Mr. Grumpy Boss (Alphalicious Billionaires Boss Book 1) Read online

  Before I even know it, the vows are over, the bride and groom kiss, and then the whole wedding party rushes down the aisle, dancing and bopping away to some peppy, non-traditional wedding song. Half the room empties out after them, probably to do the congratulating, hugging line thing.

  I stand alongside Philippe, immediately missing his warmth when he drops his arm. I’m already nervous about having to hug people I don’t know and pretend like I’m legitimately glad to be here, and then I spot Philippe’s mom rushing our way.

  I tense. It wasn’t showtime before. Now, this is showtime. I brace for awkwardness, but his mom circumvents all that, parts the crowd, rushes down the row of seats, and immediately throws her lavender-scented arms around me and pulls me in for the tightest bear hug I’ve ever had in my life.

  CHAPTER 9

  Philippe

  I nearly groan when I see Sutton’s horrified face as she pulls away from just being squished against my mom’s bosom. She stumbles back, but my mom is all smiles and joy.

  “I’m so glad you could make it! It’s so good to finally meet you!”

  I was banking on the fact that my mom wouldn’t remember she’s met Sutton once when Sutton first became my assistant. It was just a brief moment in passing when Mom came to drop something off for me at work. I remember her seeing Sutton along the way, but I was sure she wouldn’t remember because it’s been a long time. When Mom comes to work now, I have the receptionist intercept her and call me. It might not be overly nice of me, but I’m afraid people in the workplace won’t like big hugs and cheek pinches and gushing monologues.

  “Uh, yes…” Sutton stammers. “Me too. Very glad.”

  “Mom.” I smile softly at her. “You’re going to scare her off. This is new. Remember?”

  “Oh, but it’s just so great that you agreed to come! And I love your dress! Feathers! They’re beautiful. You have an excellent style! We should go shopping together sometime, you and me. Maybe you could help me with my own wardrobe.”

  Sutton gives me a panicked look. She and I both realize, at the same time, that this ploy is probably too successful. I thought my mom would be satisfied with knowing I have a girlfriend and that I’m at least making an attempt to have a personal life. I thought I could make excuses a few weeks after and then tell her we broke up.

  I didn’t actually think me doing that would make my mom even more disappointed than me coming here alone today would have.

  Eff. Me. Sideways.

  Sutton recovers before I do. “I’m afraid I can’t take credit for it. If you want someone to go shopping with, you’ll have to ask your son. He’s the one who picked it out. It was a surprise, actually. He’s the one with the good taste. If it were up to me, I would have shown up here in a cotton maxi dress and an oversized sweater.”

  My mom shoots me a surprised look, but she’s still all happy smiles and bubbliness. My sister just got freaking married. Of course, she’s over the moon at the moment. “Oh! Well, nothing wrong with a good oversized sweater! You’d be beautiful in just about anything, dear.”

  “Mom,” I groan.

  Sutton giggles nervously. “Thank you. Really. You’re too kind. I always thought I was quite plain.”

  “Plain?” Mom scoffs. “Nothing wrong with that either. You have no idea how beautiful understated beauty is, especially right now. If you can leave the house without a cake face on, I applaud your aptitude for independent thought.”

  “Mom! Please!”

  Sutton is smiling though, and not a fake one either. I can tell it’s genuine because I can see it reflected in her eyes. She’s actually amused. Genuinely. “I’ll remember that. I always hated makeup. I actually have really sensitive skin, and it always made me so itchy. I didn’t think it was ever worth it.”

  “We should go get in the line. I want to congratulate my sister,” I put in, hoping to end the conversation before my mom chases away my fake girlfriend.

  “You had better congratulate well.” Mom gives me that disappointed mom look she’s perfected over the years. “She was still upset that you wouldn’t walk her down the aisle.”

  “Mom…” I glance at Sutton, quite obviously indicating that airing family drama in front of the new girlfriend, which Mom was so desperate for me to find, probably isn’t going to help her stick around.

