You’re the Boss Read Online Emma Hart

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
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“No, sir, no,” Melody said quickly. “That’s exactly what we order.”

His expression immediately brightened. “Good. I thought I’d made a mistake.”

“Um, thank you, sir,” Daniel said, pulling the food down from the higher ledge onto his desk. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Not at all. You’re working hard.” Theodore turned to me. “Are you ready?”

“Just a moment,” I said. “I need to send this email first.”

“All right. I’ll wait in the office for you.” He picked up the bag and carried it into his office.

“Miss St. James!” Melody whispered, getting to her feet and staring at me with wide eyes. “Really, what’s gotten into him today? Is this poison? Are we going to die? Aren’t executioners always nice to their victims before they kill them? Is this our famed last meal before we’re dropped into a pit of lions?”

Ah. They were both watching too many movies.

I sent the email I was working on and got to my feet with a soft laugh. “No,” I said, gathering the files she’d printed out earlier for me and my small work laptop. “He’s an extremely observant man. It’s actually one of his better qualities.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Come now.” I leant against their desk. “You don’t think he got to where he is by sheer dumb luck, do you? He notices everything about everyone. I’m not surprised he knew exactly what you eat whenever we order Italian food for lunch. I’d be willing to bet he also knows your favourite sandwiches, salads, and how you take your tea and coffee.”

Daniel stared at the doors to Theodore’s office. “You know… That would be a bit scary if he were anyone else, but somehow, it makes sense when it’s him.”

I smiled. “I bet that when I go in there, my food will be a beef ravioli in a white sauce with a rocket salad on the side.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because when I order Italian food, I have two orders: ravioli for a working lunch and prawn linguine for a normal lunch. This is a working lunch.” I tapped my fingers against the desk. “Enjoy, you two.”

I walked over to the office and knocked on the door before poking my head in.

“Come in,” Theodore said. “Beef ravioli and a rocket salad, right?”

Melody’s gasp tickled me, and I stepped inside while choking back a laugh. “That’s exactly it, sir.”

“Good. Come and sit down.” He motioned to the seating area where he’d laid the food out on the coffee table. “Oh, maybe we should have used one of the meeting rooms instead.”

“We’re here now.” I set my laptop and file down on the table and turned on the laptop. “Did you get a chance to review the plans I sent you earlier?”

“Yes. They only pertained to the living and working arrangements, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir. Only unavoidable meetings are currently in place on your work schedule for now, but I’ll make sure other meetings that require you to call in are scheduled on the same days to lessen the back and forth.” I logged into the laptop. “I’ve also been assured by Cassidy that one of the rooms at the cottage is being turned into an office space for you.”

“What about you?”

“I will be perfectly fine at the kitchen table.”

“Nonsense. You need a proper workspace.” He shook his head.

Oh. Was he being kind again?

“And I can’t be shouting up and down the stairs at you whenever I need something.”

Never mind. There was the real reason.

“Eat before your food gets cold.”

“Yes, sir.” I opened the cartons with my food. “Let’s wait and see until we get there. It won’t be long until the letting office will be renovated, so we can always move there.”

He made a noise that could have meant anything. “You should know that I opposed the idea of us living together,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t believe it was a good idea, but I was overruled by my grandfather.”

“Believe me, sir, I have never been under the impression that it was your idea.”

He peered over at me. “You make it sound as though I think living with you is a nightmare.”

“I live with myself. It is a nightmare.”

“Miss St. James—”

“You believe in a work-life separation that living with your secretary doesn’t allow for,” I said, cutting him off. “For what it’s worth, I feel the same way, so don’t dwell on it too much.”

He stared at me for a moment before nodding and turning to his food. We both ate in silence for a few minutes as I tapped away at my laptop with one hand, then when he was done, he took the files relating to us living together.

“If it helps, I’ve stayed at Buckley Cottage before, and it’s more than big enough for us to coexist. Cottage isn’t exactly the right word for it,” he said. “Most people think of little thatched roofs when they think cottage, but this one is more of a rather large house than anything else.”


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