By a Thread: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy

That afternoon, while Linus was out doing whatever Linus did, I was summoned for a meeting with the graphics team. I arrived early and was surprised to find coffee, tea, and muffins already neatly arranged on the impossibly hip glass conference table.

I was just reaching for a chocolate chip muffin when the door opened behind me and Dominic strolled into the room.

“Hi,” I said, guiltily dropping the muffin.

After our bar shift confessional, I wasn’t really sure where we stood.

“I heard you were late today,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Another emergency.”

“This one was a good one,” I said. “Something I didn’t want to miss out on.”

He studied me silently, and I realized how that must have sounded. His thumb was tapping against his pant leg. A tiny little tick.

“I take my job seriously, Dom. Don’t think that I was blowing off work for something frivolous.”

“It must have been good for you to give up two hours of pay.”

My spine stiffened, and my shoulders ratcheted up under my ears.

“Why don’t you tell me what your problem is instead of beating around the bush, Charming?”

“I want to know what’s going on.”

“It’s none of your business,” I told him. “We’re not friends. We’re not lovers. I work for you. The only relationship that exists between us is a professional one. We both made the call, remember?”

“You missed work. I was concerned.”

“Why? Lots of people miss work. I’m going to make up the hours.”

“What do you want me to say, Ally? That I care?”

I shook my head vehemently. I most definitely did not want him to say that. And I certainly didn’t want him to mean it. “I don’t want to play games. Not today and certainly not with you.”

“Then tell me what’s going on.”

“Why do you even care? I’m not some mystery to be solved. I’m a private person with a lot of shit happening right now that doesn’t affect you.”

“It does affect me when it keeps you from showing up for work.” Frustration crackled off him like he was holding a live wire.

“This conversation is ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he shot back.

“I’m not sharing my personal life with you,” I told him. “Don’t take it personally. I have things going on that are easier to deal with than to talk about. And if you recall our conversation last night, we aren’t going to pursue any kind of relationship outside of work.”

“We’re at work right now,” he stubbornly pointed out, crossing his arms.

“Malina missed half a day this week,” I said. “Did you track her down to find out why?”

“Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t care about her,” he shot back.

We both sat with that pronouncement for a minute.

“Dom,” I started.

“Shut up. Forget it. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Oh, good. Mr. Darcy’s back,” I said dryly.

“What does that even mean?”

“Ugh. Another reason why I’d never let you get me naked. You haven’t read or watched Pride and Prejudice.”

Dominic collapsed in a chair across the table from me. Even with the entire expanse of glass and a mound of muffins between us, I could still feel his frustration.

“You annoy me on so many levels, it’s incredible. What could Pride and Prejudice possibly have to do with us not pursuing whatever the hell this is?”

I sat opposite him. “Mr. Darcy pronounces his love for Elizabeth with an insulting speech about how he’s into her even though she’s incredibly unsuitable, poor, and ridiculous.”

“I am not pronouncing my love for you,” he said crisply.

“Did I not warn you that I’m irresistible?” I quipped.

He looked so angry I was worried he might rip the arms off his chair. I took pity on him.

“Look, Dom. Since we’re not pursuing anything—naked or otherwise—outside this building, I think it’s best that we know as little about each other as possible.”

He glared at me. “I disagree.”

Of course he did.

“Okay. Why?”

“We’re complete opposites. Wouldn’t it follow that the better we get to know each other, the less we would be attracted to each other?”

It was stupid and yet… “Hmm.”

“I thrive on challenges, Ally,” he warned. “And right now, you and this mysterious background are demanding to be solved.”

“What are you suggesting?” I asked with a laugh. “We become friends?”

“Not friends,” he insisted. “Workplace acquaintances.”

“That’s what we are.”

“No, we’re workplace associates,” he insisted.

“Are you drunk? Do you have a family history of stroke?”

“No and no,” he said. “Think about it. The more you get to know me, the less attractive you’ll find me, and the better I know you, the more repulsive you’ll be.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. Every once in a while, Funny Dominic snuck up on me to surprise and delight me. Thankfully the other ninety-eight percent of the time he was an insufferable ass.