  Sutton saves the day by taking my hand, smiling up at me like I’m her whole world. It makes my heart hitch. It makes my breath stop. And everything freezes. I feel like it’s just us standing here. It surprises the hell out of me, and it scares the hell out of me too. Especially since a part of me wishes the look could be real.

  “Go,” Mom says more gently. “Get in line. It looks like it’s nearing the end anyway.”

  I make a fast exit out the side aisle before she can change her mind. Sutton keeps up with me, so I don’t have to drag her along. She keeps her hand clenched tightly around mine, a silent gesture of support I appreciate the hell out of. Only Sutton wouldn’t ask me why I wasn’t in the wedding party. Why I didn’t walk my sister down the aisle. Only Sutton wouldn’t dig and dig and dig into the parts I’m not ready to talk about with anyone.

  I feel like I have to give her something, so near the back of the line that is actually quite short by now, I bend my head and whisper near her ear. “I hate public things. I told my sister if I had to stand up there, I’d puke for sure. I wasn’t kidding. As for the rest, I—I’m not my dad. It didn’t feel right pretending. And I would have probably puked all over her dress with everyone staring at me. She knows me. She might have been disappointed, but she gets it.”

  Sutton’s brows lift up just a fraction. “But you lead board meetings all the time. Talk with clients.”

  “I also don’t do presentations or speak to audiences. Ever.”

  “Yeah, I know. I see that now. Thank goodness I’ve never had to prepare a motivational speech for you. Not that I could. I’m actually quite pessimistic about most things.”

  “You?”

  The very tiny, very fine lines bracketing her eyes crinkle when she wrinkles her nose up at me. “Yes, me. Does it surprise you?”

  Does it? I realize that for a person I’ve worked with closely for a very long time, I hardly know anything about Sutton at all. I know important details, like how she lives with her grandmother and is willing to lick the cheese off someone else’s pizza. I also know what her pussy tastes like…

  Shit. Now my cock is rock hard, and even though my jeans are tight, it only goes so far to hide what’s going on. I try and think about something horrible and gross to deflate it, but nothing works. The line moves, and I’m getting closer and closer to the wedding party. And my sister. I cannot hug my sister with a fucking boner.

  Panic sets in. Sutton is still holding my hand. Dutifully. Still, it’s warm. Tight. Which makes me think about something else that is warm and tight. I have a pretty bad memory, but as for how she tasted, how she felt, the sounds she made, and her delicious scent, those are ingrained in my mind for life, which isn’t helping. At all.

  “Make an excuse for me.” I rip my hand from Sutton’s. “I—tell my sister I’ll catch up with her in a bit. I just…I have to…I have to uh—go to the bathroom. Like right now.”

  She stares blankly back at me. Okay, yeah, so it’s not normal to just blurt that out, but then again, I did just tell her about the way I get nervous and my penchant for throwing up when stuff like that happens or peeing my pants, as my grade three choral speaking has proven.

  “Okay.” She looks terrified at having to face the hug line alone.

  “I’m sorry. This is…it’s urgent.”

  “Are you okay? Philippe?”

  Great. Now Sutton is looking at me like I’m about to have another panic attack or worse. I hate the frantic concern flooding her face. “Yeah.” I bend down and brush a quick kiss over her temple, half to throw her off guard, half to assure her. “I’m good. Just really do have to pee.”

  “Erm…okay…”

/>   I make a mad dash for the exit, walking in the exact opposite direction of the bridal party. I feel terrible about abandoning Sutton, but I cannot, absolutely cannot freaking stand in that line with a noticeable freaking erection.

  I head down the hallway with the bathroom sign at the top and burst into the men’s. Thank god no one is in there at the moment. It’s a big bathroom. There are four stalls, so I lock myself into the first one and lean against the wall.

  Oddly and ironically enough, there were words engraved across the door of the stall. Have you done something today that would make someone proud?

  No. No, I have not. I’ve done the exact opposite. I glare down at my jeans. They’re not skintight, but they’re tight enough to show the bulge of my hard dick. Eff you, you bastard. Why! Why now! Why won’t you just listen to me? Perhaps the more pressing question is, why do I have a hard-on for my fake girlfriend? For my secretary? Oh, yes, that’s right. Something about the little incident that never happened. When I ate her perfect pussy while she was propped up on my bathroom counter with her heels pressed into my back.

