From Neglected Wife to CEO’s Obsession novel Chapter 95

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I owe him another rescue—seriously, how am I ever going to pay him back for all these drunken disasters? At this rate, I’ll be in gratitude debt for life. I should just start a running tab on my phone, a whole memo dedicated to all the ways the boss has saved my butt. Maybe then I’ll finally come up with a solid plan to repay him.

Alcohol, honestly, is the worst. Not only does it wreck me, but it drags everyone else down too. I really need to stop drinking like this. I can’t count on getting lucky and having the boss bail me out every time.

“Thanks for picking me up last night, boss. But… my clothes?” I needed something to wear. There was no way I could step out of the bedroom like this.

He shot me a frosty look, lips pressed tight. Clearly, the memory of last night still haunted him. His jaw clenched, a vein pulsing at his temple. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to talk to me about clothes. You threw up all over yourself—your face, your hair, everywhere. And my brand new suit, the first time I wore it, you trashed it. If you’re awake, get up. Everything’s piled in the bathroom. Clean it. Now. The smell is killing me.”

I just stared at him, speechless.

How did I even survive throwing up on myself like that? If I didn’t choke to death, that’s got to be some kind of miracle.

But seriously, boss, did you have to leave all that mess in the bathroom? Couldn’t you just toss it? What, is he worried I can’t afford to pay him back? It’s just a suit. I swear, I can cover it.

“You have thirty minutes. If you’re not done, you can bring it to the office and finish cleaning it there.” His voice was low and angry, almost a growl.

Great. Why not just announce to the whole company that I got wasted, made a scene, and ended up in the boss’s bed?

“So, Ms. Greenwood, what’s your decision?”

Clean. I’ll clean it. Right now. Message received.

I dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. The second I opened the door, I was hit with a wave of rotten, boozy air that nearly knocked me over.

Just for that smell alone, I decided to forgive the boss for changing my clothes.

But the thought of him undressing me—me, sprawled out and helpless—made my face go up in flames. I wanted to sink into the floor and never come out.

My blue dress had survived, just a little wrinkled and reeking of cheap liquor, but otherwise fine. The boss’s suit wasn’t so lucky. The back was a disaster—food stains, a cocktail of booze, everything I’d had the night before, now left to stew and ferment overnight. The stench could probably kill a small animal.