LOVING LEX: A Billionaire Romance (NIGHT OF THE KINGS SERIES Book 6)

by Shayne Ford

  Ten minutes past nine, I push out of my chair, stride across my office and walk down the hallway. The door to Sheila’s office is wide open.

  I toss a glance inside. It’s empty. I head to Human Resources where most of the new hires should be by now.

  A group of people fills the room. I skim their faces and walk away.

  I finally hear Sheila’s voice. Standing in the doorway of one of the cubicles, she talks to someone inside.

  “Are you sure?” she asks.

  That’s all I hear, and I instantly know.

  I plan on walking past her, acting as if I’m not interested in her conversation with Christine, Dahlia’s friend.

  Christine locks my eyes, and it doesn’t take a genius to realize she has a pretty good idea what happened last Friday.

  I wish I could pretend I’m not interested in her friend’s whereabouts, but I can’t.

  So I stop.

  “What’s going on?”

  My gaze shifts from one to the other.

  Sheila shifts her gaze briefly to Christine.

  “Thank you,” she says to her and gives her a small smile that confirms my worst suspicion.

  Discreetly, she nudges me to her office.

  I walk in, stop in the middle of the room, and place my hands on my hips.

  “What is it?”

  She closes the door and spins to me. Her cheeks are a bit flushed.

  “Well. Nothing much,” she mutters.

  That, to me, means that everything is worse than I thought.

  “Dahlia Fox called the Human Resources this morning. She quit her...” she pauses a little unsure what word to use.

  “PA job.”

  “Yes. And she’s no longer interested in the other position. So she’s no longer our employee.”

  I eat my first words.

  She looks at me circumspectly.

  “What is her friend saying?” I ask.

  “She couldn’t give me much information which is understandable. Apparently, Miss Fox has other plans. I find it strange though. I know how much she wanted this new job.”

  She locks my gaze for a moment, looking for an answer in my eyes.

  “Okay. Thanks,” I say, and I head to the door. “I’ll be back after lunch,” I throw at her over my shoulder.

  I call Dahlia a few times on my way to the elevator, and then a few more times as I walk across the underground parking.

  I didn’t expect her to answer.

  Thirty minutes later, I knock on her door.

  I expect to see her or Elsa. Instead, I’m greeted by Junior.

  His eyes light up.

  “Hey, man,” he says, attempting to fist bump me.

  I go past him and throw a glance inside the apartment.

  He closes the door behind me.

  “What was your name again?” I ask, turning to him.

  “Connor,” he says, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

  He slides his hands into his jeans, his lean torso clad with an open shirt. A tank top peeks from underneath.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, sounding a bit arrogant as if he’s the guest and I’m the host.

  His smile dies out.

  “Working,” he says, tipping his chin and motioning to the laptop sitting on the kitchen table.

  “Where are the girls?”

  “You want to come in?” he says, gesturing to the kitchen.

  I shoot him a quick glance and walk inside.

  Silent, I take a seat.

  “I only have coffee,” he says with a soft voice, and something about him makes me relax a little.

  “I’m good,” I say, placing my elbows on the table.

  “Are you going to tell me?” I ask, a bit impatient.

  “Yeah... yeah.”

  He takes a seat as well and closes the laptop.

  “Elsa’s downtown. She’s interviewing for a job.”

  “Dahlia?”

  He looks at me, studying me for a moment.

  “She’s gone.”

  My eyebrows lift.

  “Gone?”

  “Yeah. We took her to the airport.”

  “Airport?” I almost start to chuckle. “Where did she go?”

  “San Francisco.”

  “On vacation or something?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Nah-huh. She moved away.”

  Tension sets in my jaw.

  “How could she move? She was here Friday night,” I say, and he shrugs.

  I ponder for a moment, and he studies me.

  “How are her bruises?” I ask.

  “Better. They look worse, but they’re getting better.”

  “Where is she staying?”

  “A friend.”

  “You know that friend?”

  He shakes his head.

  “I barely know Dahlia. I just hooked up with Elsa. She was my brother’s girlfriend,” he offers, unrelated to the topic.

  He gets a glimpse of my eyes and starts focusing.

  “Anyway. Long story short, I don’t know much about them,” he says.

  I look around.

  “And yet they let you live here.”

  A soft smile curls his lips.

  “I’m not a bad guy,” he says with a mellow voice, his face lit up with a soft smile.

  I almost forget about my problems.

  I dip my gaze to my hands.

  “Do you know why she left?” I ask with a softer voice, yet just as serious.

  He stays quiet for a moment. I flick my eye to him.

  “Because of you,” he says bluntly, holding my gaze.

  “Did she say that?” I ask incredulously.

  “She didn’t need to. I know women,” he says, giving me a small grin.

  He finally gets my full attention.

  “Do you?” I ask, pushing back a smile.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  I’m mesmerized.

  “When we picked her up, Friday night, she wasn’t mad because of the accident, your car, or her knees,” he says. “She was mad because of you. And later on, when you came here and spent some time with her in the bathroom...”

