The Consequence of Falling: (An enemies-to-lovers office romance)

by Claire Contreras

  “Right.” I walked over to him and pressed my hip against the island. “Did any of them ever catch you?”

  I didn’t even know why I asked. I really didn’t want to know. How upsetting would it be if one of my friends had managed to land him back then when I couldn’t and I’d known him longer? What if it was someone I kept in touch with?

  “The one I wanted never tried.”

  “Oh.” Something squeezed inside my chest. I’d tried many times, so he obviously was not talking about me. I pushed off the counter and started walking away. “I’m going to go book the extra ticket. It’d be nice if you give me a heads-up for the rest of the cities you’re thinking about joining us, by the way. This whole getting extra tickets thing so last minute is a bit annoying.”

  “If you can’t handle such simple things, how the hell are you going to run a business, princess?”

  I bit my tongue, hoping to remain in control of the situation. It was something I often did with Adam. He’d say something that made me want to murder him, and I’d smile and bite my tongue, picturing myself doing it but not actually going through with it. There was power in holding back emotion. Of course, I hadn’t achieved Morgan’s level in this, but I was perfectly content with what I did now. Giving him one last glance, I walked away. I’d half expected him to follow me, but I was glad he didn’t. Why did I even care that he hadn’t wanted me back then? In the grand scheme of things, what did it matter? You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you. He was such a liar. I reached into my back pocket and touched the key he’d given me. He hadn’t even given his ex-girlfriend a key. It doesn’t mean anything, because Nathaniel Bradley had offered this option to my father, not me. His actions reflected his respect for my father. Nothing more. Never nothing more.

  Twenty-Two

  I took a deep breath as I approached a mob of journalists that had gathered in front of my father’s building. There were only four of them, but their camera crew made them eight, and in turn, felt like a mob. They all walked over to me in a wave.

  “Mrs. Delaney—”

  “Miss Rose,” I corrected.

  “Miss Rose, what do you have to say about Mr. Delaney’s cheating scandal?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Is his infidelity the reason you are divorcing?” another asked, bringing her microphone up to my face. I put a hand up to lower it. They were so fucking rude.

  “Why don’t you address these questions to Mr. Delaney himself? I’m sure he’ll be of better assistance to you,” I said. “I’m not the one who’s sitting in office.”

  “There are reports circulating that he had an affair with the senator’s wife. Can you confirm this?”

  My eyes widened slightly. Jesus, Adam. I shook my head, trying to keep my breath under control. “I don’t know anything about that. Adam and I haven’t been together for quite a while. What he does with his private time is none of my concern.”

  “The senator is the biggest donor the foundation has,” another one chimed in. “There are rumors that Adam is funneling some questionable money into his campaign from the foundation.”

  “This may be your only opportunity to speak on the matter and clear him,” another said.

  At that, I scoffed, shaking my head. I powered through them, demanding them to part way for me to get into the building. As I pulled the door open, I looked back one last time. “I have nothing but respect for Adam Delaney. Our marriage may not have worked out, but our friendship remains the same. I would appreciate it if you’d stop following me around.”

  I wasn’t sure how I managed to keep my head held high as I walked through the lobby and into the elevator. I couldn’t tell you who was riding up with me or what they said as I nodded. My ears were ringing loud, a mix of the reporter’s words and my regret filling them. It was a miracle I heard the elevator ding when I got to my floor. I waved at the receptionist sitting in front of the big White Oak Beers sign and walked passed Rosa, who was on the phone and to my dad’s office, knowing it would be empty. I pushed it open and placed the envelope on the corner of his desk, the way I always did the Monday before our trip. I could’ve easily taken it to his apartment, but this way he had a reason to come down to the office. It was another way I felt connected to him throughout this mess. When you feel like your grasp on your life is slipping, you cling on to things you can still control.

  After setting it down, I stood in the middle of the office and looked around. What would I do once he was gone? Would I really fight to keep the remainder of the company or would I sell it all to Nathaniel? The thought made my heart hurt, but these were things I really needed to think about. Dad was meeting with lawyers and doctors and all sorts of people and unfortunately he wasn’t a man who liked to let his family in on those meetings. It was as if he thought having me be part of the process would shield me from the pain. As if the pain itself didn’t come from the thought of losing him and having to live the rest of my life without him. He’d never see me happily married, never see my children, never see whatever it was I accomplished career-wise, whether it be effectively running the brewery or the company, or something else altogether.

  With a deep breath, I walked out of the office and closed the door. I made my way to my office, which was now complete, and sat behind the desk. It was a similar desk to the one Nathaniel had in his office. I wondered what his other office looked like, the one in Queens I knew he worked out of a couple days per week. I’d heard about it from Dad, and in all honestly was dying to go see it but I couldn’t just show up there. I reached for the key he’d given me. The one I’d attached to its separate keyring, careful not to mix it with my others, as if the key would get too comfortable there blurring my emotions about where we stood. He didn’t even give a key to his ex-girlfriend, I reminded myself of that once more. What the hell did I care? My phone buzzed. I let go of the key as if I’d been caught doing something illicit and answered Adam’s call.

