Shameless Boss

  Shameless Boss

  Badder Bosses, Book 2

  by Liz Fox

  Copyright © 2020 by Liz Fox

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Portions of this book are works of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Cassidy Taylor

  Liz Fox

  Lizfoxauthor.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  Join Me!

  Also by Liz Fox

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Amara

  “What do you mean, you don’t have the cake?” I hiss into my phone. It’s my son’s sixth birthday today. I planned a party at the park this evening with all his friends from school. When his father, my ex, volunteered to bring the cake, it seemed like a small enough contribution considering his absence the last few years.

  “I mean, I don’t have a cake.” The nonchalance in Justin’s tone drives me up the wall.

  “The birthday cake was your only responsibility. I took care of everything else.” I pace back and forth in my new office. “The party is only four hours away. How am I supposed to find a superhero cake before it starts?”

  “Not my problem,” he says. I swear, if I could reach through the phone and punch him, I’d do it right now. “And I probably won’t make it to the party either.”

  “Don’t bother showing up unless you bring a big-ass cake with you.” I hang up on him. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take a deep breath. It takes effort, but I manage to stop the tears before they gain traction.

  Justin is such a bastard. I should never have trusted with him something so important.

  Staring out my office window, I reflect on how different Justin is from my new boss, Patrick Cunningham.

  When I first met Patrick, he looked like he’d been born to wear a suit. I was introduced to him with a few other new hires. When I accepted the position, I hadn’t realized I’d be working for someone who looked like their side job was an Olympic athlete. Wide shoulders, strong jaw, and smooth dark skin.

  He might be a few years younger than me, but by the time the introduction ended, I felt like I might have been born to help him take the suit off.

  Contrast that with Justin, and it’s like black and white—almost literally. In college, Justin seemed like such a good guy. He played guitar, he practiced painting, he marched in protests.

  After a few years together, I realized that while Justin hoped the world would be a nicer, sweeter place, he’d rather not put any real work into making it happen. When I told him we were going to have a baby, he disappeared like a fart in the wind.

  And like a chronic gastrointestinal issue, he showed up again a few weeks ago, claiming he wanted to be a better father. Stupid me, I wanted to give him a chance. Now, I have to find a cake in less than four hours.

  Shit. I’ve only been at this job for two weeks. I hate to ask for time off early, but I have to fix this. Josiah deserves to have a great birthday party. Family comes first. It’s a lesson I learned powerfully in the year since my parents passed away. You never know what life will bring you, so you have to make the most of the opportunities to celebrate and make happy memories with the people you love.

  But first, it’s time to vent a little to my girlfriends. I open up the group chat.

  Me: Justin just called. He’s flaking on the cake.

  Helena: Are you kidding me?

  Quinn: What are you going to do?

  Helena: Want me to make a public service announcement that he’s a lame ass bastard of a father?

  Me: @helena, I’ll think about it. ( •̀ᴗ•́ )و ̑̑ Gonna try to get the afternoon off and find something.

  Miriam: Let us know if we can help.
  Me: Thanks. Wish me luck.

  With another deep breath, I leave my office and head toward my supervisor’s space. When I started, Chad told me he picked the office where he could keep the best eye on people. I’ve had managers like that before. The kind that anticipate their employees doing the worst possible job. Ironically, it’s that attitude that lowers morale and productivity.

  I know I’m going to take some flack for requesting time off on a Friday, but it’s too important. It’s not my fault—or Josiah’s—that his dad is an unreliable asshole.

  Knocking on the doorframe, I wait for Chad to acknowledge me. He’s a relatively attractive white man in his mid-forties. This job is probably as far as he’ll go in his career, and he punishes the people below him for his own mediocrity.

  “Yes, Amara?” he asks without looking at me, apparently too busy doodling on his notepad.

  “Hello, sir. Thank you. If possible, I’d like to get the rest of the afternoon off for a personal emergency.”

  He slowly raises his gaze to look at me, disbelief clear on his face. “You’ve been working here for less than two weeks, and you want to go home early on a Friday afternoon. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.” I don’t owe him an explanation, but maybe he’ll sympathize with me if he hears the whole story. “It’s my son’s sixth birthday. His father—my ex—was supposed to bring the cake, but he just called me and flaked.”

  Hearing myself get worked up again, I stop and take a breath.

  Chad takes the opportunity to jump in. “You’re saying your emergency is a birthday cake? There isn’t anyone else in your life who could take care of this?”

  “No, sir. It’s just me and my son.”

  “Listen, Amora.” His condescension couldn’t be more obvious.

  “It’s Amara,” I correct him.

  “Sure, whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “What kind of precedent would I set if I let every Tom, Dick, or Harry take time off every time they planned irresponsibly?”

  I bite my tongue to keep my furious response in check. But it seems I only have control over one of my physical functions because tears start rolling down my cheeks.

