Page 143 of Manhattan Bossholes

“What do you think about using teas?” I asked. “There’s been a big shift in the market toward them recently.”

“I think it’s a good idea. We could potentially incorporate green tea or hibiscus tea for added antioxidants and flavoring.”

We were surprisingly on the same page about the line, which was a relief. I knew from her reputation as the Masked Mixer that she knew her stuff, but I’d been a little worried we wouldn’t be able to see eye to eye. But Cora had some great ideas, and she genuinely seemed to appreciate my insights. I’d maybe even go as far as to say we were getting along, which was… Well, we hadn’t gotten along this well since high school. Definitely not since before the breakup.

Cora gasped suddenly and grabbed another frame off the table beside her. “Oh, look at you! Posing with your poorly designed tenth anniversary bottle.”

I huffed. “I don’t get your hang up about the bottle. Why don’t you like the way it looks?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” she said, putting the photo back down. “It’s all about how the bottle feels in your hand.”

I swallowed hard, my mind suddenly filled with a dangerously distracting image of her handling certain parts of me in the past.

“When I’m mixing up a drink,” she continued, “I want to be able to grab the bottle quickly. I want it to feel light, easy. I don’t want to have to pause to readjust my grip or worry about dropping the bottle.”

“So you’re saying…” I grinned. “It’s a little too girthy?”

Cora laughed. “Your words, but yes.”

Hearing that sound startled something in me, and heat coursed out from my chest and down through my limbs. I’d forgotten how good it felt to make her laugh. She’d always had such a gorgeous laugh, and being the one to elicit that sound still filled me with a strange sense of pride.

“Is it too late to put ‘final bottle design approval’ in my contract for the Elixir Free line?”

I leaned forward, my hands on my knees, and smirked at her. “Yes.”

She grinned. “Damn.”

CORA

I don’t know what either of us had put in our coffees this morning, but it was like Aiden had decided to be less insufferable than usual. Maybe I was getting used to being around him again?

Or maybe I was getting tired of being angry.

Our reunion had been a shitshow—seriously, how had he not recognized me?—but I was willing to woman up and admit I might have taken things a tiny bit far. Our breakup still stung a little, and maybe it always would just because it was so unresolved. But it was pretty far in the past…and in all honesty, part of my anger was from another, more recent breakup that had me in “all men are assholes” mode. But Aiden wasn’t being an asshole right now. He was being smart and insightful and a surprisingly good boss.

“Guess I should get back to work,” I said, gathering up the notes I’d scribbled while we were talking. If Aiden was going to figure out a way to source even the most difficult of ingredients, I was going to let my ideas run wild. The prospect was exciting. I’d never had the resources to just play like this before. Coming to work for The Man had some serious benefits.

“I should, too.” He stood. “Get started on work, that is.”

“I’ll get you a list of the rarer ingredients so your teams can start trying to source them.”

He nodded. “Sounds good.”

“And I’ll keep Your Majesty informed of my progress.”

He tried to frown at me, but I could tell he was fighting a smile. “You really have to give that up.”

I flashed my teeth at him. “Never.”

Before Aiden could get out his reply, the door to his office flew open, and Dominic stormed inside.

“I swear to God, I can’t fucking deal with her anymore!” He marched across the room, dropping his hands flat on Aiden’s desk. I don’t think he even noticed me, but I was frozen. “I just got off the phone with Amanda, and she’s driving me up the wall with all these crazy demands! I don’t even think she really wants any of them—she’s just trying to make me run around in circles so she can manipulate more and more out of me until she’s wrung me dry. I mean, at this rate, why not my arms or legs or a goddamn kidney?”

Dominic whirled around, spotting me for the first time. My face flushed so hot and so fast it must have been brighter than a stop sign. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to⁠—”

“No, God, Cora.” He rubbed his face with both his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here. Please accept my apology.”

“It’s fine,” I said, readjusting my notebook under my arm, trying to keep the loose papers from falling. “Really. We were just finishing up.” I angled toward the door. “I’ll let you two talk.” I darted across the office and slipped through the door, awkward and out of place. I barely managed to get the door closed behind me before the messy, haphazard pile under my arm slipped free, scattering on the floor outside the office door. Thank God Connie wasn’t there to see me.