Page 553 of Manhattan Bossholes

The Grouchy One

1

FELICITY

“Late, late, late,” I scolded myself as I dashed through the lobby of my building. “Always late. When am I going to learn?”

I was wearing a black pencil skirt, which prevented me from breaking into a full-tilt run, and the heels I’d borrowed from my roommate, Nina, were shaped to her feet, not mine, and I kept worrying they were going to fall off. I paused to glance in the giant gold mirror above the flower arrangement to make sure there was nothing in the teeth I’d forgotten to brush, making Carl the doorman laugh at me. He’d worked in the lobby since I’d moved into Nina’s apartment, which meant he had a front row seat to the mess that was my life.

“Ya look gorgeous, as usual, kid,” he said, his Bronx accent bouncing off the walls. He slid out from behind the desk to beat me to the door. “Prettiest tenant in the building.”

I knew that was a lie, because the Central Park Tower was also the home of models, mistresses, and well-preserved ladies who lunch. It was a luxury building I had no business being in, all thanks to the rich aunt who’d left her apartment to Nina when she passed.

“You flatter me, Carl. I feel like a total mess.” I managed to grin back at him as I re-tucked the back of the fitted pink blouse into my skirt. “Hopefully I can fake it because this is an interview with Veritique. I really want this job!”

And I really needed it, but I wasn’t about to admit that out loud. My gig work as a marketing and PR strategist for small businesses was keeping my bills paid, but just barely. I didn’t like looking at my bank account because the reality of how dire things were for me was always right there in black and white. Living like this, as a freelancer with my fingers perpetually crossed until the next gig materialized, was too stressful for me. I needed an income I could depend on—and hopefully one that would finally let me build up some savings for a change. Then, Nina and I could finally start thinking about how to make our dream of starting our own bookshop a reality.

That’s where this interview came in. It was my ticket to stability, and eventually, my next big step.

“Well, then, best of luck,” Carl said as he reached for the door. He tipped his head at me wearing the tight smile I’d seen him use with the fancy folks in the building.

I wondered why he’d switched to being formal when we were used to gossiping and cackling together, but then I saw movement near the elevator out of the corner of my eye. Someone was coming. Our casual friendship was probably considered outré by some of the snobs who lived here. For my part, I didn’t give a damn what they thought of me, but I didn’t want to get Carl in trouble, so I followed his lead.

“Why, thank you, sir,” I winked at him as I stepped out into the bright morning sunlight.

“Give ’em hell,” he whispered, making me laugh.

I felt like luck was shining on me as I stepped out into the late winter sun because someone was just getting out of a cab right in front of my building. Perfect!

I wasn’t usually that lucky—my life was more about near misses and almosts—but I intended to change that, and this interview was the way to make it happen.

“Taxi!” I screamed and waved my hand, even though the windows were closed and the driver engrossed in his phone.

I fumbled with my purse, making sure I’d remembered to grab my wallet so I could actually pay for said taxi. I was so busy digging through the massive thing I barely noticed the dark form striding past me. Until he knocked into me.

“Excuse me,” the deep voice said, somehow making it sound like I’d stepped in his way even though he’d drawn first blood. I stumbled a few steps.

“Yeah, excuse you,” I retorted, finding my footing and finally snagging my wallet. The sidewalk was huge, why the heck was he invading my space?

I realized why when he slid up to the cab.

Oh hell no. “Hey,” I shouted, indignant that he was going to try to steal my taxi. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He paused with his hand on the handle. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

The asshole didn’t even bother to turn to face me, like I didn’t warrant his full attention. The irritation practically dripped off of him, which made me even angrier.

“It looks like you’re trying to steal my cab,” I retorted, fuming. “I was here first.”

He finally let go of the handle and turned around so we could have a proper face-off. I got my first good look at him, and I had to ignore every impulse to gasp in shock.

Because the man was fucking gorgeous.

I’d initially thought, as I stared angry daggers at his back, that maybe all he had going for him was his height, but now I could see how wrong I was. He was handsome in that haughty “don’t you know who I am” kind of way, like he was so good looking that getting what he wanted was a way of life. Dark brown hair that managed to be styled but not fussy, a strong nose that was probably part of his generational wealth, passed down from father to son for ages, and a jawline any male model would kill for. The suit was charcoal wool, and even though I wasn’t a fashion girlie like Nina, I could tell by the way it fit him that it was made to order. He might have looked like he belonged on a movie poster if it weren’t for the judgey way he had of staring at me that made me feel like I’d just crawled out of a sewer even though I was as put together as I could manage.

“If you were here first,” he said in a tight voice, “then why are you still half a sidewalk away from the cab?”

“You…but I was…” I gestured around me, getting angrier by the second. “I know you heard me yell to the driver!” I shot back, loudly enough that a few passers-by turned to gawk at me. “Stop pretending you didn’t.”