  “I saw you on the news,” he said.

  “Okay?” I leaned back in my chair. “Did you call me to criticize my wardrobe or to tell me what I should have said?”

  “Presley, don’t be like that.”

  “Like what, Adam? Honest?”

  He was quiet for a beat. “Thank you for defending me.”

  “You’re welcome.” I closed my eyes. “Why were they saying the thing about the foundation?”

  “You know how reporters are. They spin whatever story they want.”

  “Yeah, but how would they even know what money is going in and out of the foundation and what it’s being used for?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You were the one who said you had a leak in your office.” I opened my eyes and switched my computer on, typing in the first news outlet I could think of. Sure enough, there I was, smack in the middle of a headline: Beer Heiress Denies Delaney Wrongdoing. “Beer heiress? What the fuck does that even mean?”

  “You know how they are.”

  “Adam, you need to get your shit together. I agreed to let you keep the foundation because I didn’t in a million years consider the possibility of you using it for shady political shit. Are you really that low? Have you forgotten all of those values you like to unleash on everyone?”

  “I haven’t,” he said, his voice rising, “But in case you forgot, I have a million fucking people breathing down my neck with their demands and I have to try to keep the peace somehow.”

  “In conclusion, the media isn’t lying. You’re using the foundation to benefit yourself.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “You didn’t have to.” I clutched the phone tighter. I have nothing but respect for Adam Delaney. Why the hell had I lied so blatantly? I had nothing but loathing and disgust right now. “I want my name completely off any papers that have to do with the foundation. I have things to do. Goodbye, Adam.”

  “Wait. I need a favor.”

  “When do you not?” I rolled my eyes.
“What is it now?”

  “I need you to come to the auction with me this weekend. You know, clear the air a bit. Let people see we’re capable of working together.”

  “But we’re not,” I said. “Working together. You made sure of that when you demanded to keep the foundation to yourself, which I’m grateful for now, and which is also why I need my name out of there.”

  “Please?”

  “I can’t. I won’t even be in town this weekend.”

  “Because you’ll be off traveling to a new ballpark with your dad? This is important, Presley.”

  “Fuck you, Adam. My father’s more important than your stupid web of lies.”

  I hung up the phone and slammed it on my desk. It took me two counts to twenty to calm down. There was a knock on my door two seconds later, followed by Nathaniel peeking his head in before I could tell him to come in. I raised an eyebrow.

  “Seriously? What if I was changing?”

  “Why would you be changing?”

  I blinked. “Because I’m going to the gym? Or something?”

  “Or something?” He chuckled, a sound that didn’t sound warm at all, and walked inside, closing the door behind him. He took a seat across from me. He looked pissed, those dark blue eyes narrowed on me. “The building inspector is scheduled to arrive at the brewery any minute. You should be down there, not giving interviews or sitting around here doodling.”

  “I am not doodling.” I slammed my palm on the desk. “I came to drop some things off. I’m going over there now.”

  “Good.” He stood up.

  I followed. “Why are you being such a jerk to me?”

  He blinked. “Am I?”

  “Uh, yes,” I sputtered. We were walking side by side toward the elevator.

  “Because I’m telling you what you need to get done for the business you signed up for?”

  I shot him a look. “You’re not my boss.”

  “Technically, I am,” he said. “And here’s the thing, princess, I know you’re not used to having actual responsibilities on your shoulders but people are depending on this brewery opening. People like Ezra who left the main brewery to help you out with this one and needs to sustain the job, people like the bartenders you hired and the waiting staff, and what about the night chef? All of these people are depending on this opening in two weeks. They’re not going to understand that there’s a delay in their paychecks because they see you giving interviews on the news.”

  This was the second time he’d pointed this out to me and he wasn’t wrong. I knew he wasn’t. A part of me was in full agreement with everything he said, but I was also pissed. Pissed that he sounded so condescending every time he wanted to drive a point home. He had no idea what it was like to be hounded by the press and constantly be asked questions about my divorce. He had no idea what it was like knowing that Adam was most likely using the foundation for ulterior motives and I’d let it go because I felt like I was in over my head all around. He had no idea what it was like to be in my shoes. I jabbed the button for the elevator and faced him.

  “I don’t expect you to understand everything going on in my life right now, but you seriously need to work on being nicer.” I pulled the key he’d given me out of my back pocket and handed it to him. He took it, confused. “I don’t need or want any favors from you.”

  I stepped into the elevator and glared at him as the doors closed between us. I’d had enough of men treating me like shit. Surprisingly, I was completely calm as I walked through the lobby. I felt light. Was that what standing up for yourself felt like? If so, I could definitely get used to it. I pushed through the circular door smiling and smiled wider when I realized there were no longer any journalists out there. I was halfway down the block when I heard my name being shouted and turned to see Nathaniel beelining toward me. He seemed out of breath when he got to me.

  “What are you—”

  “Here.” He put his hand out. Instinctively, I opened mine, blinking up at him when I saw the key I’d given him back.

