Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  “You don’t get a say where my family is concerned. This is my business. My life.”

  His words cut deep, but I keep at it. “I’m just trying to help, Eli.” Now that it’s all out in the open, I have nothing left to lose. I throw myself on the metaphorical sword. “I did a heck of a lot of research into your case. You saw it for yourself. I know I’m right about this. You do, too. I just don’t see why you’re fighting so hard to deny it.” I venture closer and dare to lay a hand on his bicep. “I can help. I can find a lawyer. I can go to the newspaper. To the police. I don’t know exactly how it works, but I’m all in.”

  I have been since the day I started working here. I’m not giving in on this. I don’t care if it’s not any of my business. The Kingston family made it my business when they hired me to care for Callie. And it sure as shit became my business when I fell head over heels for Eli. Yes, this may stretch my job description past the fucking limit of reason, but all I care about is Callie’s best interest. Eli’s best interest. The two of them will have a much better life if the whole world knows that he is innocent.

  “Stop, Jessa.”

  “No, I refuse to—”

  “Why the fuck won’t you let it go, little woman?” his voice booms. His fist rears back before launching forward, punching the porch railing loose and causing me to flinch.

  I feel so small around him, and I still can’t muster the good sense to walk away. “Because I want people to know the truth about you,” I grind out through a clenched jaw.

  An exasperated sound leaves Eli’s lips. His shoulders fall. “Why the fuck does it matter to you?” He throws up his hands, sounding more depleted than ever.

  I face him head-on, feeling as tired as he looks. “Because I love you, Eli. I'm in love with you, and I think I have been ever since I received your very first letter.” My eyes search his. “You are good. You’re a good man, and I want everyone else to see you the way Callie sees you, the way I do. You deserve that.” On those words, my throat closes up completely.

  His mouth opens for a moment, but then he hesitates and clamps it shut again. He stares at me so long, I think he’s going to close this awful distance between us and kiss me. I can almost taste his gorgeous lips. I can almost feel his stubble tickle my chin.

  But the words that leave his mouth steal my last shards of hope. “Stay away from me. Stay away from Callie.”

  In two large steps, he’s yanking open his door and storming into the house. The sound of that door slamming in my face echoes through my heart on the long drive home.

  55

  Eli

  I’m at the office, but my head is twelve miles away. Mindlessly, I stare at the live nanny cam footage, watching Callie pour her energy into another alphabet sheet. I guess the nanny isn’t too impressed by her kindergarten readiness and has her working several hours a day from a workbook. I can’t decide if I approve or not.

  I’m all for building up Callie’s penmanship skills, but I miss seeing the carefree girl running through the fields and chasing frogs down by the river. Childhood is too fleeting to not be outside playing and laughing.

  I haven’t seen or heard from Jessa since I kicked her off my porch the other day, but that hasn’t stopped me from wondering what she’s doing.

  Cannon ‘casually’ mentioned that she’s been staying in one of his guest bedrooms. That just feels wrong because she belongs with me. In my house. In my room. In my bed. Every time her big eyes flash through my mind, my gut clenches so tight I can’t fucking eat. That’s probably not the worst thing to come out of this, considering the new nanny ‘doesn’t do meals’.

  I’m fucking miserable here.

  Whenever I close my eyes, I see her gorgeous tear-stained gaze staring up at me. I hear those words fall from her lips. Because I love you, Eli.

  She has no idea how badly I wanted to break down and say it back. The hardest thing I’ve ever done was to turn her away. I think that decision was even harder than the one I made to take the fall for Gabby’s crimes.

  Yes, I’m still pissed about the whole Monica bullshit. I hate that Jessa deceived me and made me look like a damn idiot. I hate that she pulled one over on me. But at the same time, now that I’ve had the time to step back and merge the two women in my head, now that I see the full, complete package—fuck—I think I love Jessa even more.

  Still, I have to do what I think is best for me and my daughter. And that means, just focusing on us, leaving Jessa behind.

