I Owed My Boss Ten Pairs of Boxers

The heat in the conference room was cranked all the way up.

But it still couldn't stop the chill racing from my feet to the top of my head.

The man at the head of the table was my roommate of three months, Nathan Prescott.

Today, he was dressed in a perfectly fitted designer suit.

Gold-rimmed glasses rested on his nose. He looked calm and composed, with an air of authority that made him hard to approach.

He was nothing like the man I'd seen last night. Last night, he'd been in SpongeBob pajamas, pinned helpless beneath me.

I'd had too much to drink.

The walls in our apartment were thin, and he'd been watching financial news late at night with the volume turned way up.

Drunk and irritated, I'd marched out of my room to confront him.

Somehow, things had gotten physical.

I shoved him onto the couch and, just to shut him up, grabbed his... pants and ripped them.

His boxers didn't survive either.

And now, there he was at the head of the table, staring at me with those dark, unreadable eyes. He looked as calm as ever.

I'm so dead.

My job. My career. My top-seller bonus. I'm going to lose everything.

"Claire."

My supervisor, Derek Lawson, nudged my arm.

"You're up. It's time for your annual report."

I got to my feet, my whole body stiff. Dozens of eyes turned toward me.

Nathan's included.

I took a deep breath and opened my slides.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I'm Claire Bennett from Sales..."

I was the top salesperson, and I wasn't about to lose my nerve now. I pushed everything else out of my mind and went through my report, point by point.

Halfway through, Sandra Cole raised her hand.

She was sitting across from me, and she'd been after my spot for months.

"Boss, I have a question."

Sandra's voice had never sounded more annoying.

"Claire's report shows a growth rate of 300 percent. I have some doubts about those numbers."

She was basically accusing me of faking my results in front of everyone.

Several people immediately looked interested, clearly waiting for some drama.

I tightened my grip on the clicker. For a moment, Nathan and his boxers completely slipped my mind.

Who cares about a man when my bonus is at stake?

"Sandra, every number in my report can be checked in the company system. Are you questioning the system, or are you questioning me?"

"That's not what I meant." Sandra pouted, playing the victim.

"I just find it hard to believe. She's only been here a year, and she's already pulling numbers like these. Maybe she had a little... help?"

I knew exactly what she was implying. She thought I'd slept my way to the top.

Whispers spread through the room.

My face burned with anger. I opened my mouth to fire back, but Nathan spoke first.

"I've reviewed the data. Everything checks out."

The room went silent.

Sandra's expression changed.

Nathan tapped his fingers lightly against the table.

"In sales, results are what matter. As for anything else... I don't care."

He didn't even look at Sandra. He just tipped his chin at me.

"Continue."

I froze.

Did he just defend me? Why?

Is he trying to make me lower my guard before getting even with me?

My head was a mess, but I somehow finished the rest of my presentation.

When the meeting ended, everyone began filing out.

I deliberately took my time packing up. I wanted everyone else to leave first. Unfortunately, Nathan was sitting right beside the only way out.

Even worse, he didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. My scalp prickled. There was no avoiding him. I picked up my things, bit the bullet, and headed for the door.

As I passed him, I was careful not to make a sound.

"Claire."

I froze and stopped in my tracks, trying my best not to sound nervous.

"Yes, boss?"

"Pick up some groceries on your way home tonight. The fridge is empty."

I whipped around, only to meet his perfectly calm gaze.

A few colleagues hadn't left yet, and they'd heard every word. They all turned to us, their eyes wide with shock and curiosity.

Great. There goes my reputation.