  “No. I don’t—”

  “I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t care that you don’t want my help, I’m going to give it anyway. I don’t care that you think I’m an asshole, I’m going to give you my opinion anyway. I expect the same from you because contrary to what you may think, I’m not doing any of this to hurt your feelings. I’m doing it because I believe in you and I know you can do better.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ll see you at my place later.”

  I swallowed. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Please be at my place later.” His brows furrowed as if he couldn’t believe he wanted me there. “I know I’m a jerk sometimes but . . .” He exhaled heavily, running his fingers through his hair. When he zoned in on me again he looked like he was still trying to find words. “I’m sorry. But please be at my place later.”

  I couldn’t believe I was nodding. “Okay.”

  “Good luck with the inspection, princess.” He winked and turned around, walking back to where he came from as if he hadn’t just completely flipped my world on axis. He has no clue. No clue that his words and attitude made him out to be a total asshole. “I’m doing it because I believe in you and I know you can do better.” How was that possible? And why had that softened my heart somewhat? Shit.

  Twenty-Three

  I held my breath as I followed the inspector around the brewery. He kept looking at things and making notes on his electronic device. By our third go-around, I started chewing on my fingernail. What if we didn’t pass the inspection? What if he made me get the electrician out here again? As it was, he’d taken a billion years to come add more outlets. I couldn’t imagine having to wait for him again. I massaged my temple as I watched him walk outside. What if he said something about the way Nathaniel had installed the lights? Fuck. Why was it so damn difficult to open up a brew house? The inspector made his way back to where I was, standing in front of the main bar. He turned the clipboard around and tapped his pen on it.

  “Sign here.”

  “Okay.” I took the pen from him and looked at him. My chest hurt from not being able to breathe correctly. I couldn’t bring myself to sign the paper. I scanned it to see what it said but all I could see were check marks. “But . . . what does this mean?”

  “It means, I fully expect to get a free beer as early as next week,” he said, grinning. “Everything looks perfect.”

  “Oh my God.” I breathed, rushing my signature on the page. “Thank you so much.”

  “No need.” He took the clipboard, gave me a copy of the paper, and looked around. “It’s a damn good brewery. Good luck with the opening.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled wide as he left.

  We’d passed all of the inspections and were ready for business. Take that, Nathaniel. I took out my phone and scrolled until I landed on his name. I’d had it saved from when I was younger but I couldn’t recall using it once. I guess I’d never wanted to, but right now the urge was unbearable. I texted.

  Me: Hey, according to the inspectors, we’re set to open.

  I stared at my phone a while waiting for his reply. When I didn’t get one, I put it in my back pocket. He was probably busy, but I hoped he’d get the text before I headed to his place. As it was, I was having serious doubts about staying over, especially after we had sex. No. Because we had sex. Mind-blowing sex that I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about. It felt wrong to feel this way about him. I’d spent so much of my life being angry at every word he said and now I was vying for it. I focused my energy on re-arranging the long picnic tables, which were nearly impossible to move, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. The only people who called me instead of texting were my mom, dad, and Adam, and I didn’t want to speak to any of them at the moment, but I pulled it out anyway, surprised when I saw Nathaniel’s name on the screen.

  “Hey.”

  “Not Your Princess?” he asked, laughing. “That’s what you saved your number under?”

>   “I forgot about that.” I laughed.

  “Well, you’ll be thrilled to know that I’m going to drop the Not part and keep the rest.”

  “Oh my God, you better not,” I groaned. “I should’ve just saved it under my name.”

  “I would’ve changed it anyway.” I could hear a smile in his voice. For some reason, it made me keep smiling. “Are you at Hops now?”

  “Yeah. We passed all of the inspections, so we’re officially set to open.” My voice was cheerful.

  “You did it,” he said, and I could definitely tell he was smiling now.

  “We did it. I’m just re-arranging these ten-ton tables that I can barely move.”

  “What else do you have to do there?”

  “Honestly?” I looked around. “Nothing crazy. I’ll be cleaning all day tomorrow. The graffiti artists are coming in the morning. The beer guys come on Friday, but Ezra’s handling that and the kitchen and bartenders we hired are from Jamie’s parents’ restaurant, which means they’re fully trained. They come Monday. I think everything is finally falling into place.”

  “I’m sending you an Uber,” he said. “He’ll drop you off at my office. By the time you get here, I’ll be done and we can go celebrate.”

  “Um . . . okay. Yeah. That would be nice.”

  I didn’t bother reminding him that I had a key to his place and would be there later, because I was dying to see his office and celebrating the brewery was definitely a good idea in my book. I locked up and rode the Uber in silence. Anticipation spread through me when the driver told me we we’re one minute away, and then stopped near the sidewalk.

  “This is the place?” he asked, pointing at the building beside us.

  I looked out the window. “I guess so. I’ll get off here either way. Thank you.”

  My high-heeled boots hadn’t even touched the ground before the door directly in front of me opened and Nathaniel walked down the stoop of the building. He was still wearing the dress pants I saw him in this morning, but he’d ditched his jacket and tie and rolled his sleeves up to expose his tattooed forearms. He looked comfortable and hot and it took me a minute to stop checking him out before I could speak.