By a Thread: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy

It was not a good day. I spent the entire night haunted by Ally’s tearstained face, the hurt in those soft brown eyes, the shake in her hands.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this.”

In the light of ugly gray morning, I wasn’t feeling as self-righteous or confident in my decision to protect myself.

My desk phone rang.

“What?”

“What did you do to Ally?” my mother demanded in my ear.

I’d arrived at work only to find my assistant had called in sick and someone had waved a magic wand taking me from Dominic back to Mr. Russo.

“Good morning, Mother. I’m fine. How are you?”

“I’m not happy.”

“Everything is fine. Consider it business as usual.”

“Ally sent me her resignation this morning, effective immediately.”

“Maybe she was just tired of working here,” I said wearily. She didn’t really need this job anymore. Not with the house ready to be put on the market.

“What did you do, Dominic Michael?”

“What makes you think it was me?”

“Because I know you. I know your baggage.”

“Where do you think that baggage came from?” I asked uncharitably.

“Darling, you’re forty-five years old. That excuse stopped working sometime in your early twenties when you became an adult responsible for your own choices.”

The woman had a point. An annoying, infinitesimal one.

“It was a private matter. I didn’t ask her to quit. I would have been willing to continue working together.”

“Dominic, I say this with love. You’re being an unconscionable fool.” She disconnected with a sharp click.

It was official. Every woman in the building, including my own mother, hated my guts.

Nina from advertising had to be physically restrained in the elevator this morning. I got off on the thirty-third floor and took the stairs only to walk straight into Missie the copywriter who took one look at me and burst into tears.

I took my lunch in the cafeteria, and hoards of people turned their backs on me as I walked past their tables. Linus returned my “good afternoon” with a roll of his eyes and a middle finger. Even Buddy couldn’t look me in the eye. Buddy. The nicest human being in the world thought I was Satan. He’d picked up his brown bag lunch the second I pulled out a chair at his table. “Have a nice day,” he whispered as he left.

It was time things were back to normal. Normal was familiar. Comfortable.

I was single again.

My home was my own again.

And I could go back to business as usual.

I stabbed my chicken with a violent jab of the fork and grimly ate my lunch alone.

Christian James, the cocky son of a bitch, strutted into my office like a rooster. Or a peacock. Whichever fowl was more annoying.

He tossed a dark brown garment bag over the back of my visitor’s chair.

“The only reason I’m giving this to you is because it’ll make you feel like shit,” he announced.

“I doubt there’s anything you could do that would make me feel anything,” I said, ignoring him and returning to the stupid fucking article that I couldn’t focus on writing because everything in the world was wrong.

“Big man hiding behind his desk. I guess you’re braver when you’re yelling accusations at a woman half your size,” he snapped.

“Be very careful, James,” I enunciated coldly, forgetting about the document on my monitor.

His laugh was cold, mirthless. “You never deserved her.”

“I’d like to remind you that Label and the Russo family have been one of your most generous backers. That backing can easily be taken away.”

If I’d expected him to back down and apologize, I was mistaken.

“Fuck you, man. That’s your problem. You think everyone is out to use you, to get something out of you. Did it ever occur to you that Ally loved you?”

Loved.

Loved.

Loved.

My heart echoed the word sluggishly.

“Some people are incapable of love.” I was a blasé motherfucker.

“Yeah, and I’m looking at one of them. I can’t believe she cared about you. You really had her fooled, you know? You’re a fucking emotionless iceberg.”

“And you’re the guy who fucked my girlfriend. Congratulations to you both.”

“Stand the fuck up.”

I put my reading glasses back on and went back to looking at my monitor. “Get out of my office, James. I have real work to do.”

“Stand up and make me.”

I had a good thirty pounds on the man. But he was ten years younger. I wasn’t certain he couldn’t beat me to a pulp.

“It was a trade, by the way. I made her what’s in the bag, and she did a little promotion for me. There was no sex, and you’re the dumbest motherfucker on the planet if you believe that she’d do that to you. I don’t know if you’re deflecting your own sins or what—”

“I never so much as looked at another woman,” I growled, yanking off my glasses. This idiot needed to leave my office. Immediately.

“Oh, does it piss you off when someone accuses you of something you didn’t do?”

“Fuck off, James. I’m losing my patience.”

“You’ve lost your damn mind. She’s a great girl, and I’m going to do everything I can to convince her to run in the other direction when you realize what a huge mistake you made and try to crawl back.”

“In the meantime, you can talk her into your own bed,” I said flippantly.

“Okay. My turn!” Faith, Ally’s friend, stormed into my office. She wore hot pink leather leggings and some kind of wooly, white crop sweater. Her hair was pulled up on top of her head in one sleek ponytail.

