Rich and Bossy (Rich Boys)

1. Paxton

CHAPTER 1

Paxton

Nothing like a warehouse meeting at the ass crack of dawn.

At least it’s a beautiful day with the windows down.

Early October, so not too painfully cold yet. The air is crisp, clean, fresh. It hints at the winter coming soon though, like a small, painful reminder. Winter is inescapable in Minnesota, that’s for damn sure. My joints are already starting to remind me it’s coming.

Fuck, I miss football.

I pull my Charger into an inconspicuous spot that’s open on the back side of the parking lot, and my assistant Bree gets out with me. She’s oblivious, on her phone the entire time, no doubt scheduling things and tracking my appearances. When we exit the car, I look up. The warehouse is massive. If you stand on one side, you can’t even see the end of it. It never gets old looking at it. The giant logo on our building.

You guys really built this shit.

It’s still surreal.

The corporate logo is a twenty-foot blue wave curving over the name Rapid. It’s like a beacon when it’s lit at night, visible for miles around, hammering home our brand in the minds of our consumers.

These feelings are the only thing exciting me at the moment. At least it pulls my attention from the boring meeting about to take place.

Still, my employees work hard and it’s good for me to get out and talk to them, see how they’re doing. I still know a few of them from the beginning.

We didn’t realize it at the time, but I think the company grew too fast. The people who measure my net worth would likely disagree, as would the shareholders.

There are fulfillment centers like this one in every major North American market, but this was the first.

I pass a few drivers looking over clipboards before climbing into their trucks. They don’t notice me. If they do, they damn sure don’t recognize me. That’s good, I suppose. I was worried pulling in here in the Charger would draw a bunch of attention. It’s not exactly quiet and easy to miss.

At one time in Minnesota I couldn’t go anywhere in town without signing autographs. Those days have since passed.

I try to stay out of the media, no matter how hard they try to force me into it. Truth be told, I can’t fucking stand them. It’s all fake, performance art.

Finally, it happens. One of them spots me and his eyes widen a little. He walks around the corner, no doubt about to signal in with the walkie talkie clipped on his belt. As I pass more people, there are definitely side eyes, and people are standing more at attention.

That’s why I don’t like people recognizing me. They act like I’m some kind of dictator who’s going to come micromanage every aspect of what they’re doing.

I shoot a glance at my assistant, who rarely leaves my side when I’m out of the office. She’s on her phone, as usual.

“Well, they know I’m here.”

“Yes, sir.”

I’m not sure she even knows what I just said. “Yes, sir,” is her default response to everything. I’m sure she’s scrambling, trying to keep my schedule in order. I never meant for it to be like this for her, either. But she’s loyal to a fault and has been with us since the beginning.

She must feel my eyes on her, because her head snaps up. “They said to take the elevator up to the top floor, and they’ll be waiting there in the main conference room opposite the auditorium.”

Yeah, a fucking auditorium. We had to have a room that big for warehouse meetings for the general employees. Fortunately, this meeting is just upper management, and then I’ll go around and talk to employees afterward.

These meetings happen every year before the holiday season. I call it “shit hits the fan” season, because that’s exactly what happens, but it always carries us to an incredible fourth quarter. It’s coming at us fast, like a freight train.

“Sounds good.” I truly mean that too. Thank God they didn’t have someone waiting to show us up there and kiss my ass the whole way.

I know how that sounds, but it just happens. I get it, but I prefer people to be real, honest. I want to deal with that person, their actual concerns. I cannot stand people just telling me what they think I want to hear.

It’s a CEO curse. At least for me, anyway.

The warehouse is cavernous when we enter. You really have to experience it for yourself to take it all in. Towering shelves stacked as high as OSHA will let us stack them.

Robots.

Yeah, no shit.

We are a leader in robot and automation technology. Obviously, humans work side by side, and there are people running around, yelling out. Forklifts going everywhere.

The best way I can describe it is: organized chaos.

Everything has somewhere it needs to be within a few days, and we get it there faster than anyone in the world. The place almost gives me vertigo it’s so damn big and full of energy.

We pass through the front of the warehouse and into the next section full of conveyor belts hauling empty boxes to their destination, printers spooling endlessly for packaging inserts and shipping labels. Employees dart this way and that, shouting questions and instructions while boxes pile up for shipment on one of the trucks waiting at the loading bay.

Even our parking lot and docks span for acres, just to accommodate all the trucks.