  I glance up from my computer screen and look out my open office door. I catch Cannon and his secretary, Sally, both staring at me. They’re huddled over her desk, talking quietly, and both of them dart their eyes away the moment I bust them.

  I watch with annoyance as Cannon drags his feet in my direction. Great. What did I do now?

  “We need to talk,” my brother mutters, welcoming himself inside, closing my door and dropping down in an empty chair on the opposite side of my desk.

  I prop my elbows on my tabletop, rest my chin in my hands and wait.

  “The acquisition analysis we talked about the other day?” he starts. “As I said before, something wasn’t adding up. Sally and I see several concerning…discrepancies.”

  “By concerning discrepancies, you mean missing money,” I clarify.

  Cannon gives a curt nod. My brother honestly looks like he’s going to be sick. “Yes. Missing money.”

  “And you both think I’m behind it. That I gave into my lawless ways and stole from the company,” I deadpan.

  I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s disappointing, of course, but your brand is everything and I knew I was giving up my reputation when I pled guilty to fraud. So I can’t say I blame my brother for jumping to conclusions but I sure wish he’d give me the benefit of the doubt.

  “I don’t want to, Eli. But no one else has been working on this. No one else is in on this deal. My hands are tied, brother.”

  I stare him down, a thousand resentful thoughts buzzing through my head at warp-speed.

  When I don’t speak, Cannon leans forward. “Tell me you didn’t do this. Defend yourself. Say something. Anything, man.”

  I shrug, knowing my denials won’t make much difference. “I didn’t do it,” I say simply. “But I don’t know what to tell you to make you believe me, Cannon.”

  I don’t need money. The house is paid off, and even if it wasn’t, I could pop up a tent next to the river or, at worst, move into our parents’ guest house. Besides, between Callie and all the nanny drama I’m dealing with, does he really think I have time to mastermind some grand scheme to steal from the family business?

  I’m so tired of having to prove myself to everybody.

  Brows pinched together, Cannon gives me a long, hard look. I’m not sure what he’s searching for or if he finds it but after several quiet moments, he nods and rises to his feet. He walks around to my side of the desk, dragging his chair along with him.

  “Okay. Okay, pull up the report, and I’ll show you what I’m seeing. Then you can explain what I’m missing so we can get to the bottom of this.”

  We yell back and forth for nearly an hour, sifting through spreadsheet after spreadsheet until my eyes bleed. I explain what I do and how I do it while he pulls his hair out of his stupid man bun.

  Finally, he jumps out of his seat, flying up with so much force that the chair topples backward. “Are you fucking with me right now? Since when do you run the numbers like that? That’s ass-backward!”

  I throw my hands up and rise to my feet, too. “What the hell are you talking about? This is how I’ve always done it, since the beginning. How the hell do you run them?”

  He groans and reaches over my shoulder, grabbing my computer mouse and fiddling around with the documents. Two minutes later and we’re both glaring at each other. “That’s stupid,” I mutter.

  “Well, it’s how I do it, and that’s the right fucking way.” He continues to grumble, as he paces around my office. “I guess there’s
no missing money then.”

  I lean back, lifting my brow at him. I want to say I fucking told him so. But I realize that if I were in his shoes, I would have assumed the same thing. It’s hard to fault him, even if he is an asshole.

  At that precise moment, Jessa crosses my mind. She believes in me. She believes in my innocence, in my goodness, even when everybody else accepted me as a hardened criminal long before the judge slammed down his gavel.

  My brother’s shoulders drop six inches as he looks me dead in the eye. “I’m sorry, Eli. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. You going to punch me now? Or can you at least wait until Friday evening to give the black eye some time to heal before work on Monday?”

  I close my laptop and shake my head, mentally and physically exhausted. “I’m not going to hit you, dammit,” I mumble before I start cleaning up my desk. “Look. It is what it is, and I can’t fault you for thinking the worst. I’m a convicted fraudster,” I add with a shrug.