  Tom, Dick, and Harry aren’t single moms. Hell, they aren’t even women. They never had to work against stereotypes and prejudice to achieve some kind of success in a man’s world. I worked my ass off to earn my MBA while raising a kid on my own, supporting us with jobs, loans, and sleepless nights.

  Thankfully, I’d finished my degree before my parents passed away last year. But dealing with the grief of their loss pushed my long-term goals back a bit.

  Things have not been easy. But I’ve worked so hard, trying to do my best for myself and Josiah. Trying to be a good mom and give him the kind of life he deserves. It’s been all I could do to keep going in the face of pain, loneliness, and plain old fear.

  But I’ve made it. I’ve gotten this far. And I’m not going to let the smug bastard in front of me stop me from celebrating the most important person in my life.

  I open my mouth to say I don’t know what, when I’m interrupted by a deep, commanding voice.

  “What’s going on?”

  Turning, I see Patrick, the CEO of the company, standing just behind me. I step to the side, watching as Chad scrambles to his feet. Patrick addresses both of us, and I swear I’m about to be fired by the most attractive man I’ve ever met in per
son. “Is there a problem here?”

  Chapter 2

  Patrick

  “Is there a problem here?” It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes at the way Chad scrambles to his feet. He’s always been a bit of an ass. Don’t get me wrong, he’s great with numbers, but I might need to give him a lateral promotion where he doesn’t have to interact with people.

  Having heard the entire interaction with Amara, I’m pretty sure that “promotion” will happen sooner than later. He ripped into her. Made her feel pathetic and small. That isn’t how I want the company to run.

  When they first started, my mom and dad put everything on the line to start their own restaurant, make their own fortune. I don’t take their hard work for granted, especially when I’m the one who benefited the most when they passed it along. They’ve been there for me every step of the way. Their support is a key reason why we’ve been so successful since I took over.

  It’s the same kind of support I see Amara trying to give her son. But it sounds like she doesn’t have a lot of help. With my history, I’d have to be an asshole to ignore her request.

  “Amora has only been working here for two weeks and she’s already requesting time off for ‘personal reasons.’” Chad tries to explain.

  I’m aware she’s only been here two weeks. The day I met her is burned into my memory. She stood with the other new hires wearing a grey leather pencil skirt and a fitted black blouse that showcased her gorgeous curves. Her curly black hair, grey eyes, and smooth, tawny skin certainly made an impression. Combine that with her obvious intelligence and drive, and you have a woman I’m determined to get to know better.

  Amara is shorter than me. I’ve always liked that in a woman. It allows me to tower over her and take charge in every way possible. My muscular body contrasts beautifully with her plump softness, and I can’t stop thinking about how my skin would look pressed against hers.

  I’ve been called dominating both in the bedroom and by my employees, but I’ve never believed myself to be unkind. I enjoy taking what’s mine, what I desire and crave, but not to destroy it as I conquer it.

  Right now, that means taking care of this situation. At Chad’s comments, Amara’s head bows like she’s trying to hide. Damn him. She has no reason to feel ashamed.

  “First, I believe her name is Amara, not Amora.” From the corner of my eyes, I see her head lift, her eyes studying me. “Second, I overheard the entire conversation. I think her son’s birthday cake qualifies as a personal emergency. Make sure to approve paid time off for the rest of the afternoon.”

  I direct my attention to Amara. “I think I might be able to help with your cake problem. If you’ll please come with me.” With my hand on her lower back, I guide her out of Chad’s office.

  As we walk back to her office, I notice she’s wearing a tight green top tucked into a pair of high-waisted black pants. There is something so damn sexy about a woman who knows how to dress professionally. With her hips swaying in front of me, I want to bite my knuckles and groan.

  But it’s my turn to be professional. Plus, I want to get to know the woman and hopefully help her out, not send her running.

  In her office, she turns to face me, leaning against her desk with her arms crossed protectively in front of her.

  “You said you could help with the cake?” she asks tentatively.

  “Have you heard of Just Desserts?”

  “Just Desserts with Cleo? The one who hosted that benefit for single mothers that was all over the news last year. Yeah, I’ve heard of her. I’d love to try some of her pastries, but I could never afford it.”

  “That’s her,” I confirm. “We do a lot of catering with Just Desserts, and I’m sure if I gave her a call, she’d be able to work something out.”

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I scroll through my contacts. “What kind of cake did you need?”

  “A superhero cake for at least fifteen kids and ten adults. Chocolate is his favorite.”

  Cleo answers, and within ten minutes, we have everything set for her son to have the best cake in the city at his birthday party. As Amara gets ready to leave, I make one more call, this time to my assistant, canceling my own plans for the rest of the day.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” I ask. Amara freezes with her purse halfway closed. “I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly for you and your son today.”

