Boardroom Bully: An Enemies-to-Lovers Dark Romance

by Harper West

“JoJo, no!” Becca shrieked.

  My head whipped up at the sound of that nickname as I brought the club down one last time against Tommy’s body. I wasn’t sure where I had hit him, but it rendered him silent as a glare took over my stare. Becca had tears streaking her cheeks. She kept panting for air as if she couldn’t catch her breath. Plus, her hands.

  I’d never forget the violent way her hands shook.

  “You’re going to kill him,” she said breathlessly.

  And as I stood there, processing the nickname and the memories that came with it, only one thought crossed my mind.

  I should kill him.

  So, I raised my club one last time and looked down at my balled-up opponent.

  “No! Stop!” I exclaimed.

  Even though my body was scared and tired and sore, I rushed to catch the golf club before it had a chance to connect with Tommy’s head. I gazed into JoJo’s angry eyes, trying to figure out where the hell this had all come from. For the second time since he had hired me, I was being saved by a man that claimed to not care about anything. For the second time this fucking month, he had come to my rescue and showed a side of himself that I would have never thought existed.

  Which made it harder to see him as a bad guy.

  “JoJo, look at me,” I said softly.

  His wild eyes met my own, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I’m okay. I’m safe. Just give me the golf club.”

  His eye twitched. “He was about to--.”

  I nodded. “I know, I know. But he didn’t. He didn’t because you were here. Thank you. Thank you for saving me, JoJo.”

  He growled. “Stop calling me that.”

  I slowly lowered the golf club while he was distracted. “My apologies, Mr. Ryker.”

  And when he looked down at Tommy, who kept writhing in pain while throwing up onto the concrete, JoJo drew in a sobering breath.

  “Call 9-1-1. He needs an ambulance,” JoJo commanded.

  I stuffed my hand into my purse. “Of course. I’ll get it done.”

  I leaned against the wall and watched JoJo pace with the golf club over his shoulder. I called for an ambulance and it didn’t take long for them to show up, but the police had a hell of a lot of questions for the two of us. JoJo was kind enough to escort them back inside the building so they could review the security camera footage from the garage. And as I watched them load Tommy into the back of the ambulance, I felt the adrenaline finally wearing off.

  Which caused my legs to buckle beneath me.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I gotcha,” a paramedic said.

  I started sobbing out loud, not caring about whoever saw. The kind man with big arms walked me over to one of the police cars and started looking me over, starting with the bruises on my wrist. Tommy had gripped me so tightly that he left marks, and with the way he shoved my skin against the brick I had little pock marks of blood rising to the surface.

  I just want to be done with this life.

  “Is there anything else you’d like me to look over before I head out?” the kind man asked.

  And that’s when I remembered. “Could you take a look at my tongue? I’ve got a few stitches underneath it from an accident I had at work.”

  He nodded. “Of course. Stick it out for me.”

  I showed him where the stitches were, and he snapped on some gloves. He lifted my tongue and looked all around my mouth before clicking his little flashlight off. The smile on his face made me feel comforted. His boyish features gave him an innocent look that drew me to him. And after he was done checking out my mouth, he stood.

  “Everything looks like it’s healing well. But are you sure you want to stick to that story?” he asked.

  I furrowed my brow. “Come again?”

  He thumbed over his shoulder. “Seems as if you have some troubles at work. Are you sure this is something you did to yourself?”

  I snickered. “I work a lot of overtime during the tax season. Big businesses like this one are selfish with deadlines and they don’t care about who they have to overwork in order to get things done on their own timeline. I was here late for work, I dropped my pen, and I cracked my damn chin against my desk at nine at night.”

  The man chuckled. “Well, make sure your boss knows to give you some time off. I don’t know much about big businesses, but I know what it means to be a decent human being. Make sure to advocate for yourself.”

  I blushed at his words of encouragement. “Thanks.”

  Then, JoJo cleared his throat. “Becca, would you like me to escort you back inside?”

  I peered around the paramedic. “I would like that, thank you.”

  His stare rooted me to my spot. “How’s your tongue?”

  I swallowed hard. “It’s good. At least, the paramedic says it looks okay.”

  The man nodded. “Yep. No signs of infection. The stitches are holding nicely. She just needs to follow up with her doctor at the appropriate time.”

  JoJo clicked his tongue. “I’ll see to it that she gets proper care.”

  The paramedic patted his shoulder. “Good for you for clocking that man, too. I would’ve done the same thing had I been in your position.”

  JoJo didn’t take his eyes off me. “Nice to know there are still decent men out there.”

  The paramedic smiled. “You two take care. And don’t hesitate to call us if you guys need anything in the future.”

  While I couldn’t believe I had been rescued by my bully yet again, there was something that rushed behind his eyes that took me by surprise. As the police and the ambulance and the fire trucks fled from the parking garage, Tommy and I stood there. Staring each other down until we were the only two in the underground concrete jungle once more.

  And as he took a step toward me, his eyes dropped to my mouth. “When were you going to tell me?”

