.

“What is this?” My words came out as an angry growl, and I felt sorry that Olivia had to bear the brunt of it. It wasn’t her fault one of my top lawyers was quitting.

“He emailed it early this morning,” Olivia replied meekly. “I think he’s been hinting at it since last week.”

“What are you talking about? I can’t read hidden hints. Get me John’s number,” I ordered.

I meet with John several times a week, even yesterday, but he hadn't shown any signs of planning an impromptu exit. And I didn’t have time to figure out his motives. His actions, unprofessional as they stood, were my only concern. Right now, I have a mess to untangle.

“Promptly,” Olivia replied.

She turned to leave but stopped at the sharp click of heels announcing another presence. Leticia Griffin, one of my senior associates, walked in. It was still two minutes to eight. Leticia shouldn’t be in my office yet, either, but maybe she viewed the ajar door as an invitation to disregard my number one rule.

“What is this about John Robinson quitting?” Leticia asked, her voice shrill. “He left a note saying he won’t join the next staff meeting. Tell me this is a joke.”

Her tone betrayed the panic she was feeling. She held a note in her hand, crumpled now from her gripping it so tightly.

I ignored her question and turned to Olivia. “John’s phone number.”

Olivia scurried away, and Leticia took a seat opposite me.

“You could have just apologized,” Leticia said once we were alone.

“Apologize for what?” I frowned.

Then, I remembered my interaction with John two weeks ago. We’d disagreed at a staff meeting on a motion to be filed before the court, and I’d reminded him of his mistakes. He’d defended himself, saying I ran a tight ship and not everything had to be done my way. Although I owned the firm, I wasn’t a dictator. I wasn’t going to apologize for running the company the way that fit within law firm guidelines.

“I don’t owe John an apology,” I said with conviction.

Leticia cleared her throat. “I just meant that you shouldn’t have been so hard on him. Everyone knows John is sensitive.”

“You mean erratic . If John can’t handle being called out, he’s in the wrong profession.”

She remained silent.

“John started as a brilliant lawyer, but as time went by, he veered away from what we stood for in the firm,” I reminded her.

I suppose I should have seen this coming before now. John had grown increasingly hard to deal with. Well, if he wanted a different vision for practicing law, he should start his own law firm.

“Yes, but maybe you could have smoothed things over. Looking back, it would have been the appropriate action,” Leticia persisted. “What are we going to do? Everyone’s up to their necks in cases already. Now, we have to deal with his workload.”

I inhaled deeply, trying to order my thoughts. Of all the unprofessional things I’d witnessed in my lifetime, this was the most egregious. John had left the firm for a petty reason while still having active cases.

I felt heat rise up my neck and my heart beats increasing, but I needed to contain my frustrations.

“We need to hire a new lawyer fast,” Leticia said. “You have that Eucalyptia Pharmaceuticals case, and I’m swamped, too.” She cast a worried look at the stack of files on my desk.

“I’ll handle it,” I said flatly. It irked me that she felt the need to remind me. I knew better than anyone how busy everyone was.

“But—”

“It’s okay, Leticia. I said I'll handle this. Don’t worry about it.” I mainly said it to get her out of my office so I could think.

Leticia frowned but didn’t say anything more as she left.

My tension had bloomed into a full-blown headache. Not the way I’d planned to start my day. I hadn’t even finished my cup of coffee.

I took another sip and grimaced at the lukewarm taste.

I needed two things now: another cup of coffee and an excellent lawyer to fill in John’s spot.

Olivia hurried back a few minutes later, holding a small sticky note. “It’s John’s number.”

“I don't need that anymore,” I sighed. “I’m going to hire another attorney instead.”

Calling John to resume work immediately was a waste of time. He’d shown me just how loyal he really was. I didn’t want him back.

Once I had that sorted out, I would go through John Robinson’s contract with a fine-tooth comb and see if I could find any loopholes. Then, I would hit him with a hefty lawsuit. But for now, I needed to solve the mess he’d left behind.