  “Um, sure. Okay.” And just like that, my predatory side engages. She’s beautiful, smart, and she’s about to see what it’s like to be shamelessly pursued. Because right now I’ve decided that Amara Sage is going to be mine.

  ◆◆◆

  The party goes off without a hitch. Josiah and a dozen of his friends from school run around the park on a sugar high times ten. Amara introduces me to the kids as her boss and to her friends and brother Lincoln as the guy who saved the day.

  Cleo steps up in a big way. Everyone agrees the cake is epic, not just in looks but in taste. When Amara moans over her first bite, I have to adjust my jacket to hide my thickening length. Next time, I'm determined to be the one making her moan in pleasure.

  Gradually, the party dies down, parents leave with their kids, and it’s just Amara, Josiah, her friends, and myself cleaning up. I find myself next to Josiah, picking up dirty paper plates and throwing them in the bin while he sneaks a finger into the frosting on the leftover cake.

  “You’re my mom’s boss?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I reply.

  “Thank you for the action figure.” He looks at me with happy brown eyes that scrunch up in concern a moment later. “Should I call you Mr. Cunningham?”

  “You can call me Pat, if you like. That’s what my closest friends call me.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Pat,” he says. “Do you like superheroes?”

  “I do like superheroes.” Pausing in my cleaning, I crouch down beside him to get at his level. “Want to know a secret?”

  He nods enthusiastically.

  I lean forward conspiratorially. “I have that same action figure at home.”

  “You do?” He looks surprised, like he didn’t think an old man like me would play with action figures.

  “Yep, and a few more too.” I nod with all seriousness.

  “That’s so cool.”

  We’re interrupted when Amara claps her hands, getting our attention. “We’re all cleaned up. We’ve got everything loaded and ready to go. Josiah, go get in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Okay, Mom.” He sprints toward the car, the way kids do. Why walk when you can run?

  Amara approaches me with a polite smile. I can already sense the distance she’s trying to put between us.

  “Thank you so much for your help today, Mr. Cunningham. Josiah would have been devastated without a cake, and instead, he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.” She looks over to her car with a true smile, her eyes glistening. Josiah sees us through the back window and waves excitedly. We both wave back. It’s impossible not to respond to such innocent joy.

  Gathering herself, she turns back to me. “I appreciate everything you’ve done. Do I need to turn in some kind of receipt to the company or fill out a form—”

  “Amara,” I interrupt. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m just glad I could be here for you and your son.” Taking a step to close the distance between us, I continue, “You deserve to be cared for.”

  Her eyes widen and she takes a shuddering breath before stepping back. “Yes, well. You’re a very sweet young man, I mean…uh...” She frowns, her succulent lips pursing. “You’re a great boss. Thank you again. I’ll see you at the office next week.”

  Oh, she’ll be seeing a lot more of me. After spending the afternoon and evening with her, I can definitely say that Amara is the woman for me. She is intelligent, dedicated to her son, and hardworking. Hell, she has to be, earning her degree as a single mom and then building a life she can be proud of.

  Take all that and the sizzling chemistry between us
, and you can bet it’s only a matter of time before she becomes mine.

  Chapter 3

  Amara

  “Good morning, J-Baby!” Sitting on the side of my son’s bed, I lightly tickle him through the comforter. This is my favorite time of day, this and bedtime. Just the two of us, no stress or worries. My son in his superhero pajamas, warm and sweet from a good night’s sleep.

  “Mommmm!” He squirms and giggles, only halfway trying to escape. After a minute or so, he finally admits defeat. “You win!”

  I take my victory prize, pressing kisses all over his soft cheeks. My actions inspire another round of giggles for both of us.

  “It’s time to wake up and get ready for school, big boy.” Ruffling his curly hair, I stand up and walk to the door leading to the hallway. “Get dressed and come to the kitchen. Cereal is on the table. If I don’t see you in five minutes, I’m coming back for round two.”

  “Okay, Mom. I hear you.”

  I can’t help but smile at his grumbling.

  Thirty minutes later, I walk with him into the local elementary school.

  “Hello, Josiah. Hello Ms. Sage.” His teacher greets us as soon as we enter the building.

  “Be good, okay? Shannon will be here to pick you up after school and take you to the Hangout.”

  “I remember, Mom.” He sighs like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders.

  “Good. I’ll pick you up when I’m off work.” With one last kiss on his forehead, I leave for work while he joins his class.

  ◆◆◆

  Once I’m at the office, it’s hard to concentrate. I haven’t stopped thinking about Patrick since last Friday. Talk about making an impression. Not only does he look like he should be modeling men’s underwear, but he also swooped in like Prince Charming to save Josiah’s birthday.

  Too bad he’s younger than me.

  And my boss.

  Which doesn’t stop me from appreciating the way he looks when he enters my office later that day. The sleeves of his pale green shirt are rolled up, exposing sinewed forearms. His charcoal grey slacks fit temptingly across his narrow, tight waist.