A Favor To My Boss

Emma's POV: Leaving the office that evening filled me with quiet relief. Whispers and sideways glances trailed after us, all because Brandon and I had stepped into the building together. Some people seemed unable to mind their own business, prying into stories that were never theirs to tell. Brandon did his best to distract me, always ready to cut off a rumor before it grew legs. Anyone who tried to start something found him standing in their way, calm but clear. I longed for the comfort of my apartment, a glass of wine in hand, and a night where no one expected anything from me. If only by morning their curiosity would find a new target, and we would fade from their conversations. As soon as I arrived home, I undressed and went straight to the bath. The warm water made me feel better. I put on my pajamas and decided to order food since I disliked cooking for one. At times, I hated being single, but work often left me with little time for anything else. I took a glass and a bottle of wine from the fridge, sat on the couch, and thought about what to order for dinner. I was about to call the restaurant when my phone rang, and Brandon's name showed up. "Please tell me I do not need to go back to the office," I muttered before picking up. "Hello sir, is everything alright?" I heard him laugh on the other end. "Emma, we were not at work. Call me Brandon," he said, laughing. Maybe he was not calling to talk about work. Why else would he have called? "Hey Brandon, everything all right?" I said, laughing a little. "So, what's up? What are you even doing right now?" he asked. A story was on the tip of my tongue, but there was no point in spinning tales. Honesty seemed easier. "Honestly? There isn't much going on. Planning to order takeout and pour myself some wine. That's my big plan for tonight." I let out a long sigh. "That's not going to fly. Come to my place instead. I'll cook something, and we can be bored together if that's what you want. And before you freak out, no, this isn't a date." His laughter was warm. "Last night was actually fun— at least until you drank him under the table," he added. "You realize I'm already dressed for bed?" I laughed. "You have twenty minutes to get ready. I'll have a driver waiting." Without another word, the call ended. For a long moment, my gaze fixed on the phone in disbelief. Was my opinion even considered here? Apparently not. I let out an exasperated sigh, barely resisting the urge to remain glued to the couch, but eventually forced myself to move. Somehow, I made it to my bedroom, slipped into fresh clothes, and grabbed whatever I thought I might need. Heading to his place again left me feeling conflicted. There was no denying that last night had turned out surprisingly well. His company had made the whole thing enjoyable, even when he lost control after a few drinks. Making my way around the apartment, I double-checked that everything was turned off. Just as I reached for my bag, my phone buzzed with a new message. Instinct took over and I checked the screen. It was Brandon. Brandon said, "I'm parked outside." Wait—he's actually here? Hadn't he mentioned a driver was coming for me? Guess he changed his mind. Truthfully, I was relieved I wouldn't be riding with a stranger. With the door closed behind me, I finally headed out. Brandon was propped up against his car when I stepped out. "Hey there." He greeted, his voice full of enthusiasm. "Well, well." I grinned, returning the greeting. "Wasn't expecting you. I thought you were sending someone?" "I figured I'd skip the middleman and do it myself. Don't want to be lazy." He shrugged casually, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I chuckled softly, shaking my head as I walked toward the passenger side. He slid into the driver's seat, and in no time, we were headed down the road, making our way from my modest apartment to his grand house—or maybe it was a mansion. I wasn't sure anymore. "So, I'm making chicken with sweet chili. And there'll be rice and steamed vegetables to go with it. Are you okay with that?" he said, breaking the silence. "Sounds pretty good. But please tell me you're not cooking this because you've figured out what a sad, pitiful existence I have," I replied. "Not exactly. I just figured I'd call and see what you were up to, since I was bored and in the mood for some company." He laughed, glancing over at me. I smiled, unsure whether it was the truth or just a line to make me feel better. But either way, it worked. "Anyway, I really do appreciate it. I could use some company." We hadn't even come to a complete stop before Brandon was already pulling the car over. Without wasting a second, he jumped out and rushed to my side, opening the door for me. I raised an eyebrow at him, slightly confused. He didn't strike me as the type of man who'd make an effort like that. "What? I've got excellent manners, Miss Emma. You probably didn't notice before, but that's because it's hard to be polite with all the stress and chaos I've been juggling." He flashed me a