Chapter 27
Vivi stared at her laptop, sipping her fourth cup of coffee like it was a life-support system. She wanted to punch that smug, I'm-the-genius-here grin right off her boss's face but didn't want to break her screen.
"Congratulations are in order for you and your incredible teamwork," Peter said cheerfully, as if he'd been a part of the recent success and not just very good at standing near it. "Landing Jessica Stone? Incredible. Really shows the leadership that have been fostered around here."
Her fingers twitched over the keyboard.
Leadership that had been fostered? She nearly screamed.
Vivi inhaled, trying to keep her coffee from turning into a projectile. "Uh, thanks, Peter," she said carefully.
"Absolutely," he continued, leaning back like he owned the whole damn internet. "And of course, this has been a real coup for us. My vision, my strategy, your execution. Jessica was thrilled when I reached out personally."
She could feel her pulse in her temples. She'd spent months nurturing the connection with Jessica Stone, crafting the pitch, making sure the timing was perfect. Every email, every phone call, every subtly persuasive move? That had been her.
"Wow," she said slowly, letting the words drip with fake awe. "I guess it's really paying off … that celebrity pipeline you envisioned. Who knew one client could lead to a whole string of them?"
Peter smiled, clearly drinking in the praise. "Exactly. That's why having someone like me steering the ship is invaluable. Couldn't have done it without you, of course."
"Of course," she said, forcing cheer into her voice. "Your guidance really made all the difference."
He nodded satisfied and launched into a monologue about future prospects, marketing strategies, and how his networking had paved the way.
Vivi quietly muted her mic and stared at the ceiling.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
By the time he paused for breath, she'd counted eleven blatant examples of him taking credit for her work.
She unmuted herself. "Peter, I was thinking that maybe for the next celebrity campaign I could manage the outreach entirely. That way we both get to shine?"
His eyebrows lifted. "Oh? I like the initiative. Go on."
"I'd take full ownership this time. I’ll handle the emails, the profiles, and the follow-ups personally.
Someone has to make sure the celebrity pipeline keeps flowing smoothly.
And with my connections from my VIP hostess days, which is how I brought in Jessica, I think I can really make this happen. "
"Smart. Very smart. But I'd like to be CCed on everything. You report to me and I'll report to Nathan."
Which meant he was going to take all the credit again.
"Actually, I'd feel more comfortable CCing you and Nathan both."
Peter's brow furrowed. "I don't know. There's a hierarchy for a reason."
"But," Vivi cut in, "without me, there isn't a department to run."
"Hierarchy, remember?"
"Can we add Nathan to the call and get his take?" Vivi asked, going for bold.
"He's in Boston for the week. How about when he gets back? And if this goes well, maybe we can talk about you running the new celebrity line."
"Really?"
"I'll put in a good word."
"Thanks—"
But Peter was already gone.
She slammed her laptop shut and opened her phone. "Hey, Glow. What's today's glow-up exercise?"
"Today's glow-up exercise is to walk in someone else's shoes. Literally. Walk up to someone you admire, put on their shoes, and go for a stroll," the chipper voice said.
Vivi ran out of the kitchen and into the office, where she found Boone leaning over paperwork at the desk.
He looked handsome in a way that made her inner monologue trail off mid-sentence and her body go absolutely haywire. The reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose only made it worse because he looked impressively controlled, with a quiet intensity that made her heart kick sideways.
His shirt, soft blue cotton, clung to his massive shoulders and chiseled chest she now had and up-close-and-personal knowledge of.
The sleeves pulled tight across his biceps in a way that made her palms itch.
And the way he looked at her over the rims of those glasses?
Heat simmering just below the surface like a banked fire that knew exactly how long it could wait.
Her stomach did something structurally unsound and she was fairly certain her lady parts accepted whatever invitation those eyes were offering.
"Give me your boots," she said.
"What?"
"Your boots. Hand them over."
"Can I ask why?"
She snapped her fingers. "You can ask while you're doing it."
He held her gaze for one beat, then reached down and pulled them off, revealing the ridiculous little cows stitched into his socks.
