Teaching The Boss
By: Mallory Crowe“April,” he said softly.
She looked up at him and held her arms up in surrender. “What? What do you want from me? You want me gone and I’m leaving.”
The doors slid shut behind him and she was confronted with the fact she was stuck alone with Sam for a fifty-floor descent.
Her arms fell limply to the side and she lowered her gaze. There was nowhere else to look, so she focused on the third button down on his white dress shirt.
One floor down. Two. Just forty-eight more to go.
The button moved closer. “I don’t want you to go.”
Why did he still want to talk about this? “Well, you should’ve thought about that before—”
He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. She gasped in shock, but then his mouth covered hers and everything else seemed to fade away. All of her disappointment and hurt and rage bubbled into the kiss, and instead of pushing him away, she pulled him closer.
He angled his head for better access as her fingers curled in his collar. She wasn’t gentle or soft. She pressed her lips into his, not forgiving him even as she allowed his hands to roam over her back, her rear.
His fingers gripped her thighs; he leaned forward, crushed her against the wall and leaned his full weight against her. His muscled body against her softer curves. She groaned at the contrast and ran her tongue over his lips.
It was his turn to groan as his fingers found the hem of her skirt and moved up, skimmed along her bare thigh.
Ding.
The elevator doors opened to reveal the deserted lobby of the office building, but neither of them moved. They remained intertwined, both gasping for air. The doors closed and April finally managed to remove her hands from his collar. They slid over his shoulders to his chest. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to savor the feel of his heart pumping through his shirt. Savored the notion that his world was as off-kilter from the kiss as hers was. And then she pushed him away.
“April,” he whispered again.
She picked up the purse she’d dropped and hit the button to open the doors. “You’ve upset me so many times in the past six years, Sam.” The doors slid apart and she looked over her shoulder at him, not even caring about the streaks of tears that streamed down her cheeks. “But I’ve never hated you like I do right now. Don’t call me. Don’t email me. I just want you out of my life.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but April was gone before any sound emerged.
April stumbled out of bed and blinked at the bright light that streamed through the windows. What time was it? Didn’t matter. She was unemployed now.
Well, it was Saturday, so it didn’t matter anyway, but her mind was still stuck on the idea of being unemployed. She hadn’t been on the job hunt in ages. Interviewing trends had probably changed a lot in the last decade.
Of course, by now she’d replayed the previous night in her mind thousands of times. In hindsight, she could’ve reacted better. If she’d given him a chance to fire her, she might’ve actually gotten severance pay.
He hadn’t actually fired her. But he told Oksana he would. Well, he didn’t say he wasn’t going to fire her. How on earth had Oksana built up so much hatred toward April in five days?
The sudden buzzing of her intercom pulled her from her thoughts. Was that Sam? Her heart leapt at the thought of him begging for forgiveness. Offering her a raise and extra perks if she would come back.
As much as she liked the idea of Sam groveling at her feet, she sobered as she remembered the still fresh wound of his betrayal. Even if he offered her a way to stay in the city she loved and work at a company she’d put so much time into, how could she forgive him that quickly?
It might not even be Sam at the door. Knowing her luck at the moment, it was some delivery or salesperson who hit every button just to get inside.
April smacked her hand over her intercom speaker button. “What?” she asked, her tone as unenthusiastic as she felt.
“Ms. Morgan?”
April’s heart sunk. The voice was deep and male, but definitely not Sam. “This is her.”
“I was hoping we could have a word. If you prefer, we can go out to lunch.”
April cast a dubious glance at the window. Could it really be lunchtime already? No matter what time it was, her eyes were red from crying and her face was smeared with yesterday’s makeup. It would take her at least a half hour to get presentable. “Who is this?”
