The Office Party Read online

  We’re only a few days into this year’s annual Office Party.

  Although this is a tradition, in light of recent circumstances, I have decided to change a few things. If you’d like to go home for the rest of the holidays to spend time with your family and friends, please meet with logistics in the lobby so that they can work on the takeoff schedule with my plane(s).

  If you’d like to stay, you are no longer obligated to attend any scheduled meetings.

  This year’s Office Party is officially canceled

  Still, I look forward to seeing you around the estate, if you choose to stay.

  The Rose Ceremony will be held at a later time, in our office in New York.

  Sincerely,

  Garrett West

  C.E.O., West Media International

  P.S. Next year’s event will proceed as planned.

  ~ The entertainment industry never sleeps, but we can make an exception this time ~

  TWENTY

  Savannah

  This Christmas

  Colorado Springs, Colorado

  Garrett and I are sitting on the enclosed balcony of his Presidential Suite. I’m resting my head on his shoulder, and he’s caressing my back as the company employees lose their shit below.

  They’re running across the snowbanks with sparklers, laughing and drinking around bonfires, and I can see a few of them dancing in the carriages before take-off.

  “I think I need to rescind my memo,” Garrett says. “There’s too much employee happiness going around, and as ‘Satan in the flesh,’ I’m not sure how it makes me feel.”

  I laugh. “How many people took you up on the chartered plane offer?”

  “Not a single one.” He smiles. “I think that deep down everyone loves my office party.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure they hate it,” I say. “But it is all-expenses-paid, and without time constraints, it’s more than worth it to stay.”

  “Good point.”

  “I’ve thought of some ‘needs’ that can make this work better for me.” I sit up a bit, watching one of the employees launch fireworks into the sky. “I made a short list.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I need you to be done dating other women.”

  “That’s a given.” Garrett smiles. “I expect the same for you.”

  “I need to be an exception to the “no off days” in December rule.”

  “Also a given,” he says. “I gave you three off days this year.”

  “Real off days, Garrett.” I shake my head. “Ones where I have a choice in what work I do, if I do any at all.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “I need a bigger office, but not just any office. I need it to be significantly bigger than yours, because as your advisor, you need me more than I need you.”

  He raises his eyebrow, looking as if he’s about to strike that down and argue with me, but laughs instead. “I’ll have a designer start drafting ideas in the morning. Anything else?”

  “Sex in the office.”

  “That’s happening the moment we get back.” He smirks. “Good to know your list of needs is rather simple, though. Can I give you mine?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I need you to wear more dresses to the office,” he says. “It turns me on.”

  “I just bought forty new pantsuits.”

  “I’m sure the Salvation Army will love them.” He laughs. “If your office is going to be bigger than mine, I’ll expect an invitation at least seven times a week.”

  “For coffee?’

  “For fucking.”

  I blush. “Is that it?”

  “I also need you to take down all of your mean posts about me on that Boss-Snark message board.”

  “I have no idea what message board you’re talking about.” No idea you knew it existed.

  “I’ll give you seven days.”

  “I’ll take them down in six.”

  “Thank you.” He tilts his head to the side. “You do know that there's a private employee board where they talk shit about you too, right?”

  “What?” I sit up a bit more. “No, there’s not.”

  “Oh, there definitely is.” He smiles. “Your coworkers have been playing both sides for quite some time.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  I wait for him to laugh and tell me that he’s joking, but he doesn’t. Instead, he presses a kiss on my cheek and pulls his phone from his pocket.

  “Here,” he says, tapping the screen. “See for yourself.”

  Boss-Snark Forum 2.0

  Subject: Savannah Grey

  Russ76: Gah! She's just as bad as he is.

  LilyV8: I know, right? But “just as bad” sounds like a compliment. She's worse. I feel like they both attended the same How to be a Fucking Psycho Boss class and she managed to get an A-plus.

  JerryMkting: I honestly don’t think she truly comprehended why I gifted her that How to Deal with a Controlling Boss book last year. O_o

  Heather20: @JerryMkting Ba ha ha ha ha! She probably thought you were giving it to her out of solidarity for how she feels about Mr. West!

  JerryMkting: I knew I should’ve gifted her ‘How to Be a Better Boss’ instead. Damnit.

  Russ76: @ LilyV8, you’ve made me think of something. Do you think they’re sleeping together? Like, have they ever?

  Dale741: OMG, yes! I’m right on time for the new boss snark! And hell yeah, they’ve fucked. There's no way they haven't.

  LilyV8: IDK. Doubt it. They would be far more relaxed and laid back if that were the case. Don't we have an old thread somewhere about this?

  Heather20: Yep. The link is right here. Plenty of pictures of the two of them staying late in the office at night. (Whenever he orders from that expensive takeout place, that’s a night when they’re working late together, FYI. The delivery driver told me that they do that at least three times a week!)

  Dale741: They’re so obsessed with their jobs that they probably discuss projects while they fuck. I bet she spouts off emails whenever she’s in the middle of an orgasm.

