Boss On Notice (E-Book)

The Lord Brothers of Manhattan

1 - Crossing The Line

2 - A Fake Love Deal

3 - Boss On Notice

BOSS ON NOTICE: THE LORD BROTHERS OF MANHATTAN - STANDALONE

CHAPTER 1

"Ding, ding, dum, dum…"

I awake with a start, and then my focus snaps toward my
ringing cell phone.

"Ah…" I massage my temples, my head feeling as
though it's filled with cement. It sinks deeper into my pillow. Last night, I
spent time with my favorite cousin, Xena, and some friends I hadn't seen in
ages. We danced. We drank. We danced some more. I had a fantastic time—the
dull, throbbing headache I'm experiencing is undeniable evidence of that.

But as I lie here in my supremely comfortable bed, a
nagging feeling tells me something is amiss. I'm not supposed to be nestled in
bed still; the room is awash with too much daylight. I had planned to wake up
extra early this morning to arrive at the office and tackle something
important.

What was it?

What time is it now?

My phone is chiming for the fourth time. It will ring
eight times before sending the caller to voicemail. Squinting, I attempt to
decipher the screen.

"Damn it," I mutter under my breath.

The caller is Orion Lord, my boss. The time displayed at
the top of the screen stares back at me, relentless.

I wince as I force myself into a sitting position. It's
11:00 a.m. My plan had been to be at the office three hours ago—and suddenly, I
remember.

The letter.

My heart tightens in a sudden panic. But then, relief
washes over me as I recall Orion never arrives before noon on Fridays. So, I
have nothing to worry about.

Feeling slightly more relaxed by the seventh chime, I
snatch my cell phone from the nightstand, leaping to my feet. "Good
morning, Orion," I greet, injecting an extra layer of cheer into my voice
to create the illusion of working diligently at my desk.

"I've been calling you all night and this
morning." His tone implies I've committed an unspeakable sin by not
answering his calls. It was indeed unusual of me to disregard his after-hours
interruptions. Yesterday afternoon, Xena convinced me to switch my cell phone
to 'Do Not Disturb' mode and to leave the office before 5:00 p.m. I took it off
silent before bed but forgot to set my alarm. My phone's ringing had failed to
wake me up this morning as I was deeply asleep. Now, I can't risk him reaching
the office before I do.

"Mm-hmm. Well, you've found me now." I laugh, a
tad too high-pitched, then freeze midmotion. "Where are you?"

Orion usually doesn't pause for this long. He's the type
of man who exudes an almost irritating level of confidence. It's as if he never
has to deliberate over what to say or do because he views second-guessing
himself as a weakness. Therefore, this pause signifies something is
unquestionably off. I leap out of bed, moving quickly.

"On my way into the office," he finally says.

"On my way into the office," he finally says.

I move swiftly towards my closet, a bona fide walk-in in
the heart of New York City. I reside in corporate housing—a perk typically
reserved for high-ranking executives. The company I work for, owned by Orion's
family, has provided me with an executive package to serve as his assistant. I
earn every penny of it, given that Orion is exceedingly challenging to work
for. The substantial compensation package is why I never express my grievances
about him directly, even when he assigns me the most menial tasks.

"Okay!" I respond with exaggerated cheerfulness
as I slip a navy blue shift dress off its hanger. "I'll see you
soon."

I wait for him to reply. Orion isn't the type to end a
call without a farewell or a 'see you soon' or even a 'thank you'. Despite
being a challenging and often frustrating boss, he has impeccable manners and
persuasive charm.

"By the way, you didn't send me my calendar
yesterday," he remarks.

If I had the luxury of time, I'd likely freeze in place,
but I don't. Instead, I hurriedly stuff my feet into my running shoes. "I
know. Sorry. The power went out around four-thirty."

"Which is why I was calling you."

I hastily pop three pieces of gum in my mouth—I can't
brush my teeth since he'd hear the running water. "I know... Sorry."
But I'm not, not really.

"Don't worry. I got it."

Now I freeze, my satchel halfway slung over my shoulder.
"You did?"

No…

Please, God, no.

"Yes," he confirms.