My Favorite Boss Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
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BANE

The next morning, I opened my front door, freezing when I saw my mother on the other side of it. She wasn’t preparing to knock—she was simply there.

Like a vulture waiting until their meal least expected to be pounced on.

She crossed her arms as if to say “Gotcha.” Obviously, she had learned trying to get around Myers was a fail, so she lay in wait for me where I least expected. My home.

I’d be impressed if it weren’t for it being my mother.

“I don’t have time for you this morning. I have a meeting,” I said, attempting to brush past her.

“I’m not taking no for an answer this time,” she snapped, pushing past me into my condo.

I wasn’t leaving her alone in my condo, so I glanced at my watch. “You have ten minutes, Mother. I have a huge presentation for my company this morning.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your little plants and flowers,” she huffed.

Her snide remark hit its intended target. She thought I played in the dirt and what I did was meaningless. It still bothered me what she thought, although I never allowed her to see my reaction.

“What do you want?”

“There is a function a week Friday⁠—”

“No,” I snapped.

“Lisa Summers will be there. She is the sort of woman you need to set you on the right path.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Mother, I am not attending. Nor am I interested in meeting one of your socialites to improve my so-called image. I like my life. I love my career.”

“It’s nothing. You’re nothing!” she cried. “Your brother⁠—”

Again, I cut her off. “Stepbrother. And he is a clone of you. Heartless and hungry for power and status.” I shook my head. “Do you realize that I could buy and sell you? All of you?”

She scoffed. “I doubt that.”

I smirked, liking the slight look of doubt on her face. “The money left in my trust fund was invested and tripled. Then again. And again. I make a great living ‘playing in the dirt.’”

“You need to marry well. Get in with the right people. Your brother⁠—”

“Again, stepbrother. I’m sick of being compared to Terence. He’s a lawyer with a bad reputation, a penchant for whiskey and women way too young for his age or bank account. How you rank him so high in your favor, I will never know.” I paused. “Or care. I am not now nor ever interested in being compared to him. I had enough of that growing up.”

“I pushed you to reach your potential.”

“You pushed me to be what you wanted. Terry might have liked the attention, but I didn’t.” I shook my head. “Your second husband and his son have always held more affection in your heart than I did. Being your son wasn’t enough. I had to be what his son was. And while I couldn’t say no as a child, I can say no now.” I met her eyes, the anger evident. “You want a big society wedding and grandkids to show off? Ask Terry.”

“He could have his pick of eligible women. He’s a catch,” she insisted.

“Then let him get caught.” I held open the door. “Now, leave.”

She brushed past me, her head held high. “Such a disappointment you are.”

I nodded. “That goes for both of us.”

The sound of the door slamming between us was loud.

“Can’t we go faster, Darryl?” I barked from the back seat.

“Sorry, Mr. Bane, there’s an accident ahead.”

I looked at my watch. Thanks to my mother’s unannounced visit, and the moments I’d required to calm down from her caustic words, I was already late. I’d wanted to be in the office ahead of everyone. To make sure the model was perfect, the refreshments laid out, and everything in its place. I had worked too hard on this for it to fall apart at the last minute. I dialed Myers, upset when the call went to voice mail. I shut my eyes and counted to ten. I looked at the blocked road ahead and did some fast calculations in my head.

“Let me out. I can run faster. Call Myers and tell her I’m on my way.”

He stopped the car, and I got out, racing down the alley. By cutting through the back ways, I could shave off time and make it. Five minutes later, I was rushing through the front doors of the building. I managed to get into an elevator before the doors closed, and I checked my reflection. I looked windblown, and my tie was crooked. When the doors opened, I raced to my office, hearing voices.

Myers was waiting, her eyes wide. She handed me a damp cloth and, without my asking, straightened my tie and ran her fingers through my hair. “Darryl called,” she whispered. “I told them you were delayed with traffic. They only arrived a few moments ago themselves,” she informed me. “Isn’t running into the office late my thing?” she teased, making me smile.



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