***
My nerves ticked underneath my skin when I pulled into the parking lot the next day. I’d received a voicemail from Bob asking me to meet him in his office first thing in the morning. I immediately knew I was getting fired for doubting what he’d told me the very first day about Elise, and then wasting his time by questioning him.
I walked into his office to find him and another man talking. I hadn’t seen the guy around before, and from his expensive suit and demeanor, I was positive he didn’t work here. This job didn’t pay enough to wear a three thousand dollar suit – unless he owned the place.
My mind immediately began to scramble. Fuck, if he had the owner here that definitely meant I was getting fired.
“Hi Weston, this is Clint Parks,” Bob said, when he noticed me frozen in the doorway. “He’s Elise’s father. He’d like to talk to you for a moment.” Bob slid passed me and left the room.
“How are you doing, Mr. Snyder? I understand you just got your degree? That has to be exciting,” Clint said, his eyes narrowing on me. His words were complimenting, but this tone was more along the lines of “don’t fuck with me or I will ruin you.
I gulped. “It’s been a pretty interesting experience so far.”
“I’m sure you’ll do exceedingly well. So listen,” he said, not one for small talk. “I want to talk to you about my daughter. I apologize for her behavior yesterday. She has problems, she’s sick and that’s why she’s here. Since you’re new, I have a feeling you’re not going to be able to handle her and she’ll end up manipulating you into losing your job.”
I held my hand in the air. “Sir, I’m here to do my job. I wanted to look into it and …”
He cut me off. “If you look into it, there will be hell to pay for both you and her. The men she’s accusing are very influential, very wealthy, and very powerful. One of those men is myself and I won’t stand for it. I’m a very easy man to get along with, but not if you’re crossing me. Now, how much?”
I blinked, trying to take in everything he’d just said. Was he helping me or was he threatening me? Either way, I knew if I argued or went against him, I’d lose my job.
“How much what?” I asked, in confusion.
“How much do I have to pay you to keep your mouth shut?”
I took a step back. “Sir, isn’t that bribery? If you’re here to pay me off, does that mean it’s true?”
“Absolutely not,” he huffed. “It means that you sniffling around will cause more problems than me writing a check, especially when you find out it’s a lie. Your reputation, Sun Gate’s reputation, and mine will all be made into a joke.”
He pulled out a checkbook from his jacket pocket and set it down on the desk. My eyes shot forward at the click of his pen as he began to fill the check out. “Will that do?” He asked, handing it over. “I know you have student loans. Take the check. Pay off your loans and buy yourself something nice. Just stay away from my daughter and don’t drag yourself into her mess.”
My eyes almost bulged out of my head when I saw the amount. I took a deep breath and gripped the check in my hand. All of the student loans I’d racked up would be paid off and I’d be able to get a head start on starting my own practice.
“Okay,” I said, hesitantly.
He patted me on the back. “Good man.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
ELISE
I was hollow.
I was numb.
I had no fight.
I had nothing left inside of me.
I wished I hadn’t fell so hard and the pain wasn’t so cold. I’d finally let someone in and he’d ended up being a fraud. Everything I thought we had was a lie. I’d stupidly fallen for false hopes and bullshit deception. I’d allowed myself to be manipulated. I’d shoved all of my trust into Weston’s arms and he’d crushed them with his bare hands.
He should’ve told me. I wasn’t sure if it would’ve changed anything, but it could’ve. If he really felt for me like he’d said he did, he would’ve been open and honest with me, like he’d insisted I be with him. He should’ve told me about his mistake before it got exposed.
But he hadn’t had the audacity to do that. He’d led me to believe he was the good guy. But in reality, the good guys are never the good guys. Those are the worst guys. They’re the ones who are faking being the nice guy. I’d much rather prefer the ones who showed me up front they were assholes.
I sighed, falling back against the pillows in his guest bed. I’d taken all of my things in there. I couldn’t stand being in his bedroom, let alone his bed.
