“Christ, I hate him so much,” I tell Tai as we’re washing the wineglasses, tidying up before going to bed. “Just because he’s gorgeous and hot, doesn’t mean he isn’t the most cocky, arrogant ass in all of Silicon Valley, which is saying something. Damn I wish we had space for a dishwasher.”

“You know what they say about protesting too much,” Tai smirks. “If I were you I’d take the chance to jump his bones at that swanky party he’s putting on for you all.”

“We don’t know for sure it’s swanky, just because he hired some over-priced planning service,” I snip. “He did that because he’s too stuck up to go with the ideas from his staff.”

“Well it can’t be any less swanky than my office party today.”

“Oh god, I forgot all about that. It seems so weird to have a Christmas party in the middle of the day.”

“The word is Scroogey. And it’s even worse that they wouldn’t even pay for the food, we had to bring pot luck.”

“How could I forget? I won’t ever look at a shrimp again after helping you peel all three pounds.”

“My shrimp were the only edible dish there. It was a line up of disgusting leftovers covered over in Velveeta or Campbells soup sauce topped with marshmallows.”

“I can guarantee you there won’t be any soup at Milo’s party. I’ve seen how he turns his nose up at anything less than gourmet. Even his donuts are farm-to-table.”

“Can you smuggle me into your party pretty please?” Tai begs.

“Ohmigod, I forgot to tell you that too. My boss told me to invite you.”

“He said you could plus one?” Tai screeches, grabbing me and salsa-ing me across the floor then dipping me over the sofa, still clutching the dish towel.

“He did, but only you so don’t get too Glee about it. I don’t want my co-workers despising me any more than they already do.”

Tai goes twerking around the cramped living room until I collapse laughing.

“The party starts early tomorrow with movie afternoon while the Elite Bitches decorate the office, then kicks off for real at five.”

“I have to work,” Tai groans.

“They made you come in the day after your office Christmas party?” I’m stunned.

“Well it’s not as though any of us managed hangovers. Not with the whole; ‘We’ve added a two hundred dollar tab behind the open bar.””

“For seventy staff?” I laugh.

“Exactly. That barely covered my personal requirements for working in that dump all year.”

“So come right after. But don’t get drunk and tell my co-workers any secrets.”

“Like how you secretly wanna hump your boss?”

“Exactly like that – I’ll never hear the end of it. And It isn’t remotely true. Also, they’re really sneaky nerds, so don’t get beguiled by a mountain man beard and spill.”

“Scout’s honor.” Tai stands at military attention.

“Like you were ever in the scouts.”

“Do you think your boss secretly has the hots for me?” Tai looks off dreamily. “Imagine being swept off my feet and taken care of by a hunk that powerful.”

“Eww. Promise me you won’t flirt with him,” I call as Tai heads toward his room, hugging himself gleefully.

“You need this?” I shout, waggling my Santa gift after him.

“Night, Boo.” Tai waves back over his shoulder.

I’m left in the cramped kitchen area still frustrated at my day and without my pal to download to. Why had Milo insisted I bring Tai to the office party when it was strictly staff only, no SOs? Was he worried I’d have no one to talk to, being the only girl and seeing as my department all hate me?

Maybe he’s also some kind of misogynist, a woman hater. Far from being all altruistic, giving me a job in the male-dominated department, he’s really just loving how he gets to watch me squirm under their alpha attitude. From the way Milo tries to bait me every time he calls me into his office, I could more easily imagine him reveling in me standing alone in the corner being ignored even when under the mistletoe.

Milo Locksley (known as Lox in the Valley) is only thirty five according to his Wiki page and the many articles writtten about him online and in print. But the guys in the office talk about him like he’s their Dad, just because he recalls a time pre-internet, pre-Apps. When you had to dial a number and arrange a date rather than swipe through them online.

And boy does he do a lot of swiping. Okay, I admit I looked him up on Google but only because he’s my boss, holding my livelihood in his huge palm. If the dropdown offered ‘Milo Lox girlfriend’ as I typed his name into the box, I can’t be blamed for stalking just because I happened to click on it.

I fully expected to see him holding up the usual East European cat-eyed model type. And I wasn’t disappointed. What I wasn’t expecting was to see a different model in every shot. Not just European, there were Indonesian models, African models, Brazilian. My boss truly is an equal opportunity employer. Just seemed that he was the one indulging in the opportunities because no girl ever appeared in more than one shot – I checked. No wonder he makes me so mad.

I toss around, unable to sleep without the sexy face of my boss swarming into my mind. Every time I see that smug grin, I reach for the Ipad on my nightstand and imagine ramming it down on his skull. I check my mail and take another look at the app I’m working on for LoxTek, driven to work in the middle of the night. Many of the geeks I work with stay at the office through the night, intent on getting it right.

In the morning, Tai’s already left for work so I don’t get his advice on what to wear for the office party. It’s a Winter Wonderland theme so I’m tempted to pull on some leggings and a chunky sweater but I don’t think that’ll fly with my boss, who’d mentioned at some point that we should make an effort. That was a pointed remark to the guys, not to come to the party in their usual plaid shirts or Grateful Dead vintage tees. I choose a velvety tight stretch dress that definitely covers every hint of cleavage but does at least plunge low in the back.

I can’t quite force myself to forgo every hint of sexy and be the uptight covered-up prude at a Christmas party. Some part of me wants to prove to the guys I work with that yes, I do have a feminine side. I’d like to see them give me the side eye of surprise, discovering that I am indeed desirable even if they don’t stand a chance. Carrying my dress in a separate bag, I throw on something less formal and head out to the office.

The lobby entrance to the Lox building is a massive cement indoor playground with trees everywhere. Swings and a skateboard ramp in one area, a food truck set up in another. I clack across the arena in my boots but when I reach the door to the inner sanctum of offices, I’m prevented from entering the development area. A girl dressed like the pixie presiding over the playboy mansion bars my way.

“This area is closed until 5pm,” she squeaks, adding, “Refurb,” with a wink.

She hands me a silvery package, it’s a drawstring bag made from real silk. Inside I find a mask, like the kind for a masquerade ball. Or a night in bondage.

“Very fifty shades, huh?” she winks again.

“If you’re into that kind of thing,” I snip.

I can tell she’s the newest recruit on the job. Very young and on door security, she lacks the snotty sophistication of the other Elite Bitches I’ve seen coming and going in the last couple of weeks. Especially Tania Elite, the girl boss and snottiest of all. She always looks down her nose whenever she sees me.

“Here let me tie it on,” the pixie insists. She yanks it from my hand before I can snatch it away.

“Allow me,” a voice like sandpaper over plaster cuts in.

“Oh,” the girl squeaks, taking the word right out of my mouth.

I remind myself to keep my jaw hinged tight and not flop open from how virile and stunning Milo Locksley is. My boss turns me around to face away from him. Just the weight of his hands on my shoulders makes my tummy tumble over, then leap up toward my throat like one of those old toys where an evil clown leaps out from a box when you lift the lid.

“You aren’t into a masked ball?” He leans in to the ear furthest away from the pixie girl and whispers like we’re engaging in corporate conspiracy.

His breath is hot and I startle, every cell pricking at my skin lining. Did his lips brush at the shell or was it the weight of his voice? Or my rampant imagination?

“Good morning Aura,” Cutter pulls up beside us standing erect as a kid in his new school uniform. “Sir.”

His barely concealed smirk says he thinks he’s stumbled on something.

“I can do it,” I mumble.

I grab the mask back from my boss then excuse myself with some stuttering about needing the washroom. I start running like I’ve got a bad case of the Mexican Revenge.