Arrogant Boss

I want you to know that I’m not going to hold you to anything you said on Saturday evening. I want you sober and sane when you finally admit that we’re perfect together.

I looked up at him, his eyes glittering with humor and sincerity. “Okay,” I murmured.

His hand traced a line across his leg, nearing where mine was resting. “Just okay?”

“No. It’s great. I’m-”

“Julian, do you know-. Oh, sorry. Were you going through the agenda?” Rachel leaned across the aisle, her expression focused.

“Yes,” Julian responded smoothly. “But I think we have it under control. What’s up?”

I exhaled shakily and opened my own laptop. A narrow escape, sure, but I knew I was in deep, deep trouble.

I was developing feelings for Julian freaking Hunt.

Imagine if Disneyland had been designed by the editorial staff of the magazine Forbes, and sponsored by the founder of a massive social media company.

Can you picture it?

Neither could I until I was standing wide-eyed inside the LA Tech and Industry Conference. It was a mixture of people, gadgets, and oddly enough-an inflatable bouncy castle. At one stand, a man was projected into a scarily realistic hologram ten feet away. Drones whirred above us.

“Soak it in,” Rachel said to my right. “This is nerd paradise. Keep a steady hand on your phone, or someone might take it.”

“There are pick-pockets here?”

“No, I mean someone will offer to reprogram your software and give it back to you with fourteen new apps, all in the beta stage. Just hold on to it.”

I padded my phone through the pocket of my grey blazer. I’ll protect you, little one. “Thanks.”

Rachel handed me a badge with my name and the logo of Hunt Industries on it. “This is your lifeline. It gets you in everywhere you need to go.”

Josef put down the heavy bag with camera equipment next to us and quirked an eyebrow. “She’s right. I’ve been told there’s even a black market for them, for people who didn’t manage to get access to this place.”

“What a great business idea.”

“I know right?! You could probably get a couple of hundred bucks for it.”

“And your severance check,” Rachel said dryly. She was eyeing a map of the hall and the connecting buildings. “We’re setting up shop in studio eighteen. Come on, you two. Let’s head over there before we have to meet Julian for his first interview.”

“The man is a machine,” Josef grumbled, bending to pick up the camera bag again. I could only agree. I’d seen Julian’s schedule for the conference, and if I’d been anxious about my own, it was absolutely nothing compared to his. For a solid hour today, he had ten-minute interviews scheduled back-to-back with various tech magazines. During these two days, he was the face of the brand, and the world was watching.

By lunch, my feet ached.

By afternoon, my head had joined the chorus too. I had shaken so many hands, each person I met more smiley than the next, that I probably ought to douse my hands in sanitizer.

“You work for Hunt Industries? That’s amazing!” was the standard response.

Somehow, the name seemed to unlock something-a gleam in their eyes. Sure, I’d known how big Hunt was when I took the job, but it was something else entirely to see people’s perception of me change with the statement. Julian’s reputation certainly preceded him. I was handed twelve resumes-I counted them-all of which I politely slipped into my purse and said I’d pass on to HR.

Rachel and I were texting every five minutes.

Are you setting up for the interview with B. H. Wells?NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

Yes, questions read through and approved. Are you almost done with the press conference?

Yes, heading your way now. Should be in studio nine in a minute.

I had laughingly suggested that we should have brought walkie-talkies, but it was the truth.

Astonishingly, Julian looked just as put-together and devilishly handsome as he had on the flight in the early morning hours. He’d changed from his chinos and blazer into a fitted dark suit, sans tie, and his hair was neatly combed back. He seemed to be wearing all of his titles at once-bad boy billionaire, playboy philanthropist, Ivy League graduate, CEO and a world player on the tech scene. The faint trace of a smile never left his lips, as if he was ready to break out into it’s-nice-to-see-you-again at any given moment.

And why hadn’t he run for President yet? Who knew? I didn’t doubt that he’d win that too if he put his magnificent mind to it.

Rachel or I spent a not insignificant portion of the day just escorting him back and forth between interviews. We were his armor-the bulletproof vest.

Someone came up to talk to him-Sorry, Mr. Hunt doesn’t have time right now.

The interview ran over time-We’re going to have to cut it there. Mr. Hunt has a busy schedule.

We played bad cop so he could flash an apologetic smile and without offending anyone. Yeah, he could’ve run for President.

I remarked as much when we were waiting back-stage for a panel he was participating in. How tech is both a disruptive and creative force. It would be live streamed, and Julian would be joined by several other creators and moguls. His name was the listed first on the prospectus.

“Politics? No, I’d be a terrible politician.”

I shook my head and peeked around the curtain. The assembled crowd was massive. “That’s a shame. You’d gain a lot of support, no doubt.” All women eligible to vote, no doubt.

Julian pulled me back, an arm around my waist. “How does it look out there?”

“Good. A lot of people.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “It’s a good thing I don’t have stage fright.”

I would rather have walked naked into a beehive than do what he was about to do, but I kept that to myself. “And you’re all set? Have everything you need?”

Julian ignored my questions altogether. His lips curled into that crooked smile that meant he was about to say something outrageous.

“How many times have you been asked out today?”

“What?””This place has a 9-1 distribution of men to women. Half of them have most likely never seen a beautiful woman before. And a woman like you?” He ran a strand of my hair between two fingers, eyes warm. “You could walk out of here leading the pack.”

I swallowed. “Three times.”

“I’m not surprised.”

There was no reason to elaborate, nothing to be defensive about, but my voice was breathy when I added: “I turned them all down.”

Julian’s eyes darkened. His hand reached down and clasped the badge hanging around my neck. “I like that my name is on this.”