This was my first real break-up, which seemed a little unfair. From what I’d heard, your first heartbreak was supposed to be when you were a pimple-faced kid who found out Bobby actually had a crush on your BFF, and you threw rocks at him on the playground.
But go figure, my first break-up had to be a full-blown, fucked-up situation. The worst part was that I was internally struggling with myself to hate him. I was trying everything in my power to fill my heart with the hate I wanted to feel. I couldn’t bring myself to fully hate him.
Everything he’d done for me, the captivating emotions he’d made me feel, were colliding with the angry ones and pulverizing them. I think that’s the true definition of heartbreak. The love you have for someone outweighs the hate, no matter what they did. You don’t forget the romantic gestures or sweet words even after they’ve taken a hammer to your heart. You’re standing there, watching them leave, and still fighting with yourself to not beg them to stay.
Love was the most destructive poison you could consume.
After Weston left, I’d waited an hour before going back out to the living room and finding it empty. I didn’t know where everyone went, but I didn’t care.
I contemplated calling Holly, asking if I could stay at her place, but decided against it. Our friendship wasn’t there anymore. She’d want to go out and we’d get in trouble. She’d been texting me about giving Oliver another chance. It hurt to know my best friend didn’t have my best intentions at heart. That wasn’t a true best friend.
I knew what I needed to do. I had to come up with a game plan. I couldn’t crash at Weston’s place forever. He had to come home eventually, and there was no way in hell I was going to be playing roomies with him. It was time I put my big girl panties on and got my shit together. I was going to find a job and then get the hell out of Chicago. It was time I became my own savior.
“Here we go,” I said, grabbing my phone, and making the call.
CHAPTER THIRTY- ONE
ELISE
“Well, well, we meet again,” the arrogant voice greeted, meeting me at the door of his office. He stood in front of me with a grin on his face while his eyes roamed down my body. He laughed when I smacked his shoulder and then gave me a peck on the cheek.
“So we do,” I said.
He gestured for me to come in and take a seat. I eyed him when I sat down, his black suit perfectly tailored to fit his physique as he leaned back against his desk.
I’d narrowed down my options and decided to go with my gut. This is what I needed to do. I’d crossed my fingers dialing his number, hoping he wouldn’t hang up on me and listen to what I had to say. He’d happily agreed to meet with me the next day.
“You know, I was really surprised when I got your call,” he said, stroking his chin.
“I need a job,” I told him, straight up, not in the mood for small talk. I needed to know if he was going to help me out or if I’d need to be looking for a Plan B.
He pushed himself up, his eyes not leaving me, and fell down into his chair. He planted his elbow onto the armrest, tapping his fist against his lips. “A job?” He asked. “Why wouldn’t you go to your father for a job? I can guarantee the pay would be much better.”
I shook my head. “If I wanted to work for him, I wouldn’t be here. I want you to give me a job.”
“What type of job are you interested in?” He questioned. “What skills do you have?”
“Anyt
hing, really.” I had no work history. I had no college degree. I didn’t even know what type of job I was interested in. All I knew is that I needed money.
“Anything?” He fired back with a smirk.
“Anything that doesn’t involve your dick inside of my vagina,” I corrected, scrunching up my forehead.
“Well, that’s unfortunate.” I shot him a nasty glare and he held up his hand. “I’m kidding. I don’t sleep with people who work for me, but I’d probably make an exception for you.”
I crossed my arms across my chest. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“You can be my personal assistant.”
“Don’t you already have one of those?” I asked, referring to the woman who’d shot me a glare so evil I was afraid to walk in front of her, fearing she’d lodge a knife in my back.
“Do you need a job?”
“Yes.”
“Then quit asking questions. You start tomorrow. Eight o’clock. Don’t be late.” My muscles loosened and my lungs let out a rush of relief. Thank God. I was one step closer to my goal of being gone.