A football injury ended my first dream, but I haven’t done too bad for myself since. Not too bad, indeed.

We’re almost at the elevator when Bree stops short, her phone going off in her hand. “It’s a call from the office. Can I meet you up there?”

“I can handle an elevator.” I smile and wave her off like she didn’t need to ask, even though I know she always will.

She moves aside to take the call a moment before the elevator doors open. I step inside and press the appropriate button, waiting for the doors to slide shut.

“Can you hold that?”

I’ve barely registered the question before a petite little brunette darts into the car. She’s wearing the same vest and hardhat as the rest of the warehouse workers. She doesn’t look like a typical warehouse worker, but there are jobs here for everyone.

I saw a flash of eyes when she came in, and I can’t help wanting to see more. I’m pretty sure she’s smoking hot, but she has on too many damn clothes and that helmet to make a judgment call.

What is wrong with you?

I’m a man. What the fuck?

Suddenly, the vibe in the elevator shifts. She seemed like she was just in a hurry to get where she was going, but now it’s like I feel eyes on me, even though she’s not looking my way. Maybe it’s her body language. I’m a master at reading people, and something tells me she just darted in here on purpose.

My intuition is confirmed when she slowly turns, and I get an icy stare.

Goddamn, what’d I do?

At the same time, that stare is hot. Like really hot. She looks good when she’s serious, and her eyes are even prettier than I thought. They’re a light brown, almost maybe with a shade of yellow which turns them almost amber. It’s a color I’ve never seen before, and they’re big with golden flecks in them.

“How are you?” I try to see if I can break through that icy demeanor.

“Oh, not too bad.”

Holy shit, the sarcasm in her voice. And her goddamn voice. It’s equal parts feminine and don’t fuck with me.

She lets out an obviously fake sigh. “Be better if we had more than five minutes to use the bathroom.”

I blink a few times. “Sorry? What?”

I almost thought maybe I’d fucked her before and forgotten. Look, I’m aware no matter what you do, there will always be employees with grievances. We’re all humans, and there are a metric ass load of humans in this building—this entire company. You can never please everyone.

Still, I didn’t see this attitude of hers being about working conditions.

She smirks.

Fuck, now I want to kiss her. I want to kiss that smirk right off her face.

Pull yourself together, bitch! You’re the CEO of this company. She’s an employee.

Also, it’s a little annoying being ambushed like this. That’s no lie. Her gorgeous face makes it easier, because any other employee who did this would be put in their place immediately. But, yeah, still annoying. That spark in her eyes is amazing though. I think I want to see more of it, see just how pissed I can get her. I want to see how far she’s willing to push me, knowing I could fire her in seconds.

“You guys can go number two in under five minutes? Impressive.”

She stares at me, and I get the reaction I want. It’s one part frustration, one part amazement. That’s what I was going for.

Now it’s her who looks a little stunned. “Did… Did you really just ask that?”

“Just want to get the details straight and, like your alleged bathroom breaks, we don’t have much time.” I glance over at the elevator.

Strangely, I don’t mind how slow it’s moving.

“Actually…” Her jaw clenches, and she grinds her teeth. Like she knows she shouldn’t do what she’s about to do, but she just can’t fucking help it.

Believe it or not, I admire that. But there’s no way I can tell her.

Her nostrils flare a little, and she goes for it. “It doesn’t really matter, because it’s not even enough for number one.”

“Five minutes? For number one? I mean, I’ve never timed myself, but I can’t imagine that’s true.” She’s going to detonate. I can feel it, and it will make my day infinitely more interesting.

“Well, when you have to run a quarter mile through dangerous machinery and robot arms to the nearest restroom, then run all that way back...”

She stops at the end, as if I’m supposed to fill in the blanks.

Jesus. That can’t be true. Surely there are restrooms around the corner from most stations. This chick is just making shit up. Sometimes employees do that.

Then again, I don’t really know. I have an entire operations department that handles this kind of thing. I’m not a fucking warehouse designer, or a human logistics expert.

I start to respond, but she cuts me off.

“It’s all timed. The second you leave your station.”

“What is happening…” I let my sentence trail off and start glancing around. “John put you up to this? Where’s the hidden camera?”

“Oh, there are cameras everywhere, not hidden, watching everything. But this is not a joke. The screens monitor every single thing we do, track our positions, to make sure we’re working as fast as possible. And in case you were wondering, people have started to urinate in containers at their stations, because they don’t want to get written up for not making it back on time.”

