Thank you for your continued interest and support. I appreciate it. I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Naughty Boss.

Pleasant reminder: Very short story...

Only two chapters left.

One week of 'sick leave' later...

SAM...THE BOSS

Subject: My Boss

I still can't believe I had sex with my boss last week...

You think he would be mad if I called in sick for a second week?

Your bestie,

Mercedes

PS...Is it sad that I desperately want to have sex with him again?

Subject: Re: My Boss

I still can't believe that you haven't learned to double check who you're sending your emails to...

Yes, 'he' would be quite furious if you called in sick for a second week.

Your boss,

Samuel

PS...It's not sad at all, considering he wants to screw you again as well.

I hit send on my email and put my phone away. Mercedes hadn't shown up to work this morning...no advance notice to Human Resources at all...but I wouldn't dare file a write-up or even so much as verbally reprimand her.

I'd damn near lost my mind over the past week by attempting to do everything she normally did for me. And I was starting to wonder if I really was as terrible of a boss as she said I was.

Even now, as I sat across the table from an author we were attempting to acquire, I was seconds away from saying,

"You know what? I don't feel like being here right now," and asking her to reschedule. And I was very much tempted to drive to Mercedes' house to address that last PS note in her email.

I was also regretting hosting this meeting over dinner instead of at my office. In fact, the only reason I had scheduled a reservation at this five-star restaurant, was because, three months ago I had overheard Mercedes telling someone she wished she could afford to dine here someday.

Of course, I would deny that fact if she ever asked, but since she wasn't even here tonight, I didn't see a point of me being here either.

"So..." The author across from me, a pretty brunette in her mid-thirties cleared her throat. "If I sign with Evans Publishing, I'm going to need some promises from you."

"What type of promises, Miss Bates?"

"Well, I'll need you to actually promote my book."

"We promote all of our books."

"Well, I know that, Mr. Evans. That's why your reputation is so great, but that's only the basic level of promotion. I want you to promise me a movie deal within two years, six figure advances for every future book I write, and I want a world tour at only the best bookstores."

"This is your debut book..."

"I know. And I could totally self publish this thing on amazon and have it live in five seconds. Yet, here I am, taking a risk on you and offering you the next smash New York Times bestseller on a silver platter."

I rolled my eyes and took a long sip of wine. Then I started to change the subject, but she began talking about which actors and actresses she would would prefer to read her audiobook, and which ones we better promise her, so I easily tuned her out her voice.

This was usually the part where Mercedes would step in and tell the author to have realistic expectations. The part where my fraying thread of patience wore even thinner and I'd have to excuse myself to get more coffee.

So without her here, I was minutes away from cracking and telling this woman to shut the hell up and get over herself.

"You know what I mean?" Miss Bates' voice interrupted my thoughts. "Don't you hate when Hollywood turns books into movies, but then they strip away the best parts? I honestly can't sign a deal with you unless you promise that won't happen to me."

"Miss Bates..." I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "The chances of Hollywood taking your debut book...which is a goddamn cookbook filled with catfish recipes...are so fucking low that..."

"I'm sorry I'm so late..."

The sound of Mercedes' voice stopped me from saying another word.

Dressed in a short, black cocktail dress that exposed her thick pretty legs, she looked absolutely stunning.

Her lips were painted in a bright, alluring red, and her hair was piled high on top of her head in a bevy of pretty loose curls.

She walked over to Miss Bates and shook her hand, and then she mouthed "Stop it" to me as she sat down.

"I think what Mr. Evans is trying to say..." She faced Miss Bates. "...is that we should focus on doing all we can in the cooking sphere for this book. Then we can discuss ideas for your next collection of recipes, so we make sure your future catalogue with us is as strong as it can be."

I stared at her and remained silent for the rest of the meeting, appreciating how she smoothly steered the rest of the conversation.

And actually saved the meeting.

By the time we were done, Miss Bates was signing the contract and wishing us both well.

When we all stood up to leave the restaurant, I pressed my hand against the small of Mercedes' back and noticed how she attempted not to react.

But the second Miss Bates was tucked away in her cab, she looked up at me.

"You're welcome." She smirked.

"Thank you. I appreciate it," I said, looking her up and down once more. "You look pretty damn good to have been sick for a week."

She didn't answer. She simply stared at me.

And it took every ounce of restraint not to take her hand and pull her into my car for the night.