  He pauses.

  “Uh-huh...”

  “I think I know what happened there,” he says.

  “What exactly do you think it happened?”

  “She kicked you out.”

  My eyebrows tilt up.

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  “Same thing happened to me with Elsa,” he says.

  I bite my lip to push back a grin.

  Silent, I lean back against the chair and cross my arms over my chest.

  “And?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

  I’m dying to hear the rest of the story.

  A cheeky smile tilts his lips.

  “And here I am. Living with her. We made up the very same day. We fucked so hard, I almost got her pregnant,” he says without the slightest trace of humor in his voice.

  My jaw hurts from trying to keep my mug under control.

  “What makes you think it’s the same kind of situation?” I ask, barely keeping my face straight.

  “As I said before...”

  My hand shoots up.

  “Got it. You know women...”

  “Yeah, man. It’s not that hard. Elsa was pissed with me because I was such a flirt and made her fall for me, and then I started to play with her, yet I wasn’t making my move. That’s what made her mad. And that’s how I ended up with a slap on my face. At the time, she was still seeing my brother. Jordan knew I stuck my nose in their business, and he wasn’t happy either. He wanted to kill me at one point,” he says, without the slightest inflection in his voice as if he talks about something trite. “But that’s life man. Some women are hot-blooded. I like them that way. I bet you do too.”

  I nod, spellbound, and then I study him for a moment.

  “Yeah... Well. You’ve been of great help,” I say, scraping my chair back against the floor.

&
nbsp; “What I wanted to say,” he mutters without making the slightest move. “She may have moved away, but the only reason she did it is because she loves you. Now, if she’s mad at you because of another woman, then things get a bit complicated. She has that kind of love for you that can’t forget or forgive. I’m not saying all is lost. You may still have a chance with her, but you have to tread carefully. If you think you like her and want another shot at her, there’s only a very small window of opportunity to get her back. I’m just saying...”

  I weigh him for a moment.

  “What kind of work do you do?” I ask after a few moments of silence.

  “Cybersecurity.”

  “If you ever need a job, call me,” I say, pushing out of my chair.

  I plop my business card in his hand.

  He rises as well, a smile glinting in his eyes.

  “Thanks, man,” he says enthusiastically.

  “Do you know her friend’s address?”

  He shakes his head.

  “No, but I can find out.”

  “Call me then.”

  “Cool, man.”

  We shake hands, missing the fist bumping by a hair, and I vanish out the door.

  This day couldn’t be weirder.

  5

  Weeks later.

  DAHLIA, San Francisco

  “How’s Connor?”

  “Good. Growing.”

  “Growing up or growing on you?”

  Elsa’s laughter rolls in my ear.

  I shift my phone from one hand to the other as I sling my backpack across the shoulder and get ready to leave work.

  “Both,” she says.

  “Wait a second,” I say to her as I push through the door of the bakery store.

  One of the girls waves me goodbye. I wave her back.

  The sidewalk burns under my feet. It’s almost eight o’clock in the evening, and the air is hot, the sunset a hazy blotch on the sky.

  My cotton dress clings to my body. Even though is light and breathy, the fabric feels too much against my skin. I start walking up the street.

  The good thing is, the apartment is only a few blocks away.

  “How’s mom?”

  “Good. Bad.”

  “Which one?”

  “Both. She can’t make peace with the fact that you moved away. To her, it makes no sense. Now that I’m back and you’re gone, she’s even more baffled. She wants us both close to her. ”

  “You’re not living with her anyway.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We see each other on Sundays. And she keeps asking me about you.”

  “I talked to her two days ago.”

  “No, no... It’s not about talking with her. She was under the impression that you had a good job lined up. The one that you had worked so hard for. Moving to San Francisco to work in a bakery makes no sense to her.”

  “I’m not gonna work here forever. It’s only temporary. I’ve already had a few interviews.”

  “What kind of jobs?”

  “Some of them are management. A few executive assistant positions as well. I’ll find something. Tell her not to worry,” I say and pause.

  “Anything else?” I ask after a few moments.

  Silence comes from the other end.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Anything new in town?”

  “Nothing I can think of.”

  “Are you back at Silver?”

  Her answer comes after a pause.

  “I started to work on weekends, but don’t tell mom.”

  “I won’t.”

  I go silent for a moment, pondering.

  “How are things over there? Is Tasha still working?”

  “Oh, yeah... You know her. She loves money,” she says. “You could’ve done the same thing instead of moving away.”

  “No way in hell.”

  “Well... I guess you know better.”

  “Is Connor okay with it?”

  “He doesn’t have much of a choice.”

  “Have you heard from Jordan?”

  “He moved to New York. Good thing he left. He was intense,” she says.

  She sure knew how to bring that intensity out of him.

  “So, um...” I start and quickly halt.

  “Yes?”

  “Have you seen any of the people I know at Silver?” I ask, glaringly beating around the bush.

