Dating The Boss

Dating the BossUSA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR ASHLEY ZAKRZEWSKI Dating The Boss Ashley Zakrzewski No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the author’s consent. This is a work of fiction. Names, businesses and likewise are all product of the author’s imagination. © 2022 COPYRIGHT ASHLEY ZAKRZEWSKI All rights reserved. Contents Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37EpilogueRough Edges CollectionAbout the Author Chapter OneELLA The shrill sound of the alarm pierced the stillness of the early morning, jolting me awake. My hand fumbled blindly across the nightstand for the snooze button, but I missed it. I threw off my thick, down comforter, and my bare skin immediately chilled in the winter air. Teeth chattering, I grabbed a fluffy robe from the end of the bed and wrapped it tightly around myself before making my way to the kitchen to start the coffee maker. Mornings were not my friend, but coffee definitely was. I inhaled deeply as the heady aroma filled the room, finally ready to face a new day. While I waited for it to be done, I needed get dressed so I wasn't late for my first day. I opened the closet door and shook my head at the sight of the unflattering housekeeper uniform. The pale blue polyester was repulsive. I sighed and tried to make myself presentable with a swipe of lipstick and a messy ponytail. When the coffee maker was done, I made myself a cup of black coffee, all the while wishing I could go back to my old nine-to-five job where I'd get to sleep in until eight. It felt like a prison sentence, getting up so early in the morning - the streetlights were still on and the sky was just beginning to blush pink. At least I get to see the sunrise for once. New York city wasn't all it used to be. When most people think of the city, they think about Times Square, but it's so much bigger than that. The once bustling streets were now lined with vacant storefronts, and people of all ages struggling to find work. Those jobs that had been a source of security for so long were gone, and many people, myself included, had a hard time finding work. Everywhere I looked I saw people packing up their belongings after being evicted from their homes, and it felt like the city's future was being crushed under the weight of its unemployment rate. The short three-block walk to the hotel was a small price to pay for the convenience of being so close to home. As soon as I stepped outside, though, I remembered why I rarely walked to work before. The thick scent of car exhaust and rotting trash filled my lungs and burned my nostrils. Despite its familiarity, it still made me grimace with every breath. I bent my head down, trying to hide in the early morning rush of people, all of them wearing their best suits and ties, hustling towards their jobs. I glanced at the warmly lit coffee shop and sighed in regret as I checked the time on my wristwatch, and then fell hard onto the sidewalk. I brushed the dirt off my uniform. "What the hell's wrong with you?" I asked, my voice rising above the thumping bass of the man's headphones. He quickly removed them and began scooping up the items he had knocked out my purse, his cheeks flushed and his brow heavily creased in apology. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention." The man had sun-kissed brown hair, and a strong jawline that seemed to have been crafted by Michelangelo himself. His eyes were framed with thick, black lashes. I couldn't help but steal one last glance before turning away from him, feeling embarrassed by my gawking. I quickly cleared my throat and spoke firmly. "Next time, make sure you're paying attention." Taking the situation into consideration, I knew that getting fired on my first day was not an option. So, I spun around and jogged away, hoping to make it to work on time. My watch ticked as I flew toward the entrance door and I scrambled to get it open as the time read 6 o'clock. “Usually we ask that you’re fifteen minutes early on your first day,” she said, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose. She extended her hand. “I’m Mary. You will be training with me today.” I clasped her hand awkwardly and cleared my throat. “Well, they didn’t tell me that, but I should have known to be early. I apologize.” She pulled out a laminated list of fourteen rooms, each with its own set of specifications. "We've gotta complete all of these today," she said, tapping the list with her immaculately manicured fingernail. "These folks expect the works - for what they're paying, they should." She down at me, her eyes narrowed with determination and the corners of her mouth pulled down into a frown. It was clear that failure was not an option for this hotel - one night here cost more than entire mortgage. Mary stepped into the first room and I followed her, my stomach churning with apprehension. She began to systematically clean the space, using a cloth to wipe down surfaces and meticulously scrubbing each tile of the bathroom. Working methodically, she moved around the room, scrutinizing each corner and crevice. She paused occasionally to pick hairs from the grout or to fluff a pillow before carefully placing it on the bed. Nothing was left to chance - no spec of dirt or dust was left behind. After watching her, I was surprised how much detail they expected. Almost forty-five minutes spent on one room and we have thirteen more. How did they expect us to get