Page 18 of Lying to the Boss

That doesn’t seem right. I don’t believe it. He doesn’t seem like the type.

“Yes. No. Kind of?”

I hold his gaze for a long moment. “If you’d like a different position, I’ll make it happen,” I say.

Sighing again, he shakes his head. “No, I like what I’m doing.”

“You just don’t like me,” I say.

He looks guilty. “It’s not that I don’t like you…”

“Then what?”

“You’re just…” When he can’t come up with the word, he blows out a sharp breath. “Nothing. It’s not you. I’m sorry, really. I’m just dealing with a lot, and I shouldn’t take it out on you. Again, I’m sorry, and I’ll do better. I appreciate you putting up with me. I’m doing better than I expected, and that’s partly because of you.”

“Better than you expected?” I question.

“What?”

“You said you’re doing better than you expected. What does that mean?”

His mouth opens and closes as if he’s deciding if he wants to answer me or not.

“It means I left home with nothing and thought I’d struggle a little bit longer. I mean, things aren’t perfect, but—.”

“If you need more money—”

“Don’t throw your money at me; it will make me hate you,” he says seriously.

Everything in his tone tells me this is not a boundary I should cross. Not even one I should get next to. It also tells me that money is a sore spot for him, which I already had an idea of. But why? An ex who bought him everything but wasn’t faithful? A parent who showered him with gifts but was never around? Those are just the obvious ones, but it could be any number of things. Does it matter? I don’t know. But I do want to know.

“Well, to be fair, you are doing a wonderful job. You’ve caught on quickly. I can trust you with tasks. You’d deserve it.”

“My salary is already above starting to begin with.”

“According to who?”

“The average.”

“I don’t base employee salaries on the average, Tage. I base them on what I feel the job is worth and how well the employee is doing.”

“Yet you saw me, after fucking me, no less, and increased the salary by ten thousand dollars.”

I can’t help but smirk. “Yeah, I did do that.” I shrug. “What’s the problem?”

“I want to earn it.”

“You are earning it. By putting up with me. By showing up every day and doing your job wonderfully. Consider that extra ten thousand a reason not to punch me.”

He smiles at that, and I feel like I’ve just won.

Not the war, but a battle. A small one. One of many, no doubt.

But it’s still a win.

Chapter Eight

Tage