The rest of the day didn’t improve. I had an out-of-office meeting that didn’t go as I planned. After lunch, Olivia set up an emergency meeting with the attorneys to troubleshoot the problems caused by John’s resignation. That didn’t end positively, either. By four o’clock, I’d had enough. I grabbed my briefcase and walked out of my office.

Olivia was typing at her desk. She looked up when the door shut behind me. “Yes, Mr. Waltons? Do you need anything?”

“No, just heading out.”

She noticed my briefcase then. “Oh, you’re leaving early?” Her tone was a mix of curiosity and mild astonishment.

“Is that really so shocking?”

“Yes, actually.” We both knew I was a workaholic. I was usually in my office until well after eight. She smiled. “I think it’ll be good for you to take some time for yourself. Have a great evening.”

“Yeah, you, too,” I replied, already heading for the elevator. I paused and looked back at her. “You can leave, too, if you want. It’s been a long day.”

Her eyes brightened. “Thank you, Mr. Waltons. I’ll finish a few things, and then I'll leave.” She continued her typing as I left.

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the underground parking garage below my apartment building. The low hum of the engine fading in the quiet of the concrete space. As the elevator went up, I made a mental list of things I could do with my free time—a tedious task. I rarely got home while the sun was still up, so I wanted to take full advantage of this opportunity. I would indulge in a takeout with a bottle of wine, while watching the sunset from my balcony.

My mind drifted to the last time I enjoyed that view. It was a Sunday afternoon with Reeva, my girlfriend. The memory brought a pang of discontent. Our conversations had felt stale, I was growing distant after just five months together. We were never on the same page. When I disagreed with her, she would coax me into agreeing rather than trying to understand my perspective. And after a while, it felt as if I was in a relationship alone. Reeva’s presence no longer matched what I sought in a partner.

I reached my front door, finding it already opened.

Why was my door already open? Even if I had forgotten to lock it this morning, it would’ve latched shut. Cautiously, I stepped inside the foyer, bracing myself for a possible intruder. The chill of the air conditioning mixed with the unexpected stillness made me shiver. I moved forward warily. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. Even Picasso’s Femme Assise still hung on the east wall.

Then, I saw a Versace suitcase propped up next to the sofa, and garment bags and handbags flung over the cushions. My free evening had turned into a different kind of problem.

“Wow, way to ruin the surprise,” a feminine Southern voice drawled.

I turned to see Reeva, my girlfriend, striking a magazine pose with her mouth painted in bold red lipstick. Her glittery top clung to her curves, tucked into skinny blue jeans, and her high heels matched her lipstick perfectly. A glass of red wine in hand, she watched me with a playful glint in her eye.

“What are you doing here, Reeva?” I couldn’t mask my irritation.

In the five months we’d been casually dating, I’d learned that Reeva thrived on surprises, especially those that involved using my name for access to exclusive events and charging things to my tab. Was this her new favorite hobby: showing up unannounced?

Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she took a slow sip from her glass before setting it on the table with deliberate grace. “Surprise, darling! I wanted to make our evening special. I know you’ve had a rough day, so I thought I’d come over and give you a little treat.”

She walked toward me, her hips swaying deliberately. Her palm glided up my chest, fingers curling around my loosened tie, and then her lips met mine.

But the familiar heat of desire that used to ignite between us when we started dating didn’t rise within me. That spark, the one that would have made me want to sweep her off her feet, twirl her around, and kiss her passionately as we stumbled and rolled down a grassy hill without breaking the kiss, was missing.

I gently pulled away.

“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” I asked, stepping back.

She grinned. “I’m not sure you understand the definition of a surprise.”

I glanced around and my gaze landed on the wine glass. “Don’t tell me that’s Domaine….” I recognized the rusty red tone.

How could she waltz into my home, help herself to a bottle of one of the most expensive wines? All she was doing was annoying me. I didn’t care about the wine; it was about her blatant disregard for my space.

“We’re celebrating,” she said, reclaiming the glass from the table and handing it to me. I automatically took it but put it back down. She reached for my tie again and started to undo it, I peeled her hands from it.