  Cannon’s eyes narrow, like he can’t figure out if I’m being straight with him or if I’m getting ready to tackle his ass. “I screwed up, brother. I misjudged you and I’m sorry.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why don’t we…uh…grab a beer or something?”

  I pause my cleanup efforts to meet his stare. “Cannon, Don’t take it personally, but this isn’t going to work. You don’t trust me, and I really don’t blame you. But I can’t be here. Send over whatever paperwork you need to dissolve the partnership, and I’ll sign it. Kingston Realties is yours.”

  I grab my shit and leave my brother standing shellshocked in the middle of the room.

  I pause at the door and point in his direction. “But I will take a rain check on the beer sometime. Your treat.”

  Then I walk out.

  56

  Jessa

  You don’t need him, Bridget! You don’t need him! You have your job and your apartment and your friends. You don’t need him and that fancy, new diary he bought you!” I jab my spoon in the direction of the movie screen and ice cream droplets fall into my lap. “You. Do. Not. Need. A. Man!”

  I must be getting a bit hysterical because the door swings open a crack and my sister pokes one eye in.

  “Alexia—can you believe this crap?” I gesture at the TV. “She has all this good stuff going for her and she’s about to throw it away for some guy!”

  I hit the back button on the remote, flipping away from one movie to another as I spend yet another morning multi-watching sugary romance films from the turn of the century.

  “Now, look at those fools!” I shriek pointing at the shivering couple bobbing in the middle of the Atlantic while their luxury passenger ship sinks into the depths of the ocean. “Okay, let’s be real. If she really wanted to save him from freezing to death, she could have just scooted over a little bit on that floating door.”

  I flip to another romantic classic where the couple is now making out on a dock in the rain.

  “Don’t kiss him, you idiot!” I say to the heroine. “Knee him in the balls and run. Run for your life! He says he wrote to you every day for a year but where did the letters go?! He’s a liar and if he broke your heart once, he’s gonna break it again.” With a groan, I switch off the TV and drop the remote onto the seat beside me. “I can’t watch this.”

  My sister opens the door fully and looks at me with a crinkled brow. “Honey, are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “Me? I’m fine,” I insist.

  “Well, it’s just that, you’re sitting here berating your favorite movies of all time. And you’re eating ice cream for breakfast for the third day this week. And I’m starting to get a bit worried about you.”

  I settle back down on the couch, curled up with my knitted blanket. I cuddle my breakfast bowl of ice cream protectively to my chest. This sugary goodness is about the extent of my happiness each day. I used to limit myself to only enjoying ice cream treats after lunch time. But for the sake of my mental health, I’ve recently added it to the morning menu, too.

  My sister settles next to me, her legs folded up beneath her. “You wanna talk about it?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not sure what there is to say…”

  Not only am I single and lonely, I’m also jobless. And to steal the cherry right off the top of my sundae, I’m homeless for the time being. There’s not much I can do about most of the inadequacies of my life. It’s hard to have a home without money. And as for love? Who in their right mind wants to date a homeless ice cream addict?

  But I’m lackluster-ly working on the jobless portion, the one area of my life where I might be able to pull back some control.

  I’ve applied to a few other nanny jobs around town, but my heart’s just not really into it. Plus, I couldn't exactly put Eli Kingston down as a job reference. I can only imagine how that reference check call would go.

  “Oh yes, I know Jessa. Unless she’s going by a different alias now? Would I consider her to be trustworthy? Sure! If you want her rifling through your personal belongings and private life history, she’s your girl. Especially if you don’t mind her obsession with ex-cons.”

  I’m lost in my pitiful day dream, just imagining my sad state of affairs, when my phone rings on the cushion next to me.

  When I don’t recognize the phone number, I immediately lose the blanket, sit up taller, and smooth down my wild, thick hair. I know they can’t see me, but this could actually be one of the nanny jobs I applied to, and good posture might give me that extra boost to sound confident on the phone.

  “Jessa! My girl!” a familiar voice greets me through the speaker.