“Eight o’clock,” I told him, nodding and lifting myself up from the chair. “Oh, and I need one more favor.”
He laughed. “You haven’t even started yet and you’re already asking for favors?”
“I need an advance.”
“You need an advance?” He repeated slowly.
“Yes. I need new clothes.” I threw my hands down my body. I was wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I didn’t want to go home and get clothes, so I’d been working with what I’d packed when I’d left my house. “Obviously, I can’t wear this.”
He gazed at me with focus, shaking his head. “Okay, I’m not even going to ask.” He opened up a drawer and pulled out his wallet. “Don’t stand me up,” he said, handing me over five hundred-dollar bills.
“I’ll be here.” I turned around to leave, but paused before I’d made it out the door. “And Vincent,” I said, looking over my shoulder at him. “Thank you.”
He winked. “I got you, girl.”
CHAPTER THIRTY- TWO
ELISE
I glanced up from my ice cream bowl at the sound of someone unlocking the front door. I shut my eyes, counting to ten, and opened them back up to find a petite, dark haired girl walking in with an armful of grocery bags covering up half of her face.
“Here, let me help you with that,” I said, dropping my spoon in the bowl, placing it on the table, and getting up.
“Thanks,” she said, handing over a bag and I set it down on the counter. Weston had sent me a text saying his sister was coming over to grab some more of this clothes and drop off some things.
“Hi,” the girl said, wiping her bangs away from her forehead and then pushing her arm out my way. “I’m Cassidy, Weston’s sister.”
I blinked a few times before dragging my hand out and shaking hers. There was no mistaken the two were related. Her brown hair, the same color as his, was cut at the peak of her shoulders with blunt bags cut diagonally across her forehead. Her face was make-up free.
“Hi,” I squeaked out, wringing my hands together. Had he told her about me? Of course he had or she wouldn’t be here. I was curious as to how much she knew, and if he was aware her dad had raped me.
She started pulling groceries out. “He was right,” she commented, turning around and sliding items into the fridge. “You are gorgeous.”
I blushed, a soothing feeling running through me. Goddamnit. I didn’t want his compliment to make me happy, but it did. The fact that Weston had been complimenting me to his family made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Damn you, heart, you need to remember we hate him. He crushed us.
“Thank you,” I said, shyly, not sure what else to say. It would’ve been weird for me to tell her to relate the message of “kiss my ass” to her brother.
We quietly unloaded the rest of the groceries. “Okay, do you need anything else?” She asked, swiping her hands together when we were finished.
“No, I think I’m good. Tell Weston I should be out in the next week or two.”
She frowned. “I’ll let him know, but there’s no rush,” she said frowning, and dropping a few bills on the counter. “He said you like Chinese take-out and you’d probably need an egg roll fix soon.”
Hell no, I wasn’t going to allow him to worm his way back into my heart with Chinese food and chopsticks. “I don’t want his money,” I told her, snatching up the bills, trying to hand the money back over, but she held her hands up.
“I know what my father did to you,” she said out of nowhere, startling me, and I fell back against the counter. Her eyes dead set on mine, making it more difficult for me to hide my humiliation.
“What?” I asked, in shock. Why was she bringing this up?
“Weston, he told me. None of this is your fault, you know that, right?”
I glanced down at the tiled floor, scraping my sock covered feet against it before gaining the courage to look back at her. “Look,” I said, my voice turning harsh. “I appreciate you wanting to reach out, but I’m not a fan of talking to strangers, especially given who your family is.”
“I understand,” she said, gently. “If you do decide you ever want to talk, I know Weston left you my number. Call me, I promise I won’t say anything to him about you calling.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And one more thing.” I blew out an exasperated breath. I wanted her gone. “I know my brother hurt you, but give him a chance to explain himself. I’ve never seen him so distraught before. He loves you, and he never intended to hurt you. He was trying to protect you. He’s a good person, one of the best men I know. He was put in a tough situation and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.”
