Page 32 of Bossy Wicked Prince

I texted her after Nate offered me the assistant job, hoping it would earn me some approval. Hell, maybe even a congratulations. Instead, I’ve gotten constant texts lecturing me about how to dress and behave in an office, along with warnings about hownotto act. As if I needed Mom to tell me not to download a dating app on a work phone.

Not that I’deverdownload a dating app.

I’ll have to answer eventually, though, and now might be a good time. As soon as she says something offensive, I can just tell her I have to go back to work.

This call will go well.

An affirmation I don’t see becoming reality.

“Hi, Mom,” I say brightly.

“What are you wearing for your first day?” she says as a greeting.

“A pair of slacks and a blouse.”

“Is the shirt low-cut?”

“Of course not!” I sputter. Seriously, how unprofessional does she think I am?

“Tomorrow, wear a low-cut one.”

My mouth drops open. “Why?”

“You know, your new boss is very wealthy, and he’s single. You might want to think about catching his interest.”

My face turns hot. Mom has no idea that Nate and I have been flirting. So is her opinion of me so low that she thinks my only prospects are as a gold-digger?

“That wouldn’t be professional,” I snap. “You’re always telling me how important professionalism is.”

She sighs. “How do you expect to pay for your life making what you make? You have to be practical, Caitlin. You’re not the only person in the world. I have to retire one day, and it would be nice if you could contribute.”

There it is. Mom smelled money, and she wanted a taste. Well, that’s not happening. Even if Nate strode in here right now, got on one knee, and offered me his hand and half his fortune, I wouldn’t say yes, and Idefinitelywouldn’t try to give either to my mother.

“I have to go. Bye,” I say abruptly before I hang up.

Immediately, the phone lights up with Mom’s name again. Too bad—she’s lost her daughter privileges for at least another week. The last thing I needed was to kick off my first day with her shenanigans.

God, I need to put myself back in a good mood before Nate arrives and the real work starts. I head to the kitchen and refill my coffee cup. Then, I straighten everything on my desk again, making sure it all looks neat and professional.

I’m just picking a new computer background for my work laptop when Nate strides into the office. His eyes on his phone, he makes it halfway across the room before he even notices I’m there. When his steely gray eyes land on me, he stops in his tracks. He looks…surprised.

I straighten my shoulders. What, did he think I felt so embarrassed about Friday that I’d quit? No way. I need this job too much.

Wildly, my new building manager actuallyloweredmy rent. From the letter they sent, my old rent was raised too quickly for Toronto’s tenant protections. The new owners are doing things by the book. They changed everyone’s locks, added steel bars on the front entrance windows, and installed a crazy number of security cameras. The whole thing is very Big Brother, but hey, at least my apartment is safe.

I might have gotten lucky, but the shelter hasn’t. The manager told me on Saturday that if they don’t get more funding in the next few months, they might have to shut down before Christmas. When I think about all the residents having nowhere to go for the holidays, my chest aches.

No, I need every cent from this new paycheck to help the shelter. Embarrassment over throwing myself at my new boss isn’t a good enough reason to quit.

I flash Nate a smile so broadly, it makes my cheeks hurt. “Good morning. Can I get you some coffee?”

“No.” He doesn’t follow that with a “thank you” before he walks past me and into his office.

Well, at least it was more than a grunt.

I grab my laptop and follow him. “I’ve gone over your schedule for the week already. I sent your notes on the Crown Hotel Group contract over to legal, and they say they’ll have the changes ready by noon. Do you want to review them again before they send the revisions over to CHG?”

His natural frown lifts in surprise. “Yes. And the lunch meeting?—”