Page 14 of Lying to the Boss

“Let me buy you lunch today,” I offer when I realize I don’t have plans with a client.

“No, thank you,” he responds, keeping his eyes on the iPad.

“But I insist.”

He flicks his gaze up at me, a bored expression on his face. “I brought lunch. Same as every other day I’ve been here.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

He drops his hands into his lap, holding onto the iPad for dear life.

“Are you mad that I bring my lunch from home?” he asks with a huff of annoyance.

“I’m not mad, but if a rich guy offered me lunch, I’d take it.”

“I already told you that your money doesn’t impress me—and clearly, I’m not you.”

“You’re lying,” I say simply.

He gives me a condescending smile. “I don’t lie.”

“Everybody lies.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a quote from a very cynical TV doctor. Can’t come up with your own stuff?”

I grin wider. “If you think that mouth is going to make me stop teasing you, it won’t. In fact, it only makes me want to do it more.”

He sighs. ”Then what will?”

Shrugging a shoulder, I say, “Time will tell.”

“Will you be going out for lunch then?” he asks, his gaze going back to the tablet.

I narrow my gaze, and look him over, taking in his outfit choice of the day. Grey slim trousers and a white button-up, sans tie. I can’t tell if I prefer him with a tie or without. He makes both look good.

“Yes, I’ll go out for lunch,” I say. “I’ll need an hour.”

He pulls up the calendar on the iPad as he says, “I’ll block off your schedule. And for the meeting this afternoon, it’s virtual. Do you need me to sit in with you?”

I don’t miss his word choice. He didn’t ask if I need him to attend, he asked if I need him to sit in with me—like I need babysitting.

“You know I do,” I answer. “Don’t be late.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond.

We both know he won’t be late. In fact, he’ll be here exactly when I need him.

The white paper bag is light in my hand as I carry it into the executive offices. Tage is sitting at his desk, eyes on the computer screen as he types away. He doesn’t look up at me when I reach his desk, but I place the bag carefully on it. He frowns as his fingers stop moving and his gaze slowly comes to me.

Raising a brow, he says, “What is that?”

“Well, you said you didn’t want lunch, so I brought you dessert.”

“Dessert?” he questions. “At this hour?”

“I firmly believe dessert should and can be had at any hour of the day.”

Scoffing quietly, he turns his attention back to the computer screen. As I move past him, I lean close to his ear.