Page 2 of The Boss (Straight Men #2)
I liked order. Not the sterile, obsessive kind of order that turned people into punchlines, but the kind that made the chaos of running a company tolerable. On a good day, the rhythm of meetings, emails, business calls, and deadlines felt like a symphony I conducted from my office on the top floor of the Nova Systems building. On a bad day, it was more like herding cats with MBA degrees. As for today… the jury was still out.
I sat behind my desk, the city skyline stretching beyond the glass wall to my left. A single folder lay open in front of me, its contents meticulously highlighted and annotated. Numbers. Projections. The lifeblood of a business I’d spent over a decade building from the ground up.
When the phone buzzed, I almost reached for the big one on the desk. But it was my cell phone, which meant only one person: Chantelle. Her picture lit up the screen as I glanced at it before answering—lustrous dark hair and smiling red lips on a face that could easily grace a Vogue cover or a silver screen. Still in her early thirties, she was ten years my junior, and a successful corporate lawyer to boot. I really hit the jackpot when I started dating her. Which is why last month I finally proposed. Yes, the sworn bachelor was finally ready to tie the knot.
Hitting the speakerphone button, I leaned back in my big leather chair. “Shouldn’t you be dazzling a courtroom somewhere, Counselor?” I drawled.
“I dazzled them this morning,” came Chantelle’s reply, smooth and confident. Her voice had the same sharp precision as her legal arguments, cutting through any noise. “Now I’m in the office, prepping for tomorrow. Thought I’d check in on my favorite CEO.”
“Flattery this early in the day? You must want something,” I teased, a corner of my mouth lifting.
“You caught me. I need you to pick up a bottle of that Bordeaux I like for dinner tonight,” she said, her tone playful. “I’ve got a late meeting, so you’re on wine duty.”
“Anything else, Your Honor?”
“Just show up looking devastatingly handsome, as usual.”
I chuckled, a low, rich sound that filled the room. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good. Don’t let me down. Oh, and don’t work too late,” she added, her voice softening slightly.
“Can’t make any promises,” I replied, though I hoped the warmth in my tone made it clear I appreciated the sentiment.
Chantelle laughed. “You’re impossible. See you tonight, Steele.”
“See you tonight, soon-to-be Mrs Steele,” I echoed, and the line went dead.
For a moment, I let the silence settle. Chantelle had a way of cutting through my defenses, and I liked a woman who wasn’t intimidated either by my physical or social stature. Hell, she came from money, while I had to build my wealth from zero. Too bad she couldn’t match my sex drive, but then again, I’d never met anyone who could. Aside from that little issue, we were a good fit—the best one I was ever likely to find. And if that wasn’t marriage material, then I didn’t know what was.
The knock at the door snapped me out of my thoughts.
“Come in,” I said, already dreading another interruption, when the door cracked open.
A young man I hadn’t seen before stepped in, clutching a file like a lifeline. He was tall, blond, broad-shouldered, and clearly nervous. His dress shirt strained across his chest, the fabric of his pants clinging to his legs as he walked in, his steps stiff with effort. “Hi, um, Mr. Steele? I’m Chris Landry, the new developer. Alicia asked me to bring this to you.” He held up the file, as if to prove he hadn’t just wandered in by mistake.
I gestured for him to set it on my desk, watching as he approached. There was something earnest about him, a kind of awkward energy that almost made me smile. “Football player?” I asked, noting the way his frame practically screamed ‘former athlete.’
He seemed lost for a moment, but then he caught my drift and smiled. “Wrestler.”
“Ah. I was a linebacker, back in the day.” It felt like a lifetime ago. “These days I only have time for the gym, but I take it just as seriously,” I added, instinctively flexing my pecs under my shirt. My workout regimen was brutal, but it helped me keep my body in top shape over the years and I was proud of it.
“It shows,” he mumbled, and then seemed to immediately regret it, his face turning pink.
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from smiling. Picking up the file, I flipped through it. “So how’s your first day going?”
He hesitated, as if debating whether to give the polite answer or the real one. “It’s… good. Busy, but good,” he said finally, his hands fidgeting at his sides.
“Busy’s good,” I replied. “Keeps you out of trouble.”
That earned me a small, tentative smile. He seemed like the type who wanted to impress, though he hadn’t yet figured out how to do it without tripping over himself. It was almost endearing. Almost.
I glanced back down at the report, already marking a couple of errors. “And Alicia didn’t warn you that delivering things to me comes with a risk of critique?”
“She… might have mentioned something about high standards,” he admitted, shifting on his feet.
“Good. I like her honesty,” I said, setting the file aside. “Where are you from, Chris?”
“Er, I was born in Portland, Maine. But I studied in Pennsylvania. I just graduated from Gettysburg College this spring,” he said quickly, as if he’d rehearsed the answer. The moment would’ve passed uneventfully, but then, in his eagerness—or maybe nerves—he tried to shift the file closer to me. It slipped from his grip, scattering papers across the floor. Without thinking, he turned his back to me and crouched to retrieve them—and that’s when it happened.
A sharp, unmistakable rrriiip tore through the air and his bare ass flashed before my eyes. My eyebrows shot up.
Chris froze, half-crouched, his profile turning a deep, mortified red. When he felt the air hit his exposed butt, he straightened and swirled to face me, one of his hands clutching the scattered pages in front of him like a shield, the other one instinctively reaching behind to… assess the damage.
I couldn’t help it—I laughed, loud and rough, the sound echoing through the office. “Well,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “that’s one way to leave an impression.”
“I—I’m so sorry,” he stammered, looking like he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “This is… I don’t even…”
“Relax, Chris,” I said, waving a hand to stop whatever apology he was about to blurt out. “Shit happens. And going commando to work is a ballsy move—I respect that. Though I have to say, I wasn’t expecting to get mooned right in the middle of my office.”
“I—I’m not commando,” he said, his voice small, hesitant. “I’m wearing my lucky jockstrap.”
“Oh?” I grinned. “It’s still funny.”
That earned a nervous chuckle from him, though he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.
I stood, smoothing the front of my shirt, and rounded my desk until I stood right in front of him, half a head taller and almost twice as beefy as this blond pup. “Tell you what. It’s almost four o’clock and I say you worked long enough for your first day. Let me take you to my tailor now, and we’ll get you sorted out with a proper suit. My treat. Sound good?”
“You don’t have to do that,” he said, stunned.
“Well, you can’t spend the rest of the day flashing everyone, and you clearly need clothes that fit. A good suit is an investment, just like a good employee. Consider it part of your orientation.”
“But I—” He hesitated, glancing back at the door.
“You’re not going to argue with your boss on day one, are you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He shot me a wide-eyed stare. “No, sir, of course not!”
“Good.” I picked up my suit coat from the hatstand by the door. “Let’s go.”
“But how will I—”
I offered him my jacket. “Put this on. It’ll cover your ass.”
He took the blazer and shrugged into it. Just as I thought, it was a size or two too big for him, and provided a perfect cover for his exposed derriere. “Thank you, Mr. Steele.”
“And don’t give me any of that ‘sir’ or Mr. Steele nonsense. My name’s Isaac—but you can call me Zac. I’ve seen your butt, so we might as well skip the formalities.” I felt bad for the guy and didn’t want him to feel traumatized on his first day. There would be plenty of time to traumatize him later. Nova Systems wasn’t a place for the weak. But everyone deserved a fighting chance at least. Heroes are shaped by the hardships they endure, and we were about to see if this kid had what it took to become one of ours.