Over It

Two more weeks. Surely, I can survive fourteen days.

Olivia
Working for my temporary boss sucks. I used to think he was drop dead gorgeous. Now, I wish he’d just drop dead. He might have all the other women in the office fooled, but I’ve gotten to know the real man. And he’s the devil in disguise. I swear his eyes even glow red. One second he’s sweet and kind, the next he’s a jerk. His hot and cold attitude is getting old. I’m over it.

Marcus
She’s got me tied in so many knots, I don’t know if I’m coming or going. After watching my dad sleep his way through every secretary in his company, I always swore I’d never follow in his footsteps. Too bad, my heart doesn’t remember that promise when it goes and falls for my temporary PA. Now, I’ve got to decide if I’m going to man up and get over it or stay the boss from hell forever. Marcus has his work cut out for him but he won’t give up on his girl. He’s going to do whatever it takes to prove to Olivia that he’s all in. This boss from hell is about to become the love of her life.

If you like over-the-top, insta-love romance with a little bit of humor, this short romance is the perfect story for you.

Groaning, I curse my shitty luck when the phone on my desk rings at four-fifty. I was so freaking close to escaping for the day. Ten more minutes and I would’ve been racing for the elevator like my pantyhose were on fire. I grit my teeth and answer. “May I help you, Mr. Thornhill?”
“I’m not calling to chat. Please, come to my office.” The jerk. I should quit, but I actually love working for my real boss, Thomas Thornhill. His brother, the company CEO and my temporary boss, is an asshole. I’ve managed to make it through the last month, but it’s been close. As the next two weeks stretch out in front of me, I pray I somehow find the strength to survive without grabbing his expensive tie and strangling him with it.
“I’ll be right there,” I clip out and hang up on him.
My heels click across the marble floor as I march toward his office, breathing deeply in an attempt to center myself. After knocking on the heavy wood door, I paste a fake smile on my face and push it open. “How may I help you?” I ask.
“About time,” the hot asshole snarls under his breath, and my hands twitch at my side. His navy-blue silk tie is calling to me, but I remind myself that strangling my boss would look horrible on my resume. “I need you to stay late tonight.” What? My mouth falls open as my argument bubbles up my throat. Everyone knows I don’t ever stay late on Thursday nights. It’s been my “off-limits” night since I started working at Thornhill & Brunts five years ago.
“Sir.” I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from raising my voice to the spoiled jerk. “I’m sorry. I can’t stay late, but I’ll come in early tomorrow morning to complete whatever you need done.”
He raises an eyebrow and leans back in his chair. “That isn’t good enough.” I open my mouth to argue, but he holds up his hand. “I have changes for the Hanson contract, and Neal Hanson will be calling soon.” He glares at me like I’m mentally slow. “I need you to take notes.”
Sighing, I admit to myself I’ve lost this fight. “Would you like to email me the changes, or do you want to dictate them?” I ask.
As a smirk breaks out on his perfectly formed lips, I barely resist the urge to stomp over to him and slap it away. “I’ll send you the list now.” He glances at his computer screen, dismissing me. I walk out the door, and he announces behind me, “Please, be ready for the conference call in an hour.”
Asshole, jerk, pig. As I run through my list of nicer descriptions for Marcus Thornhill in my mind, I pull my cellphone out of my pocket and text Granny Sue. This is the first Thursday night card game I’ve missed in years, and I know she’ll understand, especially when I tell her it’s all his fault. After listening to me lament over his autocratic ways and unreasonable demands for the last month, Granny won’t be shocked he’s forcing me to stay late on Thursday night.
When Thomas returns from his six-week-long assignment at the Thornhill & Brunts London division, he owes me. Big time. Before my boss left, I had the same misconception as all the other poor, deluded females at this company. I believed the elder Thornhill was tall, dark, handsome, and brooding. Now, I can add impatient, unfair, spoiled, and downright unpleasant to be around. The poor female fools all melt under the jerk’s hot, dark stare and lust after his muscular body, but they haven't had to deal with the real man. A month ago, his deep brown eyes with long sooty lashes might have made my heart beat faster and my panties wet. Not anymore. Now, I swear I see red glowing in their depths. Instead of wanting to run my fingers through his perfectly styled, chocolate-colored hair to mess it up, I clench my hands together to resist the urge to grab the strands and tug. The first time he looked at me, I stared at the cleft in his chin and wondered what it would feel like to run my tongue through the little indention. Now, I’d love to throw a dart at it.