“I’ve got this, babe,” Christian said, instantly softening.

Faith paused to cup the man’s face in her hand. “I don’t want you to break your gorgeous, talented hands on this steaming piece of shit’s face.”

“Can I help you?” I asked dryly.

She glared at me and casually strolled around my desk. I turned my chair to meet her but refused to stand.

She gave me a terrifying smile and cracked me right across the face with her open palm. Ally didn’t bitch-slap, but Faith did it like it was an Olympic sport and she was a gold medalist.

My ear rang like a school bell.

“You hurt my friend, and I want to murder you for it. I want to reach into your chest, rip your pathetic excuse of a heart out, and drop-kick it across the Hudson, you stupid son of a bitch. I don’t care what baggage you come with. That’s no excuse for treating one of the nicest, most beautiful souls in the world like garbage,” she hissed in my face.

“Okay, babe. Let’s get you out of here before this coward calls security,” Christian said, towing Faith away from me.

“I’ll meet you out front,” she said, stopping to kiss the man hard on the mouth and then give me the most violent middle finger I’d ever received on her way out.

Christian watched her go with the eyes of a man half in love.

Fuck.

I’d forgotten what Ally had said at my birthday party.

Invisible knives inserted themselves into my gut.

“Well, it’s been fun. I hope you’re real happy with yourself, man,” he said, turning his attention back to me.

“It’s been delightful,” I snarled.

“Everyone has baggage, Russo. Most of us are just smart enough not to hurl full-sized suitcases at the people we love.” He patted the garment bag. “Here’s your custom fucking vest Ally asked me to make for you. Hope it doesn’t even come close to making up for losing the girl.”

My world was starting to close in on me. The walls of my office loomed closer and closer. Had I really thrown away something real, or was I justified in my distrust?

She wasn’t Elena. She hated artifice. Ally taught women to dance and love their bodies. She created beauty with color and design. She inspired kindness and generosity in everyone—myself included. She put her entire life on hold to clean up someone else’s mess.

And I wasn’t my father.

No, I chose to hurt people in other ways.

The realization was crashing over me like a brick wall when a new email popped into my box. Ally Morales.

I clicked it before I was even conscious of grabbing the mouse.

Subject: Itemized remittance sheet.

The message itself was blank. But attached was a spreadsheet with estimates of food, utilities, gas, the storage unit I’d rented for her father’s furniture, and the entire renovation bill from her father’s house. There was a notation at the bottom. First payment $50.

Because she no longer had a job thanks to me. She had nothing until the house went on the market and sold. Even then, the money went to the nursing home.

I swore under my breath. I was an asshole. Lower than low. Ally Morales was worse off having met me.

I jumped up, intending to get my coat. I’d made a very big mistake, and I wasn’t sure I could live with myself now.

There was another knock at my door.

“Go away,” I snarled.

But the knocker was either feeling brave, or they’d underestimated how much I wanted to punch someone.

Malina the Maneater stepped into my office.

“Not now, Malina,” I snapped. I didn’t have time to fend off another one of my father’s ex-lovers.

“This is important,” she said.

I doubted that very much. But when I looked at her, really looked at her, I realized there was something off. For one, she was wearing jeans. For two, she didn’t have any makeup on. She looked softer, younger, less angry.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Well, first of all. I quit.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Just go with it. It’s this whole full-circle moment for me. I turned down the job your father offered me at Indulgence this morning.”

That caught my interest.

“He offered you a job, you turned it down, and now you’re quitting this job?”

She nodded. “It’s been brought to my attention that I don’t have the healthiest priorities.” She cleared her throat. “I’m leaving New York. But I wanted you to know some things first. Things I’m not proud of.”

I closed my eyes. “Malina, you don’t need to walk me through your personal life. I know you and my father were… involved.”

“It’s not that. Or only that. I fed him information after he left. Things about Label and…” Her gaze shifted to the ceiling. “About your mother.”

I doubted there was much about my mother that an admin could uncover that my father wouldn’t have already known.

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“I wasn’t the only one still friendly with him,” she said.

“Who else?” I asked.

“Irvin. We had a few dinners, the three of us. Your father promised him managing editor at Indulgence.”

“Also, Irvin wasn’t dipping his pen in the company ink, if you know what I mean. But that doesn’t mean he was innocent.”

“What are you saying, Malina?”

She looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell,” she said finally.

Exasperation was my new permanent company. “Whose story is it?” I asked.

“Start with Gola and Shayla,” she suggested. “And talk to your mother. Tell her Paul knows, and he’s going to use it against her.”