"Are you planning on coming to work tomorrow or are you keeping me in suspense?" I asked.

"I'm not sure yet. It depends on how I feel when I wake up, or if I want you to see even more of how much you put me through, when you have to do everything yourself." She held up her hand for the town car and he pulled right in front. "But I must say, I'm happy you finally said those two precious words to me in regards to my work."

"What two words?"

"Thank you."

I said nothing. I just watched as her driver opened the back door and motioned for her to get inside.

Then I slid inside next to her before he could shut the door.

"What the..." She buckled her seatbelt. "What are you doing?"

"Driver, roll up the partition please." I waited for the driver to divide the car. "Mercedes Jones, do you really think that because we've had sex I won't fire you?"

"Samuel Evans," she said, mocking me. "I know you won't fire me and it has nothing to do with the fact that we've slept together."

"We haven't slept together, we've fucked."

"Fine." She lowered her voice. "Fucked. But I know you wouldn't dare fire me."

"Would you like to bet?"

"Not with a man who knows that I'm the best damn assistant he's ever had."

I smiled, unable to come up with a rebuttal for that. And before I could fire back, the driver's voice came over the intercom.

"Miss Jones, are you still going to the AMC in Times Square?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

I shut off the speaker button.

"What's at the AMC in Times Square?" I asked.

"I have a date with a complete and utter gentleman." She looked away from me, as if she was somewhat embarrassed. "It was set up weeks ago. I didn't want to be rude and cancel at the last minute."

"What's his name?"

"None of your business." She turned to face me again. "And unless you want to be a third wheel, you are going to have the driver take you back to your Jaguar while we're in the movies. Because we're going to need the car for dinner later, and no offense, but you're not good dinner company."

"What's his name?" I repeated.

"Daniel," she said. "Would you like to know where he works and how old he is, too?"

"I would. Tell me."

"He's an analyst for ABC studios, and he's twenty-seven. Happy?"

"He's too young for you," I said. "And at that age he doesn't have any real rank in that company. You can do better than that."

"You're referring to yourself?"

"No, I'm the best," I said. "But you can at least do better until you realize that."

She narrowed her eyes at me, but she didn't say anything further.

"And if this is the guy from the email with the subject heading, 'It's Been A Week And He Hasn't Called or Texted Me At All', then you probably already know I'm right. No man in his right mind would wait a week to call you, unless he was your boss, that is."

Her cheeks darkened and her jaw dropped.

"We're here, Miss Jones," her driver said, pulling in front of the theater.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and waited for him to open the door.

But I walked ahead and held the door to the theater for her, following her as she walked towards the ticket counter.

"I'm only picking up two tickets," Mercedes said to me. "You're not really going to follow us into the theater are you?"

"No, but I'll wait until this guy actually appears if you don't mind."

"I do mind."

"Tough shit."

"Fine!"

She picked up her tickets from the clerk and I followed her to a couch in one of the theater's private lounges.

Then she pulled her phone out of her purse and smiled at the screen.

"He says he's in traffic but he'll be here in twenty minutes. I'll be sure to tell you all about our night at work tomorrow since you're so concerned."

"I'm not concerned at all, but thank you for confirming that you're coming to work tomorrow."

"You're not worried he'll compare to you?"

"We've discussed this. No one compares to me." I smiled. "And you know that. You also know that you have no desire to screw him tonight, because I'm willing to bet you're still thinking about screwing me. This is either a pointless date you're too scared to cancel, a ploy to make me jealous...or both."

She sighed and looked down at her phone.

Fifteen minutes passed and Mercedes didn't look up again. She simply refreshed her phone's screen again and again.

I looked at my watch. The movie was due to start in ten minutes and her date was a no-show.

Her phone suddenly buzzed in her lap and she smiled, tapping the screen.

She held it up to her face, her smile fading by the second.

Next, she typed a few words, and then she looked at me.

"He said something came up so..." she paused. "Okay. You can go ahead and make me feel like shit now. I've missed it at work, so now you can apply it to my personal life, I guess."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, tell me how dumb I was to invite a guy who had previously stood me up twice, instead of letting him ask me out. And then you can say how dumb I was for wasting my time getting all dressed up, trying my best to make you jealous..."

I cut her off with a kiss, softly biting her bottom lip until she moaned. Until she stopped attempting to talk and gave in.

"Let's go."

Stay safe!