I hold out a hand. “Look, lady. I’m not saying you’re crazy, but this little 1984 Orwellian nightmare you’re painting, sounds a little exaggerated in your mind.” I look away, trying not to smile. “I will absolutely make a note to have a new worker glove policy, just in case. We can’t have people handling packages after that.”

Now, she looks like she might bite her cheek. Finally, her face starts to pinken, and slowly morph to red. Wow. She’s absolutely fuming under that stare.

Is it mature to amp her up like this?

No.

But I’m not the only one at fault here. Seriously, fucking go to HR like a normal person if you have problems. Don’t ambush the CEO at the crack of dawn.

Maybe I do wish this elevator would speed up. I’m kind of torn on the issue.

She lifts her left arm, holding up a smart watch in my face.

I just stare back at her and lift my wrist, showing her a Rolex. “Got one too. You need the time?”

“It’s a tracker. They literally track us through the warehouse. Do you have anything to say about that?”

“I think it sounds like you haven’t been getting your steps in and should work harder toward your goals.”

Fuck me, I should stop. I want to stop! I just can’t. I’m suppressing a huge grin, trying to look serious, but it’s difficult.

This is the most fun I’ve had in years. Definitely need to look into some of this stuff. Sounds like they’re pushing employees pretty hard, possibly excessive, but I have no doubt she’s overselling a lot of this shit. It’s a negotiation tactic. Go overboard to meet back in the middle and gain an edge. She makes it sound like we’re in a third-world sweatshop run by AI. No matter how beautiful she is, especially when pissed off, I can’t let that stand.

“Okay, lady, my turn. Two things.” My voice morphs to serious. I hold up one finger. “One, this is not the appropriate way to handle this. You don’t come at the CEO in an elevator.”

She starts to speak, but I cut her off.

“Two.” I hold up a second finger. “Yes, I’m sure we have some demands of employees. That’s how business works. We pay money for people to perform functions. That’s the trade off between employee and employer. And while I’m not involved in the decisions at any single warehouse, I can assure you we pay above market wages, we offer above market average benefits packages, and we go above and beyond all safety requirements regulated by the government.”

She folds her arms. “Did you come up with that on the fly? Or did you hire a PR firm then memorize it? You’re the CEO, and you don’t know how your warehouses are run?”

“Look, I don’t get it. If you’re unhappy, why do you work here?” I glance down at her petite frame. “It’s probably just not a good fit for you. Have you applied for some corporate office jobs? We promote from within. You’d get priority.”

God, I’d love to see her in the halls of corporate every day. I’m not saying I’d move her resume up the list, but I might not be able to help myself to see those eyes every morning.

“So you want to track us, time us, surveil us, and now you need to know why I work here too? You guys just can’t collect enough data, can you?”

“It’s called a conversation. Which you instigated.”

“I work here, because I have friends here. People who I care about.” She points at the door, like she’s pointing back down to the floor. “There’s a woman down there who just came back from her ever-so-generous, above market rates, four weeks of maternity leave. Her baby was born premature and is still in the NICU. She has to pump every few hours, and she was warned she’d be written up if she keeps doing it. It’s bad enough she can’t be with her baby, but now she can’t even pump breastmilk without risking being fired.”

Jesus Christ.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Okay, I’m sold. Need to speed up the elevator. Why is this elevator so fucking slow? I’m actually tired of hearing about piss buckets and breast pumps now.

“Well?” Her arms are still folded.

“Well?” I stare blankly at her, returning the question.

She just stares back like what the fuck ?

“What did HR say when you brought this to them? That’s kind of what they do.”

“Told us they’d take our concerns under advisement.”

“Well, there ya go. I’m sure they’re taking them under advisement.”

“It’s been months.”

I sigh, thankful the elevator is almost there. I keep looking up at it.

“Your mind somewhere else now?” She glares right at me.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to go talk to maintenance about these elevators. Have them sped up.” I glance down at her and grin. “Today.”

Now, she looks like she might explode. “Oh, I’m sure it’ll happen then.”

I need to deescalate this. Fun is fun, but I have a job to do. “I will make some inquiries. Okay? But these things take time, and I’m sure HR really is working on it. I don’t know if you’re aware, but the Minnie warehouse doesn’t exist in a vacuum. We have over three hundred now. When we change policies, it affects everyone, not just you and your personal needs.”

