Brazen Bossman: A Hero Club Novel

and early tomorrow morning. I am needed elsewhere tonight, but I can assure you that what you need will be in your inbox tomorrow morning before you arrive.” I hold firm.
“I admire your ability to be openly insubordinate. It’s charming, actually.”
His face is stoic, not showing an ounce of humor, save for the slight twitch of his lips that I could almost call a slight smirk.
“One of my many talents, and I wouldn’t call negotiation insubordination, now, if you don’t have any objections, I will make sure everything is ready to go by the morning… regardless of whether I do them from home or early tomorrow.” I sit back in my seat, crossing my legs.
“Wouldn’t want to keep you from your date,” he hisses, squaring his shoulders.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re so eager, one can only assume it’s because you have a date you need to tend to.”
Is he serious right now?
“Well, first of all, if I did… it wouldn’t be any of your business. Second of all, no, I don’t have a date, unless you count helping sling pasta and pies with my brothers as a date, then sure… hot date central right here.”
He goes to speak, but I interrupt him.
“And third of all, just because a woman has plans and is in a hurry to get to them does not mean she has a date. Women aren’t defined by dates or lack thereof,” I huff and stand. “I’ll have your spreadsheet to you by morning and the executives will have it as well. I’ll have the handouts ready before it begins.”
“Sounds like you need to have a date soon. You’re very high-strung.” He smiles when I glare at him. “Have a good evening, Piper. I expect to see that email tomorrow morning before you arrive.”
The shrill sound of the phone ringing between us on my desk breaks through and I release a breath. He doesn’t move though. He simply stands there with his hands in his pockets.
“Are you going to get that?” He says.
“I’m off the clock. You monopolized my last few minutes.” I pull my purse from the bottom drawer.
“I see.” He bends forward, pulls the phone from the receiver, and places it on my ear, forcing me to answer the call. “You’re salary, not hourly. Say hello.”
I huff loudly. “I’m sorry, but Lennox Publishing is closed at the moment, and…”
He pulls the phone away, clearly reading between the lines that I was about to say something wildly unprofessional to whoever was on the other side of the phone.
“Lennox Publishing, this is Nathanial,” he greets, glaring at me then his posture loosens. “Gabrielle, hello. Yes, actually, I’d rather take this call in private. I’ll transfer you to my line.”
Gabrielle? She calls here sometimes for him if he doesn’t answer his cell. I’ve never asked who she is. I don’t need to know. I’d rather not know of his bevy of beauties who drop to their knees at his beck and call.
He presses the transfer button, leaving it blinking before placing the phone back on the receiver.
“Have a good evening, Piper. Remember… I expect everything to be set before I arrive.”
I salute, like the brat I am. “Yes, sir.”
That seems to make a smile curl onto his lips; at least, I think that’s a smile.
Huh. Who knew The Asshole had it in him.
***
“Are you hungry? I can have Oliver whip you something up real fast. Anything you want,” my mother says, as she takes a seat across from me at the corner booth.
I finish counting out the cash from the till and make note of it on my laptop before tucking it into a deposit bag.
“We have been closed for almost an hour. You think Oliver and Benjamin wouldn’t have a cow if I asked them to dirty up that kitchen?”
“I’m the boss here, Piper. They do as I say,” she jokes with a grin.
“Ain’t that the truth?” I pile my hair into a bun on top of my head. “I’m good, Ma. I stole a few squares of lasagna and put it in a to-go box already. I couldn’t resist.”
Kingston’s Italian Eatery has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Hell, almost every birthday party of my whole life has been held in here.
My father, a second-generation Italian immigrant, set his sights on opening this place when he was sixteen years old. He worked his ass off, and finally, at the age of twenty-five, he did it.
I spent every evening and every weekend here growing up. Serving, helping in the kitchen, cleaning, anything that was needed, my mother, and my twin brothers Benjamin and Oliver, and myself were right here in the trenches.
And we never complained.
We had the type of family I only saw in sitcoms. None of my other friends at school had parents who were still married, let alone ran a business together.
I never saw them fight. I never saw an ounce of frustration.
They were skilled at hiding it… until my father passed away when I was twenty, then the debt, the hard times, the struggles, all of it, came bursting into the limelight.
For the past eight years, my brothers and I have done everything we can to help our mother keep this place afloat. It’s the last piece of my father any of us have left.
It’s not like business isn’t great, because it absolutely is. Any other restaurant with the customer base we have and the history we have should be just fine… but the debt my father left behind is crippling.
While I’d never tell my mother this, I don’t think we can tread water for much longer without drowning.
“Ma!” I hear my brother, Oliver, calling from the kitchen.
I look across the booth at her, and she sits silently with a smile.
“Ma!” he calls again.
“Aren’t you going to answer him?”
“If he needs something, he’ll come talk to me at a normal volume. No need to shout across the damn restaurant.”
My mother is a fifty-nine-year-old spitfire in its purest form. She’s maybe