“Celebrating what?” I asked, feeling frustrated. It wasn’t our anniversary yet, her birthday was two months ago, and mine was still months away.

She shrugged, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. “Guess,” she simpered with a teasing grin.

I sighed, talking myself into being patient. After the stressful day I’d just had at work, a guessing game was the last thing I wanted to play.

My eyes fell on the suitcase and other items she brought behind her. “You’re going somewhere?”

“Nowhere, silly, try again.”

Reeva loved spontaneous trips with her girlfriends, often at my expense. I should have seen this coming.

“You’re going somewhere. I don’t know,” I insisted.

She scoffed and swatted my shoulder playfully. “We’ve been dating for months now. Don’t you think it’s time we took this to the next level?” Her tone was light, but there was an unmistakable hint of expectation in it.

It hit me then. “What?” I couldn’t keep the bark out of my tone. She took a step back then recovered quickly and took a sip from the glass of wine.

“I’ve been thinking—this place is so spacious, and it’s just the two of us. Why not make it even cozier?”

I gazed at her incredulously. “We never discussed moving in together.”

“We’ve been together for over five months now. Your place is big enough for the two of us.” She looked around and gave a short laugh. “Well, even ten of us could fit in here. But I don’t like to share.”

“Reeva, the size of my apartment is irrelevant.” My heart beats sped up, I needed to stay calm.

“I know, but now I’m suggesting I move in. Anton, I’m sure once you get used to the idea, you’ll see how wonderful it could be. Besides, you’ve always been so busy. Wouldn’t it be nice to come home to someone who truly understands you?”

She didn’t understand me at all, and action didn’t seem like a suggestion. It was a fait accompli . She came with her suitcase and all.

I loosened my tie the rest of the way, feeling like it was a noose. “Reeva, you’re not moving in with me,” I calmly said.

She moved closer, her voice dropping to a coaxing whisper. “Come on, babe, give it a chance. You won’t regret it. We can make this work together.”

Her words were smooth, but all I could think about was how her presence was ruining the quiet evening I’d been looking forward to. You really didn’t know someone until you’d walked—no—dated them.

How could I say what I wanted to say, as smoothly as possible? I didn’t plan on ending things tonight, but this was the last straw.

“I’m already here. My lease is up in a few weeks, so it’s the perfect time to move,” she said.

“Reeva, you’re not moving in with me,” I repeated, firming my stance.

“We’ll be happy together. Why are you being difficult?” She pouted, fluttered her lashes, and then wandered to the kitchen. “Come on, babe, get changed. I'll make dinner,” she crooned, further irritating me.

My patience snapped. “I don’t think you get it, Reeva. You’re not moving in with me. This relationship it’s over.”

Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly. She crossed her arms defensively, her stance rigid. “You can’t be serious! We've been dating for almost half a year now, but you’ll break up with me because I want to move in?” She said, trembling with a mix of frustration and hurt.

Suddenly I had enough. “Take your bags and leave. We’re done.” I walked into my bedroom to change.

I felt tired of these types of relationships. Perhaps I was growing a heart in my old age, if one could call soon to be thirty-four old . I should’ve ended things with her a long time ago, or better yet never started a relationship.

Thirty-four was approaching fast, each passing year adding another layer to the wall I’d built around my heart. My parents’ early difficult marriage, a battleground of unmet expectations and unspoken resentments, had long convinced me that commitment was a treacherous path I’d be best to avoid. The likes of Reeva with her demands, sense of entitlement, and blatant disregard for boundaries, only reinforce my conviction that a long-term relationship wasn’t for me.

When I came out in my gym clothes, Reeva hadn’t moved. Her gaze fixed on me with a mixture of defiance and desperation.

“Anton, there’s still time for you to take back your words, and I’ll forgive you.”

She really was entitled.

“Reeva, this breakup is something I’ve been thinking about for a while. It has nothing to do with you moving in. Let’s make it easier on both of us. I don’t want to see you here when I return,” I said calmly, put my jogging shoes on and opened the front door.

“Anton!” she gasped.

I had to leave. I walked out, closing the door behind me.

So much for a peaceful evening.