She shrugs. “Guess nobody can fix this then, if you can’t.”

“I’m not Santa Claus. I said I’d look into it. You’re going to have to learn patience.” I harden my stare at her a little. “If things are as bad as you say they are…”

She cuts me off. “Yeah, I made all that up. Maybe I should write dystopian fiction in my spare time.”

I sigh, ignore her little jab, and continue. “—I will advocate for the changes to be made. But the world doesn’t stop running because a child cornered me in an elevator.” I only call her a child to really set her off. And oh, does it.

Whether or not she realizes she’s doing it, she stands up a little straighter. She can’t be more than a few inches over five feet tall, and she’s straining for every one of them. “Do I look like a child to you?”

I smirk right at her. “Emotionally?” I shrug my shoulders like I’m hemming and hawing. I can’t hide the grin on my face. I probably shouldn’t have said it, but there’s a lot of shit she shouldn’t have said too. So I think we’re even.

I think the best part is how smart she is. Fuck, she’s beautiful and intelligent. She’s definitely not a goddamn child. If anything, she’s wise beyond her years.

She stands there, staring me down. Something tells me she didn’t mean to take things this far, and she just decided to go for it. Good for her.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Briggs. Boss knows best.” She does this sarcastic voice that has a submissive tone to it. “Thank you so much for your time.”

The elevator finally fucking dings.

“Well, thank you for your sincerity, but flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think it would, but it was worth a shot, since nothing else worked.” She arches an eyebrow, then looks me up and down.

Something just changed in her demeanor.

Holy fuck, it’s kind of intimidating. I didn’t know she had this look in her. My mind is still stuck on her calling me Mr. Briggs too, and I’m trying to keep my dick from getting hard. I already know I’ll jerk off to it later. I remember wanting off this elevator, but now I find myself still standing in it, even though the door finally slides open.

“Well, I do need to get on about my day.” I had to say something. It was one of those awkward moments when someone makes a statement, and there’s not really anything to say in return. I take a step toward the door.

“You do what you need to do, sir. But if some pretty serious changes don’t happen very soon, things are going to get uncomfortable around here.”

Whoa!

She comes with a right hook and it lands. I felt that one on the chin. So she actually wants to throw down?

Something inside me rises to the challenge. I turn to her, blocking the door from closing with my hand. “I still don’t know your name.”

“Hazel Strous.”

I take a step toward her. I make sure to lean a little and look right down my nose at her. “Okay, Miss Hazel Strous. Care to elaborate on uncomfortable ? That sounded like a threat.”

“Now, why on earth would I threaten you?” She bats her long eyelashes right at me, and does a helpless little girl voice. “I couldn’t possibly win. I’m just a child, remember?”

“Now you’re getting it.” I wink at her.

I still maintain winking is corny as fuck, but I deliver it perfectly. I can practically feel her rage rising inside her.

The elevator doors start to close, and I smack my hand on it again to keep it open while trying to keep my eyes pinned on her.

Miss Hazel Strous stands there, still glaring, like she’s not going anywhere.

Before making my exit, I have to get a few final words in. “I really will look into your concerns. Now you …” I shouldn’t do this, but I boop her right on the nose with my index finger just as I say the word you . “Don’t do anything hasty that you might regret, okay?”

What in the fuck is wrong with you?

The funniest fucking part is I know she’s furious. I know she’s seething, but she had the self-control to just let me do it, and her smile never fucking broke! Talk about respect. That takes some serious self-control.

I might be in love.

I know I’m being a dickhead, and Hazel Strous is definitely a headache waiting to happen for someone, but damn. Now, I really wouldn’t mind promoting her up to corporate so I could look at her more frequently. It might even solve two problems at once. Get to see her and end this complaining nonsense and whatever she thinks she’s going to do to make things uncomfortable around here.

I back up a few steps, exiting the elevator.

“Oh, I won’t. I swear.” She gives me an evil grin, and I’ll be fucked if the doors don’t close way faster than they open.

It keeps me from getting to say anything in return. She wears that shit-eating grin the whole time they close in my face, like she hoped this would all go exactly the way it just did.

One thing is absolutely certain…

This morning went from boring to exhilarating. My adrenaline is pumping like I’m back on a football field, going through the tunnel. In fact, I kind of hope she doesn’t back down. I love a good fight. And I think she’s going to end up in my bed.