After I accidentally uploaded a rant post instead of my resignation letter, the messages went like this.

Me: [Did you see the file I submitted?]

He: [Mm… yeah. I saw it.]

Me: [Then why didn't you reply? You don't approve?]

He went quiet.

I lost my patience and typed back, [If you're not saying anything, I'll take that as a yes. I'll come by your office this afternoon.]

He replied almost instantly. [That fast?]

Me: [Fast? How is that fast?]

He: [I need some time to think.]

Two seconds later, another message came in. [Is that okay?]

I said yes.

He ended up leaving work early and even gave the entire company three days off.

Sitting at my desk, I thought about it for a long time.

He was the owner of the company, yet there he was, acting like he was afraid I might leave.

Was he really that desperate to keep me?

The office was buzzing with shockwaves. Edmund Lynch, the boss, had just dropped a bombshell.

[Clock out, and take an extra three days off.]

"Is Mr. Lynch off his rocker?" Janice Carter, my desk neighbor, could not stop refreshing her phone.

I clutched my phone, my mind a whirlwind of confusion.

What about the vacation days I had earned by quitting?

Was that just my rotten luck? I could not help but think.

"The economy's tanking. Maybe Mr. Lynch can't afford our paychecks anymore, and this is his way of feeling us out?"

"It's got to be a prelude to layoffs!"

"You got it. I was in his office with a proposal today, and layoffs were all he talked about. Looks like it's a done deal!"

...

A chill ran through me.

If they were cutting jobs, I could have cashed in on a sweet severance deal!

Could I still pull back my resignation? I wondered silently.

…

Too late or not, I found myself in Edmund's office.

I should not be thinking that, but the man was a looker.

Broad shoulders.

Narrow waist.

His backside...

Did not get a glimpse of it today.

However, from what I had seen before, it would probably feel nice to the touch.

"Ahem."

His cough snapped me back to the present.

"Need something?"

Edmund did not even glance up, just kept thumbing through his papers.

I buttered him up a bit, "Mr. Lynch, about the letter I submitted today, did you get a chance to look at it..."

"I did." His voice was cool, the words slipping out effortlessly.

I was on edge, but tried to keep it cool. "I was just thinking..."

"Thinking what?" He snapped the file shut and straightened the gold-rimmed glasses I had not noticed before.

He was quick to respond.

Obviously, I was thinking about pulling my resignation.

He would do the layoffs, and then I would walk away with a hefty severance check! Could I really be daydreaming about how rock-hard your abs are under that shirt, or how your backside seems to defy gravity in that chair?

What a ridiculous thought. I chided myself.

"Haven't I told you I'd think it over?" Edmund finally raised his eyes to mine, his look heavy with unspoken words. "Are you that desperate?"

"Yes!" The word flew out of my mouth.

I stepped closer, narrowing the space between us.

With earnest eyes, I drove the point home. "Mr. Lynch, I'm truly in a bind."

Edmund paused, a hint of red creeping up his ears. "Alright, I understand. I'll give it some more thought."

I softened my voice. "Mr. Lynch, there's no need to ponder anymore."

From that proximity, I caught the quick bob of Edmund's throat.

That infuriating allure.

"What now?"

His voice lifted, snapping me out of my reverie.

"I've changed my mind.

"That was just a silly thing I wrote, didn't mean to send it your way.

"I never meant any of it."

In a flash, his brow crinkled.

Just look at him.

He had dragged his feet on my request, followed me to the office, and still he talked of 'thinking it over.'

Then, as I talked about pulling back my resignation, the tension I had been carrying lifted.

If that wasn’t him being unwilling to let me go, then what was it?

What a shame, though.

Sure, working for him had been a breeze. The perks had been plenty, and he had been maddeningly handsome. That had been the highlight.

However, the problem was me.

Lately, I had been burning the midnight oil, writing away, and my health had taken a hit.

With what I made from my writing, I could already support myself.

So, I just wanted to quit and take some time to recover at home.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Edmund's face was a mask, his voice all business.

"I've let the usual office antics slide, and I've taken your jokes in stride, but when it comes to the job..." He paused, his voice softening. "In our line of work, shouldn't we think things through and then stick to what we've said?"

I could tell he was trying not to intimidate me with his tone.

Mr. Lynch, always the gentleman with a heart of gold.

My heart swelled with affection. "True, but it's you I'd miss the most."

The fingers resting on the desk gave a slight quiver.

I went on, "And there are others.

"Like Bobby, who never fails to pour my coffee. Colton, who's always treating the ladies to milk tea. Liam, who's ever ready to lend a hand and share his know-how… I'd miss them all."

Edmund's eyes narrowed a touch.

"Seems you've got a soft spot for quite a few of our guys. Fond of each one?"

Not exactly.

However, in my heart, Edmund stood out. None of the others could hold a candle to him. I kept that thought to myself, of course.

I replied, "There are women colleagues, too. I'm pretty fond of everyone, really."

He let out a derisive laugh. "I fail to see what any of these people have to do with what you've sent me.

"So what you're saying now is, with so many choices, you're thinking of playing the field a bit more?"

"Yes." I was dead serious, "I can't just put all my eggs in one basket.

"However, I can't just walk away from what we have, so I need to give it some more thought."

Edmund stayed silent, his hand balling into a fist, knuckles whitening.

Clearly, my words had hit close to home.

He was, after all, the head honcho, with a whole crew depending on him. He could not just up and leave like I could.

Even those with deep pockets have their crosses to bear.

"I can tell you're ready to let me go; every word is a dagger to the heart."

Edmund removed his glasses, reverting to his usual icy exterior.