  She doesn’t answer right away.

  “You mean any of the bad boys?”

  A smile lines her voice.

  “Yeah... ”

  “No.”

  “You can tell me.”

  “No, no. Seriously.”

  “Are you telling me you haven’t seen Lex Harrington since I left?” I ask incredulously.

  “Why are you so surprised? It’s not as if we’re buddies or anything,” she says jokingly. “I haven’t seen any of them at Silver,” she adds, serious this time. “At least not the evenings I worked on. Why are you asking? Are you missing him?” she asks, a smile tinging her voice.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You thought he’d come looking for you?”

  “No, I didn’t,” I say curtly.

  “Good. Because even if he wanted to, he had no idea where you were.”

  “That’s why I asked.”

  “Nope. Haven’t seen him since that eventful evening.”

  My phone flashes an incoming call.

  “I gotta go. Christine is calling me.”

  Elsa hangs up.

  “Hi, Chris. I’m almost home. Can I call you in a few minutes?”

  “Sure.”

  I shove my phone into my backpack, stop in front of a food store and glance down the street as I pull the door open.

  A black car with tinted windows slowly crawls up the slope. Something makes me keep my eyes on it as it passes by.

  A week later

  DAHLIA

  Me: I think it’s good.

  Chris: Still waiting?

  Me: Yup. I just met with the Executive Director. The interview went well.

  Chris: Man or woman?

  Me: Woman. She was nice.

  Chris: What are you waiting for?

  Me: She said there might be another interview before they make a decision.

  Chris: The job is yours then.

  Me: I hope so.

  I set the phone on the chair next to me, retrieve a napkin from my purse and dab at my brow. The AC blows cold in the spacious waiting area, but for some reason, all I feel is heat.

  No other candidates are waiting, which is a good sign and gives me hope.

  The door to Karen McCoy’s office opens a couple of times. Her current executive assistant goes back and forth between her cubicle and her boss’ office. Every time she steps out, my eyes connect with hers as I’m hoping for an answer.

  Other than an impersonal smile, I get nothing, yet my hope is still intact. If I get this job, I’m out of a big jam. Although I have to admit, I grow restless by the minute.

  I spent most of the morning here. It’s the top floor of one of the most expensive hotels in San Fransisco. The flagship hotel of an international luxury chain.

  I hit it off with Karen Mccoy right from the start. She even called the recruitment agency to thank them for matching me with their company.

  It all went well up to this point, but I’ve been waiting for almost forty minutes now, and my confidence begins to crumble.

  I pick up the phone and send another text message trying to forget about my nerves.

  Me: What’s new there?

  Chris: Same old. I haven’t seen our big boss in a while.

  Me: It’s summer.

  Chris: Maybe. Sheila keeps saying he needs a woman.

  Me: Ha ha.

  Chris: That’s what I said.

  The door cracks open.

  “Miss Fox?”

  I toss my phone into my purse and rise to my feet.

  Karen McCoy smiles at me from the doorway.

 
“Can you please come in for a moment?”

  “Sure.”

  I pick up my bag and enter her office.

  She closes the door and shows me to a chair. The same one I spent an hour or so in this morning, being interviewed by her.

  She walks around her desk, takes a seat, slides her phone to the side, and rests her elbows on the surface.

  A few moments pass by as she ponders over something.

  They feel like an hour.

  “We are ready to make you an offer...” she says, and I sense a ‘but’ coming. “But before we do that we have a question for you.”

  It strikes me as odd the fact that she suddenly uses ‘we’ instead of ‘me’.

  “Yes?” I ask with a faint voice.

  “Would you by any chance be interested in a similar position overseas?”

  My eyes widen with surprise.

  “You have mentioned that you love to travel and you haven’t had the chance to explore that interest of yours much. This would be a great opportunity. Your set of skills and experience with Sexton International is invaluable to us. Not to mention the fact that you speak French and Italian.”

  She smiles. A reaction to my bafflement.

  “We reimburse the expenses you would incur with the relocation. You can also rent one of the places we subsidize for our International employees.”

  “Are you in the process of moving overseas?” I ask, intrigued.

  She tips her chin slightly, a small smile curling her lips.

  “No, no. You wouldn’t be my assistant. You’d work way above me,” she says. “You’d work directly with our company CEO.”

  “Would I?” I ask, surprised.

  “Yes. If for any reason you cannot accept this new position, our local offer is still valid,” she says with a reassuring voice.

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  “Okay... Sounds good. What do I need to do?”

  “If you can wait for a few more minutes, you’ll meet the man you’ll work for. He’d like to interview you as well.”

  “Sure,” I say.

  She checks the time on her phone before she pulls out of her chair.

  “He should be in any minute,” she says, and smoothly vanishes out the door.

  The more time passes by, the more nervous I become. Voices start drifting through the hallway, doors opening, and closing.

  I hear a noise behind my back. I flick my eyes over my shoulder just as a man enters the room.

  My jaw drops.

  Instinctively, I push out of my chair.