He loves you. Her words seared into my brain and then rushed down to bite into my heart. No, he didn’t love me. You don’t hide something that dubious from someone you love.
“I know care about your brother and don’t want to see him hurting, but I can’t do that. I can’t see him.” I slammed my eyes shut, praying to God I wouldn’t cry in front of her. “I can’t do it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY- THREE
ELISE
“You ever going to tell me what’s going on with you and your dad?” Vincent asked, propping his feet up on his desk, his emerald eyes searching mine from across his office. His ash-blond hair was freshly cut and combed to the side. I swear, the guy had more hair appointments than I did. Actually, I knew he did, because apparently it was in my ‘job description’ to accompany him to each one.
I shrugged. “Nothing to tell,” I muttered, dragging my eyes towards the floor in an attempt to mask the hatred sparking inside of me at the mention of him.
It was week four working for Vincent, or with Vincent, considering I’d been by his side almost every minute of the day. The man wouldn’t let me out of his sight. I was his personal secretary, dining companion, and shopping partner. I’d spent more time with him than I had with anyone else in my entire life.
When he went to meetings, I hung out in his office or ran simple errands. When I asked for more responsibilities, he told me I had to work my way up. But I knew it was really because there were no open positions. He’d given me the job because he wanted me there and probably felt sorry for me. I didn’t care. I’d take a sympathy job if it made me money.
I hadn’t heard from Weston or my father. I bought a new phone and changed my number with my first paycheck. Then I went apartment hunting, laid down a deposit on the second place I was shown and moved out of Weston’s apartment the same day.
Staying there had been killing me. Everywhere I looked were reminders of him and us. I spent the following week sleeping on an air mattress until my next payday. Luckily, Vincent was paying me pretty well, most likely more than any typical assistant.
“Oh come on,” he replied, clanking a pen against his teeth. “You’re Elise Parks. Everyone in this city knows who you are and your story. Your
dad has controlled every aspect of your life since you were born. He’s ruled you with an iron fist. You’d go out, raise havoc, and then disappear for a few weeks. Then the process would repeat. Now suddenly, you’re out on your own with no personal driver, no money, and no place to live. It doesn’t add up.”
He laughed again when I shot him an annoyed glare. “I’m a grown woman,” I huffed. “It was time I finally went out on my own and had my own life.”
A boyish grin spread across his face. “Ahhh … I see. You’ve blossomed and grown your wings. Fly little butterfly, fly.” I rolled my eyes as he dropped his feet and got comfortable in the red, leather chair.
His office was professional, but eclectic. Instead of going for the typical black furniture, everything was bright red. Instead of hanging up photography of planes and rewards he’d won, he had sophisticated photos of naked woman. It sounded trashy, but somehow he made it work.
He whistled before pointing a finger my way. “But now it’s time for a favor, my dear. I need something from you.”
“What?” I asked, skeptically, drawing in a brow. Favors, no, I didn’t do well with people asking me for favors. Favor was my least favorite word in the dictionary. It usually ended up with me naked and my legs spread open.
“I need a date,” he said.
I held up my hand to stop him from saying anything more. “Hell no. We’ve already been through this conversation. I’m not sleeping with you, Malone.”
He grinned in amusement. “Yet,” he fired back. “You’re not sleeping with me yet.”
He was convinced I’d eventually land in his bed. There was no way any woman had ever said no to him. He was sexy, successful, rich, and a smooth talker. He could make a girl wet with just one sentence.
But Weston had ruined me. The stupid, motherfucker who I was still in love with had wrecked me. He’d marred me from being with anyone else. There was no way I would be able to sleep with Vincent without thinking of Weston. I couldn’t even stand the thought of someone else’s hands touching me, let alone let them stick their dick inside of me. I was trying my hardest to fall out of love with him, but I hadn’t found the solution, or the strength to do that yet.
Pretty and Reckless Page 17