"Cows?" she asked, laughter threatening.
"You want the boots or not?"
"Fine." She wiggled her fingers and he handed them over one at a time, unhurried, the brush of his fingers against hers entirely deliberate.
"My boss just took credit for a project I've been working on for months," she said. "And I let him."
"Why?"
She threw her hands in the air. "Because I am a professional doormat."
"Not with me." His tone was low and just possessive enough to make her legs quiver.
"I know. Which I find refreshing."
"I don't," he muttered—but the look in his eyes said otherwise. He liked her fire and had absolutely no intention of admitting it.
"I asked my life coach for help. " She held the boots. "She said I needed to walk in someone else's shoes. Hence your boots."
She kicked off her sneakers and slid her feet into his massive shitkickers, wiggling her toes, then started pacing back and forth. The too-big boots clomped and slipped with every step, making her feel taller, stronger, and a hell of a lot bolder.
"Is it working?" he asked, and she could tell he was fighting amusement.
"I feel taller."
A small smirk tugged at his mouth. "That's the heel talking."
"I think it's the owner."
Something flickered behind his eyes. "What does that mean?"
"You don't take crap from anyone. You'd never let someone walk all over you or steal credit for your work." She kept pacing. "I'm a professional people-pleaser. I once broke up with a guy I loved because I knew my best friend loved him."
He looked at her like she couldn't possibly be serious.
"I know. I did it because it made them happy.
" She shrugged like it was nothing, though her voice wavered slightly.
"I got it from my mom. I watched her shift into someone else entirely to please my dad.
His hobbies became hers. His favorite food became hers.
He liked golf, she subscribed to the Golf Channel.
Then when they divorced, she didn't even know how she liked her eggs.
" She paused. "I was the same thing with Lewis.
That's why I came here. To figure out who I am without someone else's hands on the steering wheel.
I almost walked away from my job and a life I love because Lewis made a singular decision without consulting me. "
"Lewis sounds like a prick." The words came out flat and certain, with an almost protective edge that she’d never heard before with regards to her.
She didn't usually like possessive men, but Boone wore it differently. Like it wasn't about ownership, it was about offense on her behalf.
"I understand what it feels like to have someone make decisions that affect your life without taking your feelings into account,” he said. “Five months after my parents died my ex relocated to Atlanta. Said I wasn't moving on fast enough."
"That's awful. Who does that to someone they claim to love? She sounds selfish."
The second selfish left her mouth, Vivi felt it ricochet straight back into her own chest.
She'd spent her entire adult life folding herself into origami shapes to avoid ever being accused of that word. Let bosses walk over her, friends dictate her choices, boyfriends steer her life like she was a passenger in her own damn car.
Selfish. She'd never even tried the word on for size.
But looking at Boone, a steady, quietly hurting man who'd been abandoned right when he needed someone most, something sharp and protective rose up in her. Something that wanted to bare teeth on his behalf. It was startling her because that kind of reaction wasn't her.
Or maybe it was and she'd just never let herself feel it before.
The worst part? The part she absolutely would not examine right now, while standing in his giant boots with his stupidly sweet cow socks staring up at her?
Defending him felt like the kind of good that came with consequences.
"Seems the boots are working," he said, a quiet smirk returning. "You want to do something bold?"
"Bold?" the word was more like a squeak.
"Yeah." His eyes were all challenge. "Something dangerously bold."
"Like what?"
"Call your boss back and tell him where he can shove it.”
Standing tall in his boots, Vivi took one decisive step toward him, the soles clomping against the floor with purpose. "I'd rather do this."
He looked at her the way he had in the doorway that first morning—half shock, half you wouldn't dare.
Then she dared and grabbed the front of his shirt, hauled herself up on her toes, and kissed him—quick, hot and reckless—with a confidence she absolutely had not possessed ten minutes ago.
Boone went still for one stunned heartbeat. Then a rough sound escaped him and his hands locked around her hips and pulled her in—unhurried like a man who'd been waiting for exactly this all day.
When she finally pulled back, she whispered, "Better than yelling at my boss."
"Next time, warn a man."