  Fuuuuuuuuuuucccccckkkkkkkkkkk.

  At this rate, I’m never going to be able to get out of here.

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. It doesn’t help. And another. Nothing is going to help. I can’t just whip off my jacket and wrap it around my damn waist, but I can’t hide in here forever either. Maybe I can find a freaking closet to hide in and hope the boner from hell deflates.

  My sister is probably so pissed right now.

  Sutton is probably pissed.

  My mom is going to be livid when she finds out I begged off from congratulating my sister. Jesus. It’s not like I can just tell them what happened. By the way, I popped a boner in line thinking about my fake girlfriend’s box, which is absolutely terrific in every way in case you were wondering, and I had to hide out here for a bit. Sorry I missed out on giving you a hug. Sorry I’m a huge, epic failure as a son. Sorry. Just…sorry.

  I can almost hear the sound of Sutton rolling her eyes. She’d tell me my thoughts get dark fast. That I shouldn’t hate on myself so much. That these things happen.

  “Philippe?”

  I blink. It’s weird, but I swear I just heard Sutton’s voice for real. This is some creepy, paranormal shit going on right here.

  “Philippe? Are you in here? I’m sorry if anyone else is. Seriously. Very sorry.”

  Her voice echoes through the empty bathroom. I scramble out of the stall and find her standing just inside the door. When she sees me, she deftly turns and calmly clicks the lock into place. Now, I really hope no one has a poop emergency because they are going to be seriously screwed. I’m sure there are other bathrooms, but still.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “Me?” She actually points at herself in confusion. “What are you doing in here? I came to make sure you were okay. I thought I saw you head this way. I…sorry. I was worried.”

  “That I was having a full-on meltdown in here?”

  “Kind of.” She holds my gaze, unafraid to let me see her concern, but also not scared to stare me down. She has a right to be worried, her eyes tell me. I basically just went MIA on her while we were in line. “So…are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay. Just need a minute. I can’t…I can’t leave here until…” My face heats up as I slowly glance down. Of all the times I’ve ever wished I could disappear, this might be the ultimate time.

  “Oh,” Sutton exclaims breathlessly when her eyes glance down. “That was the problem?”

  “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

  “Jesus. I—I see. You’re right. You couldn’t very well press up against anyone with that going on.”

  “I know.” I can’t believe I’m actually having this conversation. With. My. Secretary. Who is not my girlfriend. Who barely knows me. And who actually thinks I’m a bit of an epic Grump.

  “Well…what…will it go away? Can you do something about it?”

  “Like what?!”

  “I don’t know! Like—uh—take care of it.”

  “We’re in a public bathroom,” I grind out. “And I don’t think it would actually help.”

  “Who was it?” Sutton’s frowning at me now. There’s something different in her eyes. Her tone is biting, and she’s pissed off. But why, I have no idea. I kind of get it. But no, it’s not that I left her alone in the hugging line or just pointed out I have a massive boner problem. It’s something else.

  “Who was what?”

  “Who…who is responsible for that? Because if she’s here, you should have just grown a pair and asked her to be your real girlfriend. Then you would have solved a shit ton of problems. Asking me…this was just stupid. And it’s insulting. I don’t care if this is fake or not, it’s rancid insulting. And after my Granny baked you cookies! If you wanted to get me back for the journal, you could have just said so. You didn’t need to publicly humiliate me by rubbing my face in—”

  “You think…” I trail off because no, it’s too ridiculous. She couldn’t actually be jealous. But then I slowly realize it’s exactly what she is. “You’re…are you actually jealous?”

  “No!” Sutton fumes. “Of course not. I just don’t like being made into a massive joke in front of, like, two hundred people or so.”

  Her nostrils flare. I want to wither. How the hell am I supposed to deal with this? And why the hell is this freaking boner from hell not deflating?

