By a Thread: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy

Iwas blinking so rapidly, my eyelashes felt like hummingbird wings.

“Dominic sent Greta away?” I asked Nina, going for nonchalance.

“Would any of you lovely ladies like to try—”

“Not now, Carl!” I yelled at the approaching server with his tray of butterflied shrimp. The man ran off with his appetizers.

“Oh, yeah,” Nina said, waving a hand. “I heard it from a friend of a friend of a friend. Dominic personally arranged the vacation time with HR. He called Jasmine—the grumpy one with zero camera skills—at home at two a.m. on a Friday night and said he needed the deal done that weekend.”

“Technically she wasn’t at home. She was out clubbing with a super cute jazz singer she met on a pub crawl,” Missie chimed in.

“Wait a second. Grumpy HR Jasmine, the mid-sneeze immortalizer, goes clubbing with jazz singers?” I asked. “You know what? Never mind. Please continue.”

“Anyway, he said it was a thank you for putting up with his bullshit for so long. He paid out of pocket for her time off and her travel. Can you imagine?” Nina gushed.

“Two a.m. on a Friday?” I asked.

“What would he have been doing at that time of night that he decided he needed to send his assistant away for two months?” Gola asked.

“Maybe she witnessed him committing a murder,” I said nervously.

I knew exactly what he’d been doing that Friday night. It would have been about ten minutes after I stormed out of his townhouse in my fancy stripper clothes.

I needed another shot from potentially bisexual bartender guy.

By the next morning, I’d had the promotion and “signing bonus.” I knew he’d puppet-mastered me into it. I just hadn’t realized how diabolical he’d been. I thought he’d taken advantage of a situation, not manipulated his admin into a sixty-day paid vacation.

“Not to stir up the rumor mill, Ally,” Nina said, pulling me out of my bitter fugue state, “but I think he likes you. Like really likes you.”

“Or hates you,” Missie added. “We honestly can’t decide. We go back and forth about it. I personally hope he hates you because he’s saving all his love for me. But he looks at you like he wants to throttle you or throw you out of a moving vehicle or—”

“Fuck your brains out,” Nina filled in helpfully.

I choked on my own spit. “Guys, I’m not like sleeping my way to the top. I assure you. And Dominic has no interest in me whatsoever.”

“First of all, you’re no Malina. You wouldn’t bang your boss to get ahead. You’d bang him because he’s so hot I bet he can make scrambled eggs on his abs,” Gola insisted. “He’s said that though? About not being interested in you?”

I closed my eyes. “On multiple occasions.”

“He’s lying. He’s totally lying,” Ruth squealed.

“I’ve never seen a man look at a woman like that. Like he’s a kid looking in the window of a candy store and he’s deciding if he’s willing to break the glass to get to the candy and devour it,” Missie said, glassy-eyed.

“Well, that’s an uncomfortable description,” I said.

I felt a thrill of heat work its way down my spine.

“He’s looking at you right now,” Nina said without moving her lips, which made it all the more suspicious. Everyone but me whipped around to zero in on Dominic.

“Definitely wants to throw her off a roof.”

“After he gives her like ten orgasms.”

“Can I please be you when I grow up?” Missie whisper-sang.

“Why wouldn’t you two just get together?” Ruth asked, fanning herself with a cocktail napkin.

“Besides the fact that I’m not his type, he’s not my type, he’s not interested in me, and sleeping with coworkers is a bad idea?”

“Yeah. Besides all that,” Ruth said.

“His dad,” I said.

I faced four confused-looking women. “We’re not picking up what you’re putting down,” Gola said.

“He takes your inability to stare directly into his beauty and your mad escapes to the men’s room to mean you’re afraid of him. You know, like you think he’s another pervert.”

Their resounding chorus of “Are you fucking kidding me?” was instantaneous and loud enough that half of the room turned to see what all the fuss was about.

“Oh my God! Pull yourselves together,” I said, shushing them.

“You know. If we lowered some of the barriers, maybe he’d make his move on Ally?” Ruth said.

“Lowered barriers? Guys, I don’t think we should be conspiring against management.”

“We’re conspiring for him. Not against him,” Gola mused. “If Dominic understood that we thought he was a good boss, that we weren’t comparing him to his dad, maybe he’d break the glass and eat the candy.”

“No, no, no. Nope. Nope. Uh-uh. No one is conspiring against or for anything. No one is eating any candy.”

“Ally, you’re the kind of fairy tale we all need,” Nina insisted. “Poor country bumpkin—”

“Hey, I’m from Jersey, jerk.”

