Message from UberEats App (A$$h\le Customer):* You're now officially 15 minutes late, so I'm docking your tip for every second my dinner isn't in my hands. By the way, this was my first—and likely last—time using this app… The moment I received that message, I should've opened the guy's $300 pasta and wine order and thrown it out the window. If I wasn't in desperate need of the money, trust me, I would've. By the time I deliver the order to a hotel suite in Manhattan, I'm soaked from the rain, exhausted, and shocked as hell at who the customer is. Dominic Sutton. As in billionaire Dominic Sutton—and the selfish a$$hole who runs the other place I work. I really should've kept my mouth shut… When he has the audacity to tip me 3%—three freaking percent—I snap. I tell him exactly what I think of his revolving door of interns, his policy that staff can't even look him in the eyes, and let him know he's the worst CEO in the world. The sexy smirk on his face makes it clear that my rant doesn't faze him in the slightest. That's when I take his pricey food and storm back downstairs to my car. (Yes, it tasted amazing…) I honestly thought he'd forget all about me—he has far bigger things to worry about. Until I get to work the following Friday. There's an email waiting for Report to the executive floor to see me. Now. Something tells me I'm about to find out just how ruthless—and selfish—this man really is.

The next spicy office romance book in The Steamy Latte Reads Collection.

Employee Satisfaction Survey Response 0/10 stars. If I could give this a\\hole CEO a negative rating, I would. He’s never been wrong a day in his life, turns our meetings into hostage situations, and I swear he cuts people off mid-sentence just to hear himself talk. I thought employee surveys were supposed to be anonymous. I also thought it was a great idea to fill one out after half a bottle of cheap tequila… instead of finishing the quarterly project he’s been hounding me about for weeks. Turns out, I was wrong. One week later, our CEO is in the middle of a boardroom speech about “transparency” when he pulls my survey up on the big screen—and reads it aloud, word for word. Including my name. I’m so effin screwed… Firing me would’ve been the merciful option. Instead, he decides to “make an example out of me.” Now I’m his shadow—dragged into every meeting, roped into client dinners, and shoved onto impossible deadlines that mysteriously appear on my desk after midnight. He says it’s a “lesson in professionalism.” I say it’s punishment from a devilish bully with a very long memory. And if hell hath no fury like a scorned boss, mine is about to make me believe it…