  I shrugged. “Never?”

  His eye twitched. “You have stitches.”

  “I do.”

  “From…”

  He can’t even say it. “Yes, from that.”

  His face reddened as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Take the rest of the day off. Full pay. Just… go take care of yourself.”

  And as he turned on his feet to make his way for the elevator, I did the only thing I knew to do.

  “Mr. Ryker?”

  He jammed his hand into the elevator button. “What?”

  I gripped my purse in front of me. “Thank you for saving me. Again.”

  He peered over his shoulder. “Just get home safely. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Then, he stepped into the elevator before it swallowed him whole.

  While I tried to stuff down the fluttery feeling in my gut that he had left in his wake.

  He could’ve been so much more had my sister not hurt him.

  19

  Rebecca

  I wasn’t sure what overcame me or what possessed me to go back into the building, but I did. After slinging my purse into my backseat, I held tightly to my keys as I made my way back up to JoJo’s top floor. I needed to talk with him. If I was going to have any peace at home going into the weekend, I needed to ask him some questions.

  Even if they pissed him off in the process.

  “Didn’t I just send you home?”

  I slipped into his office and closed the door behind me. “Why do you keep saving me?”

  He flopped into his chair. “What?”

  I turned to face him. “Why do you keep coming to my aid if you hate me so much?”

  He scoffed. “I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone who works for me.”

  “Except Tommy?”

  “He no longer works for me.”

  I sighed. “For a little while there, you seemed like a normal guy. A man who didn’t have a vendetta out on someone that looks like me.”

  He didn’t bother looking at me. “Your point?”

  I sighed. “My point is, sure, you’re a bit weird behind closed doors. But, who isn’t? You have
potential, JoJo. The potential to be this wonderful, caring, dominant man.”

  “What makes you think I’m not any of those things already?”

  I scoffed. “For starters, how about the actions that got me wounded underneath your desk?”

  His eye twitched again. “If you’re trying to find some sort of decent person inside of the carcass of a living soul you see sitting in front of you, then don’t waste your time. Many women before you have tried to turn me into a decent guy after fucking their brains out, but it doesn’t work that way. People don’t change for others. What’s going on between us? It means nothing.”

  I took a step toward his desk. “And yet, I don’t believe you.”

  He shrugged. “Sounds like a personal problem.”

  I stood by the chair in front of his desk. “Why do you keep saving me, then? If you’re not a good guy?”

  And that’s when he slowly looked up at me. “Because I’m the only one who can make your life a living hell, that’s why.”

  “Are you still trying to stick to this idea of ruining me when I had nothing to do with what happened to you in high school? Are we really still acting like that’s the reason behind all of this?”

  His eyes slipped back to his computer. “You talk as if it’s not actually true.”

  “Oh, no. I know you can make my life a living nightmare. What I’m asking is if that will bring you any peace. Because no matter how miserable you make me, it’s not like Maggie’s going to ever know. You think you have a bad relationship with my family? I’ve got a worse one. I don’t tell them anything unless I absolutely have to.”

  “You took a weekend to go visit them. Must not be that bad.”

  I snickered. “Better than being here, and my family still openly calls me fat.”

  That got his attention. “You’re not fat.”

  I pointed at him. “A bad guy wouldn’t say that.”

  He groaned as he leaned back into his seat. “Becca, if you’re not going home, then go be of use somewhere else. I can’t deal with you just because you’ve got feelings because I beat some lowlife with a fucking golf club.”

  I felt my stomach hit the floor. “You’re really going to dig your heels into this bad boy persona of yours?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Think whatever you want. Just get the hell out of my space.”

  “I didn’t even do anything to you, JoJo. And you know damn good and well that I don’t look a thing like Maggie. She and I are complete opposites in every way. So, either tell me what in the world happened all those years ago so I can hate her, too, or get over it.”

  And that’s when he leapt to his feet. “Get the fuck out of my office or you’re fired!”

  He bellowed so loud over my head that my ears started ringing. My eyes widened as he balled up his hands into fists, ready to swing them in my general direction. I took a few steps back, watching as unadulterated and unfiltered anger washed over his face.

  “What did she do to you?” I asked breathlessly.

  He growled at me. “You don’t ever want to know. Now get. The fuck. Out.”

  I raced out of his office, stumbling over my own two feet as I bolted for the elevator. I wiped away my hot tears of fear and sorrow because I refused to cry over that man. If he wanted to wallow in his own anger and his own self-pity, then that was on him. But I sure as hell didn’t have to continue taking his abuse in the process.

  I’m going to take work home and call in on Monday.

  I rode the elevator down to my floor and bypassed everyone that might have wanted to talk with me. I slid into my office and gathered some paperwork that wasn’t as sensitive as our financial documents and I held them close to my chest. I eased back toward the elevator and took it all the way down to the parking garage, ready to get home and call it a damn weekend.

  But the second I got back to my apartment, there was a police officer standing in front of my door.

  “Uh, Officer? Can I help you?”

  He turned to face me. “Are you Rebecca Loren?”

