Page 4 of Dating the Boss


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Alexander opened the door and my breath caught in my throat. He looked even better today - his eyes jawline sharp enough to cut glass. His tall, muscular figure filled the doorway. He wore a button-down shirt tucked into jeans that hugged him in all the right places. He gave me a warm smile, beckoning me to enter.

"Come on in," he said.

I walked into the room carrying a trash bag and new sheets. Everything was exactly as it had been when I left the previous day. He glanced around for a moment before turning my way.

"Do you need anything today?" I asked.

My question made him chuckle and he shook his head." There are a lot of things that I need, but I don't think you can give them to me right now."

My eyes shot open and stomach did a somersault at his words. "Okay, I'll leave the sheets and check back tomorrow."

"Wait!" He said, his voice low and deep. His grip gentle.

When I looked into his eyes, they glinted with hope. "Do you need something?"

His eyes locked with mine and he took a step closer." I want to see if you're interested in going to dinner?" he asked, his voice suddenly tentative and unsure.

He picked up the bouquet of red roses and a small black box with a velvet lid, both now outstretched in his hands. I took a step back, surprised, and felt my heart drop at what he was offering. "Because you shove a fancy jewelry box and flowers in my face, I'm not interested," I replied, spinning on my heel and walking away.

I knew men like him wouldn't settle down with a woman like me. We were from different worlds. His was filled with fancy events and luxuries, while mine consisted of a tiny house, student loans, and barely being able to survive. He was the kind of man that was out of my league. I wanted to believe he wanted more than a fling, but the thought of my heart being broken again was more than I could bear. In that moment, it felt like no matter how hard I wished for it, a relationship between us would never work out. Instead of giving in to my desires, I made a commitment to no longer accept anything less than what I deserved. No more settling for moments of loneliness and fleeting connections.

When I made it home, the certainty of my decision wavered. With cellphone in hand, I dialed my best friend who always had the right words.

"Hello?"

"Charlotte. You won't believe what happened to me today," I said as I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto my bed.

"What?" Her voice rose with anticipation.

"A really good-looking guy asked me out, and I said no."

“Not surprised in the least,” Charlotte said, “but I have a guy I'm setting you up with tonight and you don't get to say no. He's a nice guy and has his act together. All I'm asking for is one date. If it's an epic fail, then at least you tried.”

My friend's enthusiasm was palpable, yet the tone of her voice was laced with a demand. I sighed in resignation, already knowing the outcome of my acquiescence. “Fine, but you owe me. You know I hate blind dates. They never end well for me.”

The message from Charlotte came with an attached photo, which she must've taken at work. In it, the man had his eyes closed while he smiled, seemingly unaware of the camera's presence. I was taken back by how attractive he was, but my newfound hope was quickly met with paranoia. How long will this one last? It should be easier to find a man who can tick all my boxes - intelligence, care, and looks - without any of the accompanying drama. But every time I thought I had found him, he'd slip away. Charlotte had sent me on many over-the-top dates; she was always willing to go the extra mile to find me Mr. Right.

As the clock ticked away to the time to meet him, I selected a white dress from th e closet, and the butterflies in my stomach took flight as I walked down to the restaurant, trying to calm my nerves. The date might not be perfect, but this was my chance to take a risk and not just stay in my comfort zone. With each step I felt my guard drop a little more until I was outside the restaurant. I knew this could be an epic fail, but the thought of dying single and alone was even worse, so I had to take a chance.

As I approached, I noticed him standing in the front, twiddling his thumbs with anxious energy. His dark hair wastousled and his hazel eyes sparkled in the sunlight. He wore a well-fitted grey suit, and held a distinct look.

"Hi, I'm Ella," I said, confidently, putting my hand out to shake.

He glanced at my hand but didn't take it. "I'm Michael," he muttered before looking up at the entrance of the building. "Shall we go in?"

After the host confirmed our reservation, she escorted us to our table, where Michael already had his phone in his hand, his gaze fixed on the illuminated screen. His fingers flew across the glass surface, sending messages to someone else. My disbelief filled the air, bitter and obvious. Hadn’t we come here to see if we were compatible, if there was potential for a relationship? How could he possibly find out by staring at his phone?

The waiter, a tall man with an apron tucked around his waist, approached the couple's table. “Good evening. Would you care to hear about tonight’s specials?” he asked, his eyes flickering to the small device in Michael's hands.

The corner of Michael’s mouth twitched with a slight smile, but he kept his gaze on the screen as he said, “I’ll take the chef’s special and she’ll have your finest steak, medium well, potatoes, and a side salad.”

My eyes widened with indignation. I set my jaw, determined to get what I wanted. “Wait? I didn’t even get to choose my own meal? What if I didn’t like my steak medium well?” I asked with a controlled but audible edge in my voice. “Umm… Actually, can I have the steak medium rare with green beans instead of potatoes? I’m not really a huge fan.” I stared him down, but it wasn’t like he noticed.

“Of course, ma’am. We’ll have it right out.”

As the waiter left, I prayed he would put his phone away. I didn’t want to be here at that point, and he was making it hard for me to stay.

“So, what do you do?”

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