  Heather20: @Dale741 I can see it now: “Ohhh goddd Mr West, I’m about to—let’s work on the James filesss!” LMFAO!

  My jaw drops to the floor as I read pages of comments. Almost every person who’s joined me in talking crap about Garrett, is talking shit about me.

  “How fast can you get me a meeting with Human Resources to report coworker harassment?” I ask. “This is bullying.”

  “Take it in stride.” He laughs, taking the phone away. “That's what I do.”

  “It’s fine for us to talk about you behind your back.” I’m still stunned by their betrayal. “You’re the boss.”

  “And you’re the boss’s best friend.” He kisses me in a way that makes me temporarily forget. “Let it go.”

  “Fine…” I sigh. “You mentioned that you bought me a Christmas gift the other day. You wanted me to remind you.”

  “Yes.” He gets up and walks over to his suitcase, pulling out a beautiful blue box. He smooths the wrapping paper on the side before handing it to me. “Merry Christmas, Savannah.”

  “Thank you.” I tug at the ribbon. “Should I open it now, or do you want me to wait?”

  “It’s up to you.”

  I hesitate for all of three seconds before tearing the paper away.

  Inside is a small black box with a tag that reads, What I should’ve given you at the office party in Hawaii.

  “I don’t know if I want to open this now,” I say. “I vividly remember telling you that I hated you at that party.”

  “You did.” He smiles. “You’re halfway there now, though. Might as well open it.”

  I lift the top and see a bracelet with the “C” charm on it. There are three small diamonds aligned in its bend.

  “So, let me guess,” I say. “The C stands for Chief Advisor, which means you’re happy with the job I’m doing, and I’m getting this instead of a rose this year?” I smile, r
unning my fingers against it.

  “No,” he says. “It stands for C.F.O, Chief Financial Officer and it means you deserve it. However, upon further reflection, I’ll have to give you the rest of the letters for your bracelet when we get back to Manhattan.”

  “Why can’t I have them right now?”

  “Because right now,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “You and I are going to spend the rest of this trip in the bedroom, and I’m going to enjoy making you regret ever saying the words, ‘You need me more than I need you.’”

  “I don’t see why.” I smirk. “It’s true.”

  He covers his lips with mine and pushes me against the wall. “Prove it.”

  The End

  EPILOGUE

  Savannah

  Next Christmas

  Manhattan, New York

  Boss-Snark Forum 3.0

  Garrett West AND Savannah Effin Grey-West

  Heather20: So, what do you get when your psychopathic CEO and his batshit crazy CFO decide to get married? Asking for a frustrated friend.

  JerryMkting: I can’t believe we have to deal with BOTH of them at this level. So much for thinking that if they fucked they would chill out.

  Heather20: @JerryMkting Do they fuck? Or do they get orgasms from the work? I’m really starting to believe it’s the latter…

  Russ76: The soon to be “Mrs. West” just came into my office and gave me a compliment on my work. Should I tell her that her panties are tucked into her skirt/there are red marks all over her neck? Like, maybe for old times’ sake when she was one of us?

  Dale741: Nah.

  Heather20: Hell no.

  JerryMkting: Let Lady Satan get exactly what she deserves…

  “So, you’re telling me that we’re never supposed to respond to these?” My blood boils as I read over the newest boss-snark thread, one year later. “They’re being ridiculously mean today.”

  “So?” Garrett laughs and takes the tablet from my hands. “How do you think I felt when I saw you talking shit about me?”

  “Back when I thought you were Satan, I imagine that you were thrilled about it.”

  “No,” he says, pulling me into his lap. “I was quite hurt, actually. I thought, how could this woman hate me so much when she’s literally the same when it comes to work?”

  “I’ve never been anything like you.”

  “So why do they hate you more than me now?” He smiles. “Have you decided to give them a break on this year’s office party since you’re in charge of it now?”

  “Hell no,” I say. “It’s one hundred percent mandatory, and we’re doing everything on the list.”

  THE END, again

  Thank you so much for reading my random, short holiday novella! (If you loved it and want a copy in print, please tap here. If you hated it, thank you for giving it a chance anyway!)

  If you want a little more holiday cheer, sign up for my newsletter (The F.L.Y. List), and I’ll send you a free audiobook of another holiday novella of mine, Late Night Kisses!

  Warning: The heroine is a baker, so listening to this book might make you hungry.

  Author’s Note + Sneak Peek of Reasonable Doubt

  Dear Awesome Reader,

  In 2018, my sister and I took our mom to the Excellence Resort that’s mentioned in this book.

  Of course, no sexy boss in a suit showed up to take us to Hawaii (I wish!), but the memories from that trip are some of my favorites.

  I came up with this book’s idea then, but I was busy writing a separate office romance—Two Weeks Notice, which demanded all my attention.

  I vowed to return to this story someday, but the months slipped by, and I could never find the time.

  Until now.

  I sat down in October of 2020 and willed myself to the finish line, making sure it was everything I wanted it to be.