“Please. We both know the more you learn about me, the faster you’ll be scampering off to pick out a diamond engagement ring big enough to lose an eye on.”

He rolled his eyes. “You wish.”

“I am a delightful person,” I insisted.

“You’re a delightful pain in my ass,” he shot back.

I drummed my fingers on the table in front of me. “Are you purposely keeping the table between us?”

“Yes,” he answered instantly.

“Is it for my protection or yours?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“You’re acting like neither one of us has any control,” I scoffed.

He scowled at me, then stood.

“What are you doing?” I asked as he rounded the table.

“Proving a point.”

Hastily, I got to my feet, but I didn’t get far because he was boxing me in against the table. So careful not to touch me. Yet there was no mistaking the buzz between us. My blood went hot, and I could hear my heartbeat ratcheting up the DEFCONs.

“Is DEFCON One or Five worse?” I asked in a squeak.

“One. Now tell me you don’t see the problem, Ally,” he said dryly.

I was more interested in feeling the problem… until I glanced down. I couldn’t help myself. He was visibly hard. Like “stuck a kielbasa in his pants” visibly hard.

He was looking down too. But not at the outline of his cock. No, his gaze was locked on my stupid, lack-of-self-respect nipples that were saluting him through my shirt.

The door was closed, but the graphics team was due any minute. Anyone could walk in and see us like this.

“This is the problem,” he insisted, his voice a rasp.

“That’s a huge problem,” I agreed, still looking at his erection. “It looks painful.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he growled. “This is what happens when we’re too close.”

“So how do you propose we get to know each other without getting too close?” I asked. I sounded like I’d just climbed all forty-three floors at a dead run. One tiny step forward and my diamond hard nipples would connect with his chest. His hard-on with my stomach.

He was looming over me, but rather than threatening, it felt intimate, careful, almost safe. Like I wanted to be exactly here with exactly him.

I really needed to stop consuming dairy products. This had to be some kind of hormonal effect from too much glorious cheese.

I had a swift vision of Dom placing me on the—hopefully reinforced—glass table at my back and sliding his hands under my skirt and slowly, slowly, peeling the underwear down my legs.

My vision started to go gray around the edges, and I took in a shaky breath. His eyes sharpened to a crystalline, icy blue. It felt as though a storm was brewing in the sliver of space between us.

“Completely inappropriate question,” I said. “If you were going to touch me right now, where would you start?”

His exhale was a growl. “Your hair.”

I blinked. “My hair?”

“I’d fist my fingers in it and pull so I could taste your mouth and then work my way down your throat.”

“Gah.” It wasn’t a statement so much as a swallow getting tangled up with a moan.

“And this is exactly why we’re not going to do this in person,” he said softly.

“Gah,” I croaked again.

His lips, that firm, mean line of them, lifted just a little, and I felt an explosion of dairy hormones in my core.

“Fine. Email then,” I squeaked.

“On personal time from personal email accounts,” he said.

The guy had given this a lot of thought.

“That’s fair.”

“Be honest. Brutally honest,” Dominic said. “So we can get this—whatever it is—out of our systems.”

I wanted to be offended by the idea that getting to know me would be a major turnoff to him. However, I was damn certain the more I knew about Dominic Russo, the less my lady parts would lust after him. What could possibly go wrong?

“Agreed.”

He lifted a hand away from the table, and we both watched as it slowly moved toward my face, my hair.

Goddesses of secret lusty meetings, please let Dominic Russo fuck me on this conference table right now.

“Grab me a water, would you?” someone called outside the door. We jumped apart.

I shoved Dominic—and his magnificent fuck stick—into the chair I’d recently occupied before my sexual spiritual awakening and took a guilty step back.

The door opened.

“I don’t care what you say. The Game of Thrones final season was not what fans were expecting,” I announced emphatically.

He looked at me like I’d lost my damn mind.

“Oh, wow. I gotta agree with Ally, Mr. Russo,” Shelly, a graphic designer with a penchant for facial piercings, agreed emphatically.

As the rest of the team filed in, a ten-minute discussion of the show and final season ensued while Dominic and I both tried to get our hormones under control.