Nina waved me off. “Shh! I’m telling a story here. Poor Jersey bumpkin comes to the big city and catches the eye of the gorgeous, grumpy boss who refuses to fall for anyone. But there’s something special about her. Something he’s never seen before in a woman.”

“I want to be special,” Missie whined.

“You are special. We are all special,” I insisted.

I felt the frisson again. This time it started at my toes and spread through my entire body.

“He’s coming this way,” Missie sang.

“Be cool, guys. For the love of God, be cool,” I hissed.

“He’s practically pushing people out of the way,” Ruth observed.

I hoped to God she was exaggerating.

“Hey, beautiful. Feel like causing a stir?” Christian appeared at my side and gave me a heart attack.

I clutched my heart. “Jiminy Crickets! Where did you come from?”

“Uh, the bar.” He grinned at me and wiggled a rocks glass. “I have an idea. Come with me.”

He was safer than whatever torpedo of sexy was headed my way. I took the hand he offered and let him drag me away.

Five minutes later, an up-and-coming designer was on his knees in front of me backstage, and his hands were on my breast.

“Ouch. That’s boob,” I hissed. “Are you tattooing me?”

“Sorry,” Christian said, through the pins in his mouth. “Try to hold still, and I won’t stab you as much.”

“You know, usually I wait until at least dinner and drinks before I let a guy feel me up.”

“This is completely professional. I promise,” he insisted with a lecherous wink. “Not that you’re not built to perfection, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” I rolled my eyes.

“I just only have room for so many obsessions. I’ve got a limited amount of bandwidth. Right now, mine is this line. What’s yours?” He sat back on his heels and admired his handiwork.

“Oh, I don’t think you have the time. Besides, tonight’s your night.”

He picked up the top layer of my skirt and fluffed it. “You know what I see when there’s a pile of fabric in front of me and a beautiful woman?”

“I’m guessing not just a pile of fabric and a beautiful woman?”

He shot his pointer finger at me. “Bingo, smartass.”

I helped him to his feet.

“I see a story, and I try to tell that story with cut and color, thread and accessories.”

“I like that,” I mused into my now warm and mostly flat champagne. I’d clung to the idea of using it as a prop. Also I didn’t want to get shitfaced at a work function and throw myself at Dominic or throw him off a rooftop.

“Do you want to know what I see in you?”

“Definitely not.”

“I see sexiness. Struggle. Someone who isn’t living the life she set out to build,” he mused.

“Are you like one of those fortune tellers who spouts generic crap until they hit the mark?” I joked.

He grinned, then continued. “I see a woman who would do anything for the people who have earned her loyalty. Someone who’ll stand up for those who can’t. I see someone who is fighting tooth and nail for something… or someone.”

I frowned into my champagne.

“And I see that you have a very complicated relationship with Dominic Russo.”

“Oh, come on. Not you, too. Is it a full moon tonight? This entire city is obsessed with the guy.”

“From where I stand, the guy is obsessed with you,” Christian insisted.

“Okay, enough of this artistic babble. You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re amazing. Own it.”

“I can’t afford to own anything right now.”

“Then that’s where this dress comes in,” he said. “You’re stunning. And bold. And your boss is going to have a coronary in about half an hour.”

“I don’t care if Dominic ever looks at me again,” I lied. My neck immediately started itching.

Christian’s smirk told me he wasn’t buying it.

“I don’t,” I doubled down. “He had his chance, and I have too much self-respect. I just want to make him suffer. Like a lot. But not enough for me to lose my job. It’s a fine line to walk.”

He flashed those dimples at me. “Then let’s make the man suffer.”

“Are you sure this is okay? I’m a nobody in the fashion world, and I don’t look anything like the rest of these women.” I looked around at the models in the midst of hair and makeup and fittings. They were all half-naked and looked bored. Just another day at the office.

“That’s the point. Besides, I’ve never walked the end of a show with anyone. It’ll get the press talking. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I might wreck your entire show and ruin your launch, your career, and then your life. I’m not very lucky right now.”

“I’ll take my chances. Maybe you should take a couple of your own.”

God willing, in a few short months, the house would be sold, Dad’s bills would be covered, and I could afford to take a few chances. Maybe start a new life somewhere nowhere near Dominic Russo. Perhaps the West Coast. Or I don’t know, Thailand? Although, I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving my dad. Not now. Maybe I’d just vacation in Thailand?

Bottom line. A little fashion industry speculation would have zero effect on my life.

“Eh. It’s fine. Let’s go stir up some shit,” I decided.

“Good. It’ll be fun,” he promised.