My Favorite Boss Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
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But why, suddenly, did she not want to attend the awards dinner?

I was going to have to figure out this mystery.

The next day, Myers was quiet but seemed all right. She worked hard all morning on the budgets I gave her. I attended meetings, listened to clients, and was grateful when the final phone call was over.

She entered my office, sliding the budgets on my desk.

“Done?” I asked, not looking up.

“Yes.”

“I assume you’re leaving to get ready for the dinner?” All staff had been told the office was closing at four.

“If that is all right.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Since I was part of the decision to allow it, it is.”

“Good, then. I’ll head out.”

“I’m working tomorrow,” I informed her. “I have a lot of changes to the Duncan design.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She headed for the door, and I called to her. “Myers.”

She turned.

“Try to enjoy the evening. The speeches tend to be a little long, but the food is good, and they offer a surprisingly good red at the bar.”

She smiled. “Noted.”

And she was gone.

I worked until six, then took a fast shower and changed into my tux. I straightened the bow tie, slipping on my cuff links and tugging my sleeves into place. The dinner was happening at a hotel only a few blocks from the office, and I strolled over, arriving in plenty of time. I picked up a drink from the bar, shook some hands, and spoke with some other colleagues. As I stood with a group of men, one of them whistled under his breath. “Now there’s a stunner.”

I followed his gaze to the bar. A woman had her back to us, but her vivid green dress framed her shoulders and the creamy skin of her upper back. The dress flared out from her waist, showing off shapely legs and a set of dainty ankles, encased in low heels that matched her dress. A tattoo of a flower was on the top of her right shoulder blade, and I squinted to figure out what kind it was.

Then she turned, and I almost dropped my glass.

Magnolia Myers was a vision. Her hair was swept into a stylish knot, tendrils dancing around her face and neck. The cocktail dress crisscrossed her breasts, hanging off her shoulders, showing the rest of the tattoo that was etched into her skin along the front and back side of her shoulder blade. I recognized the flower now, the magnolias stunning on her skin.

She was curves and softness, encased in emerald green. She was exquisite.

Our eyes met and locked. I couldn’t force my gaze from hers as she lifted a glass to her lips and sipped. She was a throwback to another era, her choice of dress as eclectic and stylish as the clothes she wore into the office. She was elegant, beautiful, and classy—and she took my breath away.

“Jesus, I’d do her.”

“She’s taken,” I snarled, surprised by my own words, tearing my gaze from her.

“You know her?”

“Yes. She’s engaged.” Why I was telling him that lie, I didn’t know.

“Oh. Shame. Still, I’d have a go.”

“Grow up,” I snapped and walked away, not caring about the shocked expressions.

I headed across the room, faltering as another staff member, Rylee, joined Magnolia. The two of them hugged, and Myers tugged a shawl over her shoulders before they walked away together. I asked for another scotch, then leaned against the bar, observing the room, my gaze finding Myers time and time again.

She was easily the most captivating woman in the room. She sat down with Rylee, draping the shawl over the back of her chair. I strolled toward my table, choosing a seat that gave me a clear view of her. Despite her smile, she was tense. I could see it in the set of her shoulders, the way the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Rylee said something to her, and she shook her head with a rueful smile and a shrug. I wondered what they were discussing, my thoughts interrupted as my tablemates joined me. I talked with my partners and their wives, grateful the extra seat at our table was being used by Lawson’s mother and not some stranger or one of the staff. Looking over, I watched as other assistants and employees filled our remaining two tables. I stood and got another drink, standing in a shadowed alcove at the back of the room, shamelessly eavesdropping. I found it interesting how people acted outside the office when they thought no one was listening. Often, their true nature showed. Two women stopped close to me, gossiping, bad-mouthing outfits and people. They didn’t notice me, and they became especially nasty, focusing on some woman, disparaging her outfit, calling her names, all while wearing false smiles on their faces. I was admittedly shocked at their venom.

“I hope she’s fired after tonight. What a whore,” one of them muttered.


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