grin. "Alright, if you say so. Thanks, I guess," I added, matching his playful tone with a cheeky smile. "Get out before I change my mind," he teased, a laugh escaping him. "Yes, sir," I responded with a dramatic eye roll, already stepping out of the car and heading for his front door. I paused, waiting for him to open it. At least he's got the energy to do that much himself, I thought with a smirk. He stepped inside first, and I followed him into the living room. As I glanced around, something caught my attention—pictures of him and Darcy that had been on display last night were now gone. I couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and sadness. It seemed like a brave step for him to take, but at the same time, it made the house feel emptier, lonelier. "I figured it was time to let go of all of them." I heard him sigh softly behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and caught sight of the sadness that had returned to his face—the same look I'd seen last night. He noticed me looking and quickly tried to mask it, forcing a smile. The room grew quiet between us. For a moment, neither of us spoke, but the weight of the silence lingered. Our eyes met, and something about the stillness made me uneasy. Without thinking, I took a step back, putting some distance between us. Brandon cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably and straightening his posture. "I've been looking for a new place, too. A small bachelor apartment. No point in holding on to a big house when there's no one to share it with—no wife, no kids," he said, his voice quieter now. "I'm sure one day you'll have all of that, Brandon." I smiled gently, trying to lighten the mood. "I hope so. How about this? After dinner, you can look over my place choices and tell me what you think." His smile flickered, hopeful yet uncertain. "Of course. I'd be happy to." "Thank you. Come on, let's have a glass of wine and start making dinner," he stammered, his face lighting up. I followed him into the kitchen, where everything was neatly set up and ready to go. Taking a seat at the counter, I watched as Brandon poured us each a glass of wine before he started on dinner. "Can I help with anything?" I offered, watching him move about the kitchen. "No, it's all good. I'm a bit... obsessive when it comes to the kitchen. Everything has to be done my way, with a little bit of mystery thrown in," he joked, his eyes sparkling. "You just relax and enjoy your wine." I followed his advice, settling back as he moved into his rhythm in the kitchen. I couldn't help but smile, watching him. He was completely in his element— calm, composed, like this was where he truly belonged. Honestly, he seemed like he should be a chef instead of whatever else he did for a living. "Have you always cooked?" "Yes. It's one of my favorite things. One day, I plan to open my own restaurant," he replied without missing a beat, glancing over his shoulder with a smile. "You definitely seem at ease with it. I can cook, but I absolutely hate it. It just stresses me out." I chuckled softly. "Maybe one day we can cook together. I'll help you figure out why it stresses you out." He laughed too, turning back to the chicken he was preparing. "That would be nice. Because, honestly, I swear I'm destined to be alone forever. I need to figure out how to stop stressing out in the kitchen." I smiled with a hint of amusement. Brandon paused mid-task, then turned to face me, leaning casually against the counter. "Come on, Emma, that's nonsense. No way you're going to be alone forever." "I wouldn't be so sure. I've got a boss who's a bit of an idiot and always steals my time. So, yeah, I'm starting to think it's a real possibility." I gave him a mischievous grin, playing along. He saw right through the teasing, his smile growing wider as he caught the joke. "Alright, maybe I sound a bit like a fool. But trust me, a woman as beautiful and kind as you? She's not going to be alone forever. The right guy is out there for you, Emma," he explained, pushing off from the counter and looking at me with sincerity. I could feel the heat creeping up my cheeks, a blush spreading across my face. His words were making me feel shy in a way I hadn't expected. He chuckled, walking over to me and leaning his elbow casually on the counter, stopping just a few inches from where I sat. "Are you blushing?" he teased, his smile wide and knowing. "No. Not at all," I responded quickly, trying to laugh it off. "But you... I'm sure you get compliments all the time, Emma." "Not from my boss," I answered, my lips twitching, fighting the smile that threatened to break free. "You love it, don't even try to deny it." He grinned and winked. With that, he took a step back, returning to his work, but the teasing glint in his eyes remained. The room fell silent after that. But I couldn't shake the question that kept circling in my mind. Was Brandon flirting with me again? It seemed like he did it more and more as we spent time together. The truth was, I didn't even know how I felt about any of this.