Bosshole - Jagger Cole Page 0,1

town. He’s ruthless. He’s cruel. He’s iron-fisted in helming his company. He’s also recently been declared New York’s most eligible young bachelor. I mean he’s thirty years old, worth about $4 billion, and model good looking after all.

I should also mention that I’ve known him since I was a kid. Though I haven’t seen him in about a decade. Not since everything that happened between him and my brother. Not since he went to prison.

“Good morning to you!” Helen smiles. She’s actually the one who hired me. As far as I know, Barrett doesn’t even know I now work at his company. Actually, I’m positive he doesn’t. Given the history between his family and mine? Yeah, there’s not a chance he knows his second in command has hired me.

Helen frowns. She looks down and suddenly realizes the state of me. “My God, Delphine! What the hell happened?!”

“I’m so sorry!” I blurt. “There was a plow, and I guess I was too close to the curb…I can just run to Nordstrom’s…”

“Oh, heaven’s no. No.” She frowns and gives a little shake of the head. “No, we’re about the same size. Come on in. I have a wardrobe up in my office.”

I blink in surprise. “Really?”

She’s not firing me? She’s not laughing in my face and saying something like “welcome to Wall Street, go fuck yourself”? Nope, she’s laughing, and not at me.

“Yes, really! Come on in, you must be freezing!”

She ushers me inside the huge lobby of the building. I follow speechlessly. Inside, I pause and stare up at the giant metal letters across the hewn-rock façade of the lobby. They spell out “King Equities” with the crown logo on top. I shake my head.

I honestly don’t know how he did this. Ten years ago, Barrett King was in t-shirts and dirty jeans. He used to hang around my brother, Roland, and mess with motorcycles with him. He was nineteen, and had facial hair, muscles, and tattoos. And I thought he was the hottest freaking thing I’d ever seen.

Then, everything fell apart. After he went to jail, our family sort of broke in two. And I haven’t seen him since. But somehow, the ripped-jeans hottie from the wrong side of the tracks with a prison record built this place.

“This way, Delphine.”

I quickly follow Helen into a private executive elevator. We get out on the top floor. I’m instantly blown away by the panoramic window view of all of lower Manhattan. She brings me down the hall to her own private office. It’s a blur as she quickly steps into a giant walk-in closet and comes back out with a gorgeous Chanel pencil skirt.

“This’ll work fine for you, I think.”

“Ms. Hammerschmitt, I…I couldn’t possibly!”

“You could!” She laughs. “And we can’t have you walking around dripping ice all day, now can we?” She smiles and escorts me down the hall again. “Okay, just around the corner is your office. But you can change in here.” She opens the ladies room door for me. “And welcome to King Equities. We’re all very excited to have you on the team, Delphine.”

I almost want to cry. I manage to hold back on hugging her. “Thank you!” I gush. “Really, thank you!”

“Enjoy your first day,” she smiles. When she’s gone, I jump into the bathroom. I yank off my skirt, ruined tights, and panties. The tights I toss, the skirt and panties I cram into my bag. I pull on the Chanel skirt and gawk in the mirror. Goddamn, I look hot. This thing probably costs more than my entire wardrobe at home, but holy shit is it nice.

I pause and then suddenly cringe. The skirt works. Not having tights on is doable. But not wearing freaking panties, on my first day here? I groan, and my face turns red. It’s mortifying. But what am I going to do, go ask my boss if she’s got a spare pair of underwear I could, you know, just borrow? Gross, and hell no.

I take a deep breath. I fix my makeup and I steady myself in the mirror. I’ve still got half of my latte, and I take a quick sip. Time to face my first day, no panties and all. My mother would be so proud.

I grab my bag and my coffee, and I stride out of the bathroom…right into a rock-hard chest.

“Fuck!!”

The voice booms through me. I gasp and tumble back against the wall, but the damage is done. The man’s crisp white shirt is soaked in