Page 12 of Grumpy Boss in Love
“I can see that you have a lot of questions,” he said, making me gasp.
Was he a mind reader now?
“Save them, Ruby. My private life is none of your business.”
I harrumphed but refrained from pressing to satisfy my curiosity. “So, you ordered me to your office to demand I keep your secret?” Lifting a shoulder, I said, “Don’t worry about it, Prof?—”
“Ruby…”
“I mean, Mr. Westwood.”
He sighed.
Breaking the habit of calling him Professor would be a conscious effort. “I don’t care what you’ve got going on in your personal life. I’m just here to finish my internship.”
“And if you weren’t late, I would have known you were chosen as an intern when I met the others.” That condescending tone he typically took with me was up front and center. It grated on my nerves.
“I wasn’t l?—”
“You were.”
My mouth snapped shut. Maybe I was a few minutes late, but I could hardly use the excuse of working at Luxe Elite all night.
“All the other interns arrived at least thirty minutes early,” he said. “I took a trip to the fifth floor to scope out the new lot.”
“To see if any of your students were among the bunch?” I guessed.
“Mhmm.When I saw no one from my class, I relaxed. Then I ran intoyou.”
Did he have to sound so disgusted? You’d think I was a plague or something.
“Always full of surprises, aren’t you, Ruby?” he murmured. “And running late, as usual. I don’t deal with slackers here, even from interns. When you arrive on time, you’re late. Arrivingat leastfifteen minutesbeforethe appointed hour is being on time.”
Slack-jawed, I stared at Elliot freakingWestwood. I’d gotten a similar speech the third time I had showed up late to his class. How could fate screw me over so epically as to make him my boss? I thought I had escaped him when I graduated, but now I was stuck with him for an entire summer. Did I do something wrong in a past life to deserve this torture?
5
ELLIOT
“Hi, Dad.”
An awkward silence preceded my father’s brusque, “Elliot, do you need something?”
Massaging my forehead, I stared blindly out the window. Some days, I enjoyed the view of the city from this high up. Other days I didn’t because it reminded me how lonely I was. So far from everyone and everything… all alone in my glass tower. Most of my employees were afraid to spend even five minutes in my company.
“No,” I said. “I’m just calling to check on you and Jane. How is she?” Today must be rough for my stepmother. I wasn’t sure if it was for Dad because the cold bastard didn’t seem to have any feelings. Then again, people said that about me, so I guess I shouldn’t be too judgemental.
“She’s fine,” Dad said.
I sighed. “Are you sure?”
Oliver Westwood and sympathetic didn’t really go hand in hand. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t ask his wife how she was doing on her dead son’s birthday.
“Jesus, Elliot, I’m busy. If you’re so concerned about her, why don’t you call her and ask her yourself?”
That was a valid question. I rested my arm on one of the steel frames of the window to contemplate. Call Jane or not to call? Would it be awkward having the bastard son from her husband’s tawdry affair call her to sympathize about the death of the son who wassupposedto be running the family empire? Or should I leave her alone? I struggled with this decision every year.
“The ball is teed up, Oliver,” a voice said in Dad’s background. “Take your swing.”