  I nodded. “That would be me, yes. Is everything all right?”

  He held up his pad and pen. “I’m here to take your statement.”

  I blinked. “What statement?”

  “About the incident in the parking garage? At your place of work? Mr. Joseph Ryker told me you’d be pressing charges, so I need your side of what happened.”

  I’m pressing charges. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize--.”

  “He said you’d probably be too flustered to think about something like that, so he sent me over here to clarify things. You have a solid case with the audio and video Mr. Ryker turned over. We wouldn’t even need you in court, if you wanted to press charges. Just your signed, sworn statement.”

  “And Mr. Ryker told you this when?”

  He chuckled. “The man called my boss a few minutes ago. Told me it was urgent and top priority that I get over here and talk with you. But it seems like you don’t want to press charges. Am I reading this correctly?”

  Jesus, that man is so damn confusing. “It’s not that I don’t want to press charges, I just don’t want to have to deal with court dates and summons and having to be there. I just moved here and started this job a few weeks ago and--.”

  He smiled so kindly that it took me by surprise. “I’m just telling you what one of my contacts has said. My best friend is a public defender for the city, and he says that with all of the evidence we’ve got stacked against him all we’d need are pictures of your wrists to prove injuries to the court and your sworn statement. You won’t even have to appear.”

  I considered the idea. “Do you mind coming inside? I really need some coffee, and I’d be more than willing to pour you a mug.”

  He nodded. “That would be nice, thank you.”

  I unlocked my apartment door and let him inside, but I didn’t feel comfortable enough closing the door with us alone in my place. I set my purse on the couch and dug out my phone, ready to text JoJo and ask him what in the absolute fuck he had done. But the man had beaten me to the punch with a text of his own.

  A text that made me so confused that it angered me.

  JoJo: Yes, you’re pressing charges. And don’t think I won’t if you pass this up.

  “Ma’am?” the officer asked.

  I drew in a deep breath to keep my heart from exploding with frustration. “Yes, Officer?”

  I turned to face him and found him sitting at my kitchen table. “Is everything okay?”

  I sighed as tears rushed my eyes. “Just been a very long life.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yeah, it seems life’s getting to be that way for everyone.”

  I wiped at my tears as I walked over to my coffee pot. “Here, let me make us a fresh pot. It’ll only take a second.”

  The conversation with the police officer passed in a blur. I told him my side of what happened. I tried to answer his questions to the best of my ability while he filled in the gaps with the story JoJo had apparently fed him and hearing his side of things only served to make me more confused.

  JoJo had heard me struggling and his vision tunneled?

  It sounded like something out of a movie.

  “Well, ma’am, thank you for the coffee. It was delicious.”

  I stood to my feet and escorted the police officer to the door. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  He turned to face me as I opened the door. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?”

  I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”

  He sighed. “The paramedic that tended to you? I interviewed him as well. He says you’ve got old injuries on the bottom of your tongue. He says he was worried about how you got them. Care to clarify?”

  I shrugged. “What does that have to do with what happened in the parking garage?”

  “Nothing. Just wanted to make sure you felt safe here in your apartment. Or, you know, at your place of work.”

  Shit, shit, shit. Come up with so
mething. “Look, I—Mr. Ryker rides all of his co-workers, but it’s what makes us better. And now that tax season is behind us and all of the documentation is submitted, he’s giving all of us time off. Like right now, I’m taking the rest of the day as well as Monday at his behest. He gets that he’s been hard on us.”

  “What does that have to do with your tongue injuries?”

  I blinked. “That’s how I got it. Working late, dropped my pen, cracked my chin against the desk.”

  “A force to your chin like that on a sharp corner would’ve warranted stitches as well. At least, that’s what the paramedic said.”

  Jesus Christ. “Okay, look. I get it. I’m a frumpy, overweight, fuzzy-headed damsel in distress. At least, that’s how you and Mr. Ryker and the rest of this country sees me. But I’m more than that. I’m stronger than that. And when I say that I cracked my chin trying to get to my pen, what I mean is I had been working overtime for three weeks straight up until that point trying to get everything done and I was practically a zombie at that point. I could have crashed through a window and my body would’ve been so limp that it probably wouldn’t have injured me. So, if there’s nothing else, I’d like to go back to feeling like the strong woman I know I am instead of everyone accusing me of covering up how weak they believe me to be.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “You’re right, ma’am. My apologies. It’s just that we see so many abuse cases that sometimes we can misinterpret signs that aren’t really signs at all.”

  His words settled me a bit. “Never stop doing that. But I’m telling you—as God as my witness—I’m not one of those women.”

  His gaze gave me the old one-two before he closed his notepad. “Thank you for your time, Miss Loren.”

  I nodded as I ushered him out the door. “And thank you, Officer.”

  It was a relief when he finally left my apartment, and I was able to close my door. But, what in the absolute hell did JoJo think he was doing? Why in the living fuck would he call on my behalf and command me to press charges?

  If he wanted to torture me so badly, why the hell did he want to keep me safe?

  20