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He doesn’t answer.
“Exactly,” I say. “So, what makes you think that some of your miserable peons don’t want to do the same thing?”
“Miss Grey.” He steps closer. “I apologize.”
“You’re forgiven, Mr. Reiss. I accept your apology.”
He stares into my eyes like he always does whenever we’re alone, like on the nights when we’re working late, and he sits next to me and temporarily acts like a human being while we talk until sunrise.
In those moments, I felt a bit delusional, like he had an angelic lining and saw me as more than an employee. Like he was actually my friend.
“I mean that I’m sorry for giving you the illusion that this conversation was adebate.” He returns to his Satanic form. “It’s not.”
“Have you ever looked into getting some personal therapy for your mood swings?”
“You’re behind on your work anyway.” He ignores my comment. “The last thing you need is time away from me.”
“You mean,work?”
“Same thing.”
“I’m not working on Christmas,” I say.
“We’re past that, Miss Grey. There are two other things we need to discuss now.” He pulls an envelope from his pocket and holds it out for me. “I received this from Webster’s Dictionary this morning.”
“So, they’re finally adding ‘unbearable-ass-boss’ to their vocabulary?”
“No.” He doesn’t deserve to be this damn good-looking. “They wanted to let me know that an anonymous employee has been sending them ten requests a day about adding my photo next to the word ‘bastard,’ and they were hoping that she would get tired of being rejected after her ninety-eighth time.”
“The ninety-ninth is the charm. I mean, how awful.” My cheeks heat as I take the envelope from his fingers. “I’ll be sure to mention this in the team email and hopefully that employee will focus on her work.”
“That’d be a first.” He looks amused as he opens the door for me. “Have a good night, Miss Grey.”
“Thank you.” I step into the hallway. “Wait…I thought you said there were two things you needed to discuss. What’s the other one?”
“Your boyfriend.” He pauses. “Are you sleeping with him?”
What?“What type of question is that?”
“It’s a curious one.” He looks me up and down. “You’ve never come into work looking ‘slightly fucked’ or passionately disheveled, so I’m just wondering.”
“Am I allowed to ask the same thing about your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Okay, then.”
“I mean, no, I’m not sleeping with her.” He pauses. “She’s not technically my girlfriend…”
I swallow. I have no idea what to say to that.
“Are you in love with him?” he asks, stepping closer.
Silence.
“I’ll see you on Monday, Mr. Reiss.”
“It’ll probably be tomorrow.”