  “I wasn’t trying to humiliate you. I was…I wasn’t thinking about anyone else, okay? I was thinking about you.”

  “Me?” she squeaks. “Me!”

  “Yes. About the thing that didn’t happen. I’m sorry. I was just standing there holding your hand, and you smelled good, and you’re beautiful, and it just—I started thinking about it. All of it. How you tasted. How you felt. Those moans you made. I. Couldn’t. Help. It.”

  Sutton’s mouth drops open. My mouth drops too. I can’t believe I just admitted that. Her breathing comes in shallow gasps, and I take a series of deep breaths, trying to get oxygen to my brain. I’m really hoping the blood will start flowing there instead of my aching dick.

  “Jesus, Philippe.”

  “Nope. Just Philippe. Not even close to saintly, never mind godly.”

  Sutton huffs. Her eyes lower back down. Back up to my face. Then drop back down again. Her cheeks are pink when she looks up again. “Well? What are we going to do?”

  “Wait.”

  “Wait? I could try saying something mean to you.”

  “Trust me, that’s not going to work.”

  “What else can we do?”

  “I don’t know. Cut it off and throw the damn thing in a bucket of ice water.”

  There’s a beat of silence, a horrible, awkward pause, and then Sutton throws back her head and starts laughing. I’ve never seen her laugh like this. She just laughs and laughs. She laughs so hard that she has to set a hand on her stomach, and tears form in her eyes. It’s not funny, but I can’t help it. I have to laugh too. I laugh, just like how she does—with abandon. I laugh like I can’t remember doing in years. Until my stomach aches too.

  “Why did you wear such tight jeans?” She gasps between peals of laughter.

  “The tightness of the pants doesn’t matter. Loose-fitting ones would have been worse. There would have been an actual tent.”

  That sets her off, and she starts laughing again. God, I love the sound of it. I match her laugh for laugh. I realize how crazy we must look standing in here, snorting and crying with laugher, the door locked behind us.

  Suddenly, I don’t care. It feels good. It feels good to laugh, to be alive. I haven’t actually realized that in years. Haven’t been thankful. I buried myself in just about everything there was besides actual living.

  When I glance down, I sigh with relief. Apparently, the body has a hard time doing two things at once because, after all that gut-busting laughter, the bulge is gone.

  “If it happens
again,” Sutton whispers, noticing what I’m noticing, “Then just grab me and shove me in front of you. Or sit down at a table and pull your chair up under. Either way, let me help you. I do it for a living. I’d like to think I’m fairly decent at my job.”

  I can think of a few ways she could help me, and none of them are any less than R-rated. I quickly think about something else, so I don’t have the same problem again. Usually, I can control myself. I don’t know what happened back there. It’s a first for me. I think, ever. Public boners aren’t exactly a thing I have a problem with.

  “You are good at your job.” I think this is the first time I’ve ever told her.

  And I mean it. I can tell she knows I do because her forehead crinkles up just a little, and her lips part in surprise. She recovers fast and unlocks the door. Opening it, she turns back to me.

  “Shall we? You have a sister to go and congratulate.

  CHAPTER 10

  Sutton

  As the evening progresses, I can sympathize with Philippe. My body isn’t exactly following my commands. In fact, it’s gone completely rogue. My hormones are rioting, and I think the rest of me is just as traitorous. If I were a guy, I think I’d be sporting a pretty big hard-on too. Just saying. I’m surprised my nipples haven’t carved a hole through this dress yet. Also, just saying.

  The dinner was surprisingly good, the speeches were even tolerable, and Philippe has been in a decent mood all evening. I can count the number of times I’ve seen him look truly happy, with just one hand. On one finger. Tonight.

  His sister didn’t seem at all put out when we went together to talk to her. Philippe even tolerated the family photos he had to participate in, and his mom walked around with a huge smile all day. All in all, I’d count the evening as a win.

  Soon, the dance starts, led by the bride and groom, then the wedding party, then Philippe dances with his mom. I enjoy watching him. He’s so gentle with his mom as he guides her around the other couples dancing so freely and effortlessly.