  For the heroine, I drew inspiration from Whitney Houston (my favorite singer of all time), and for the hero, I drew from Chris Hemsworth. (Because he’s hot. No other reason.) I also did something entirely different for the cover, and I’m now convinced that my cover designer knows how to do magic.

  Every aspect of the project was FUN from beginning to end, and the experience behind it will always mean a lot to me.

  I hope you enjoyed this steamy office romance, and I hope you’re ready for a full-length release!

  Happy Holidays & F.L.Y.

  (Effin Love You)

  Whitney G.

  Untitled

  ANDREW

  New York City is nothing more than a shit-filled wasteland, a dump where failures are forced to drop all their broken dreams and leave them far behind. The flashing lights that shined brightly years ago have lost their luster, and that fresh feeling that once permeated the air—that hopefulness, is long gone.

  Every person I once considered a friend is now an enemy, and the word “trust” has been ripped from my vocabulary. My name and reputation are tarnished thanks to the press, and after reading the headline that The New York Times ran this morning, I’ve decided that tonight will be the last night I ever spend here.

  I can’t deal with the cold sweats and nightmares that jerk me out of my sleep anymore, and as hard as I try to pretend like my heart hasn’t been obliterated, I doubt that the agonizing ache in my chest will ever go away.

  To properly say goodbye, I’ve ordered the best entrées from all my favorite restaurants, watched Death of a Salesman on Broadway, and smoked a Cuban cigar on the Brooklyn Bridge. I’ve also booked the penthouse suite at the Waldorf Astoria, where I’m now leaning back on the bed and threading my fingers through a woman’s hair—groaning as she slides her mouth over my cock.

  Teasingly darting her tongue around my tip, she whispers, “Do you like this?” as she looks up at me.

  I don’t answer. I push her head down and exhale as she presses her lips against my balls, as she covers my cock with her hands and moves them up and down.

  Over the past two hours, I’ve fucked her against the wall, forced her to bend over a chair, and pinned her legs to the mattress while I devoured her pussy.

  It’s been quite fulfilling—fun, but I know this feeling will only last for so long; it never stays. In less than a week, I’ll have to find someone else.

  As she takes me deeper and deeper into her mouth, I tightly tug her hair—tensing as she bobs her head up and down. Pleasure begins to course its way through me, and the muscles in my legs stiffen—forcing me to let go and warn her to pull away.

  She ignores me.

  She grips my knees and sucks faster, letting my cock touch the back of her throat. I give her one last chance to move away, but since her lips remain wrapped around me, she leaves me no choice but to cum in her mouth.

  And then she swallows.

  Every. Last. Drop.

  Impressive…

  Finally pulling away, she licks her lips and leans back against the floor.

  “That was my first time swallowing,” she says. “I did that just for you.”

  “You shouldn’t have.” I stand and zip my pants. “You should’ve saved it for someone else.”

  “Right. Well, um…Do you want to order some dinner? Maybe we could eat it over HBO and go at it again afterwards?”

  I raise my eyebrow, confused.

  This is always the most annoying part, the part when the woman who previously agreed to “One dinner. One night. No repeats.” wants to establish some type of imaginary connection. For whatever reason, she feels like there needs to be some type of closure conversation, some bland reassurance that’ll confirm that what just happened was ‘more than sex,’ and we’ll become friends.

  But it was just sex, and I’m not in need of any friends. Not now, not ever.

  “No, thank you.” I walk over to the mirror on the other side of the room. “I have someplace to be.”

  “At three in the morning? I mean, if you just want to skip the HBO and go for another round instead, I can…”

  I tune out her irr
itating voice and begin to button my shirt. I’ve never spent the night with a woman I met online, and she isn’t going to be the first.

  As I adjust my tie, I look down and spot a tattered pink wallet on the dresser. Picking it up, I flip it open and run my fingers across the name that’s printed onto her license: Sarah Tate.

  Even though I’ve only known this woman for a week, she’s always answered to “Samantha.” She’s also told me—repeatedly, that she works as a nurse at Grace Hospital. Judging by the Wal-Mart employee card that’s hiding behind her license, I’m assuming that part isn’t true either.

  I look over my shoulder, where she’s now sprawled across the bed’s silk sheets. Her creamy colored skin is unmarred and smooth; her bow shaped lips are slightly swollen and puffy.

  Her green eyes meet mine and she slowly sits up, spreading her legs further apart, whispering, “You know you want to stay. Stay…”

  My cock starts to harden—it’s definitely up for another round, but seeing her real name has ruined any chance of that for me. I can’t stand to be around anyone who’s lied to me, even if she does have double D tits and a mouth from heaven.

  I toss the wallet into her lap. “You told me your name was Samantha.”

  “Okay. And?”

  “Your name is Sarah.”

  “So, what?” She shrugs, beckoning me with her hand. “I never give my real name to men I meet on the internet.”

  “You just fuck them in five-star hotel suites?”