  My bubble deflates and I emit an internal groan. It’s just my ex-boyfriend. No jobs a-calling for me.

  “Hey, Michael. How are you?” I try hard to hide the disappointment in my voice.

  “Are you sitting down? I’ve got good news for my favorite girl.” I suck in a breath. I hope he’s not about to ask me out again. “I am talking to Sunny Point's newest kindergarten teacher!”

  I frown, my wheels moving much slower than they normally would. All this TV and ice cream is really getting to my head. “What? I don’t…I thought I was going to get the job ages ago, but then they never called. The start date has already passed.”

  “I know, I know. I hate to tell ya, babe, but you weren’t the school’s first choice. They hired some other chick with twelve years of experience and a big fat resumé but that person bailed once she got a higher-paying job at some private school in Chicago—good riddance—and now they need you to start tomorrow.”

  My inner thoughts spill out. “I don’t care if I’m the tenth choice, as long as I got a job.”

  I really do need this. I never wanted to leave Crescent Harbor, but at this point, there’s not much holding me here. Maybe I need a fresh start. A clean break.

  I spend another few minutes on the line with Michael as he excitedly provides the rest of the details and we make last minute arrangements. It’s all sort of a blur, and I can’t concentrate on anything other than the fact that I need to show up with my teacher face on in less than twenty-four hours. Not to mention needing classroom supplies and an appropriate work outfit. Oh, and you know, finding a place to live would be right up at the top of that list, too, considering my car can’t reliably make the long drive back and forth between Cowersville and Crescent Harbor every day.

  I fill my sister in on this breaking development. I pack quickly, struggling to ignore the ache in my chest. I don’t have time to say goodbye to anyone here in Crescent Harbor, and I’m not sure if that makes it easier or not. But I do drive by the Kingston mailbox and leave a note for Diana and Lucas. They’ve been so good to me and it doesn’t feel right to just disappear without a word.

  My heart is heavy when I sink behind my wheel again and drive off. When I reach the fork in the road, with one path wrapping back toward the Kingston farm and the other branching off toward my home town, I hesitate.

  I let my car idle loudly, just sitti
ng there on the country road as fat tears fill my eyes until I can no longer see. I don’t know how much time has passed when a loud horn sounds behind me, making me jump. The dusty truck zips around me when I don’t move fast enough.

  I shake my head and turn on my blinker, sealing my fate. “Goodbye, Eli. Goodbye, Callie,” I whisper through my closed throat, wishing nothing but the best for that sweet child. And for her father, too.

  I can barely hold my cracked heart together as I watch Crescent Harbor grow smaller in my dirty rearview mirror.

  57

  Eli

  Electric undercurrents charge the glittering Strip. Lights and billboards and flashing things everywhere.

  Glitzy casinos. Gorgeous women. Endless booze.

  Sin Valley is a resort destination landlocked smack-dab in the middle of Red River, Iowa, about two hours north of Crescent Harbor. Known for its extravagant hotel-casinos, fine dining, night life and adult entertainment, it’s basically a mini-Las Vegas in the backwoods of Iowa. A neon-lit, middle-of-nowhere oasis where adults can come to spend exorbitant amounts of money and make bad life choices.

  And here I am. In a trendy nightclub. At my oldest brother’s bachelor party, a.k.a., the last place on Earth I want to be, especially with the state I’m in.

  Apparently, the stranger sitting next to me isn’t in a party mood, either.

  I was parked here on a secluded corner bench in this trendy ass club when Jason Bellino, the Iowa Paragons defensive safety, came and plopped down next to me like a sack of potatoes without even throwing a glance my way.

  “What the hell does she see in this guy?” he growls peevishly into the air, eyes locked on his phone.

  I keep my gaze straight ahead because I’m not sure he’s even talking to me.

  He speaks again. “I mean seriously. Look at this clown. Can you even believe this shit?!” He elbows me in the ribs and thrusts his phone at me.