First message
There were two things I knew for certain about my boss.
One: she was terrifyingly good at her job. As was I.
Two: I wanted her.
Not in some tragic, write-her-name-in-my-diary kind of way. I was horny. She was beautiful. I worked under her. It was a simple problem with a very obvious solution.
Unfortunately, the solution was apparently “do not sleep with your boss.”
I’d been trying to behave.
Really.
For almost two weeks, I’d kept my flirting relatively harmless. Compliments. Coffee. Sitting beside her during meetings. The occasional comment that made her give me that look.
But she was my boss.
And I was supposed to have boundaries.
Fortunately, I was also an excellent employee.
The biggest clients loved me. My work was consistently ahead of schedule. My numbers were ridiculous. If I disappeared tomorrow, half the department would probably panic.
Which meant, realistically… she wasn’t going to fire me.
So I knocked on her office door.
“Got a minute?”
I stepped inside before I could reconsider.
I had my tie loosened slightly and my sleeves rolled up.
Nothing outrageous.
Yet.
“I wanted to talk about my performance.”
I leaned against the doorframe.
“Specifically, whether you think I’m deserving of a little… personal recognition.”
My grin widened.
“You know. For all my hard work.”