"Leave."

"So..." I waited for his reply.

"Now that I know you're not in it, I won't lose sleep over it."

…

Edmund was a riddle wrapped in a mystery, his thoughts as elusive as a clear forecast in June.

Stepping out of the office, I realized I was the last one out.

I flicked on my phone to a flood of notifications from the work chat.

[Big Butt Mr. Lynch: Go ahead and clock out, folks. Nothing urgent. Anyone still grinding away is just kissing their vacation goodbye.]

A stream of acknowledgments and brown-nosing followed.

Those messages had buzzed in just as I was walking into the office, all with an air of urgency, practically shoving us out the door.

I tutted to myself.

No way I was vain enough to think my resignation letter would have scored us a three-day break from Edmund.

He said it was all chill, but I know the bluff. He was just itching to clear the house, probably drafting a hit list for layoffs as we spoke.

Then there was Janice. She texted me, too.

[Some idiot bolted so fast they yanked my computer cord out. Totally steamed.]

[Just gonna borrow your PC real quick to send some files, cool?]

I shot back a couple of emojis to say I was out of the office, slipping in a sly dig at Edmund while I was at it.

With my phone off, I took my sweet time packing up, mulling over my next moves.

First, I snatched back that resignation letter to secure the severance.

Second, I got Edmund to handle the dirty work and start the cuts.

Before shutting down, I hit up Google.

"How to get the head of your company to..."

That was when the blinds flew open with a snap.

I was met with a glare.

"Cecilia, you're streaming to my screen."

Crap!

…

I ran all the way home, cursing Janice a hundred times over.

"Janice, are you trying to get me killed? Why on earth would you use my computer to connect directly to Mr. Lynch's laptop?

"I almost slapped the words 'voluntary layoff' right onto his forehead!"

Janice pleaded, "I didn't cast the screen. I was worried you hadn't saved some data, so I left it on just in case. Maybe someone else accidentally touched it?"

That could be the case.

I opened the document at lightning speed. It was the piece I had written while goofing off.

Luckily, it was still there.

I set up my snacks and water, all geared up. Ready to burn the midnight oil and hit the ground running.

I would deal with the voluntary layoff and the severance package later.

Being liked had not been easy, but getting on someone's nerves was a piece of cake.

The cool night air wafted in through the window.

After a sneezing fit, my nose started running.

Another cold.

I went through tissues like water, and the trash can got full quickly.

Fighting off drowsiness, I sent out messages and files.

[Worked my tail off tonight. I'm sore all over, and now I think I've caught a cold. Could use some TLC.]

My editor and I were close, and I often chatted with her like that.

I waited for the file to arrive.

However, no luck.

With heavy eyelids, I messaged the editor again, [Is my far-off baby still mad?]

It was quite the tale.

A while back, my editor got a nasty email in the wee hours, and it upset her so much she cried to me for hours.

So, in a daze, she decided not to check her emails after dark.

She probably forgot that today was my deadline because of my constant procrastination, so she had not made an exception for me.

Yawning, I sleepily sent the new draft into the chat box.

Trying to smooth things over, I added, [Don't be mad, I've got something good for you.]

With that, I crashed.

I missed the flood of messages that came in, only to be retracted one by one.

…

The next day, well past dawn, I finally woke up.

To my surprise, I had a cold.

Janice had messaged that the whole company was meeting up for a meal.

I passed.

[Stayed up all night, I'm aching all over, and I've got a cold.]

In the company's ladies' chat, the onlookers were having a field day.

[You've only been off for half a day, and you're already going overboard. Come on, get ready to be lectured!]

[Ditching your pals for a pretty face, huh?]

[Wow, that intense? Hook me up, too!] they joked.

I just shook my head, a rueful grin on my face. Recommending those racy novels to my friends was a mistake. After that, their heads were filled with nothing but naughty thoughts.

My phone pinged again. It was Edmund, of all people.

"Feeling under the weather? Taking any meds? Better rest up."

I almost replied on impulse, but then I remembered my goal: I needed Edmund to want me gone, to be the one to cut me loose from the job.

So, I left him hanging and turned back to the group chat. I sent a cheeky voice message, [Yep, I could go another three hundred rounds.]

That set my colleagues off. They were all chatter and no filter, every other word bleep-worthy. I scrolled through their messages, laughing so hard I was a mess, rolling around on my bed.

Once I had had my fill of fun, I tried to message Edmund back.

[Done and done.]

One more time. [Done and done.]

Message not sent. The guy had blocked me.

I bolted upright. What happened? Who ticked him off?

After a quick mental replay, I messaged Janice.

[Is Mr. Lynch with you guys for dinner?]

She replied, [Yeah, he was asking about you. Told him you were too sick to leave bed.]

I could not believe it.

[He's got no heart. I'm laid up here, and he blocks me?]

[Uh oh, might be 'cause of that voice message. He might think we're playing him.]

[What voice message?]

[The 'three hundred rounds' one... I accidentally blasted it on speaker.]

I was speechless.

…

I wanted to cry but had no tears.

There was an old saying that fortune and misfortune were two sides of the same coin. Well, I had certainly made an impression.

No turning back at this point. I might as well go all in.

We had both hit the block button on each other, but I could not resist stirring the pot. I fired off a message with a bit of historical flair.

[Back when lords ruled and serfs labored, even a capitalist wouldn't have made a dime.]

The message zipped through cyberspace and landed with a ping.

When did he unblock me?

I froze for a second, then scrambled to soften the blow, [But you're not like the rest; you've got a heart for the humanities.]

The chat bubble teased me with a constant [Typing…] at the top.