Bad Boss (Unprofessional Bad Boys Book 2)

by Clarissa Wild

  “No, just …” He holds up his hand. “Just stay.”

  “Okay.” I sit back down on the chair in front of the desk. “I can do that.”

  He nods a few times and gazes down at the wood, breathing out air like a bull. “Sorry about that.”

  “It happens to all of us.”

  “Not me,” he says, still not looking at me. “At least, not normally.”

  “We all have our weak spot,” I reply. “I do too.”

  “Hmm …”

  I lean forward and place my hand on top of his. “If you wanna discuss it, I’m here.”

  He nods again, licking his lips as if he’s preparing for something big. “That was my brother. Flynn. He called because … well …” He sighs, and his eyes flash to me from underneath his lashes. “My mom’s not well. She’s in a facility. She’s got advanced Alzheimer’s.”

  “Oh … I’m sorry. That must be tough,” I say, holding his hand tight.

  “Flynn’s mad because I haven’t visited her in a while.” He chews the inside of his cheeks. “And I know. He’s right. I haven’t. And I feel fucking bad about it.”

  “It’s okay. It happens to all of us.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He pulls away from my grasp. “Who forgets about their mother? No one.”

  “You didn’t forget about her, did you?” I ask.

  “I didn’t, but I didn’t go to see her either.”

  “But you had your reasons.”

  “Reasons,” he repeats, spitting out the word like it’s poison on his lips. “I’m just lazy.”

  “No, you’re not,” I say with a stern voice. “That’s not true. Stop beating yourself up.”

  “I could’ve gone and visited her.”

  “But you chose not to. There must be a reason.”

  Again, that silent but powerful glance. Words aren’t always necessary to say what you need to say. And he does just that. He knows exactly why he hasn’t gone, but the guilt is still eating at him.

  “You did what you had to do,” I say.

  “To protect myself …” His eyes turn glossy. “But I do care about her. I love my mother.” When the tears start to fall, I rise from my seat and walk around the desk, hugging him tight.

  “I know, TJ.” I shush him. “You don’t have to say it. I believe you.”

  “But he doesn’t,” he growls. “He actually said I don’t give a shit about her because I haven’t checked in with him or Mom in so long.”

  I rub his back. “He’s just afraid he’s losing you.”

  “Fuck him.”

  “No.” I squeeze his shoulder to make him look at me. “He’s your brother. You love each other. That’s why you’re both so mad.”

  He grinds his teeth and looks away. “I only did it because I couldn’t focus on my work, and I couldn’t let go of my work. No way. This is too important.”

  “You made a sacrifice.”

  “How else was I supposed to concentrate on keeping the company running?”

  “But now you feel guilty for making that choice,” I say.

  He nods again, and I wipe away the tears running down his cheeks. “You can only make one choice in life, TJ. You made yours.”

  “And now I have to live with the consequences, which is a mother who thinks her oldest son is dead.”

  I bite my lip and pull him in for another hug. “I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

  It’s quiet for some time as I hold him tight. His fingers curl around my clothes, and he buries his face in my chest, sniffing hard. I know the smell comforts him, and soon his breathing becomes much less ragged.

  “Thank you,” he says as he looks up at me. “For being here.”

  “That’s what good girlfriends do,” I say.

  I’m proud to belong to him and proud that he belongs to me. Because underneath all that fun and ridiculousness lies an emotional, sensible, and loyal man who I’m so happy I got to know. And now that he’s let me into his life, I can only feel grateful.

  But I do hope he didn’t hear the word I said because I’ll be damned if I admit I like him that much.

  “Girlfriend?” he mutters, raising his brow. Shit. I guess he did hear. “And here I thought you weren’t planning on becoming my anything.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” I reply. “It still doesn’t mean you get to flaunt me around the office. It just means I decided I like you. That’s all.”

  “Aww …” He makes a pouty face which immediately makes me wanna slap and kiss him at the same time. “So are you saying I can’t introduce you to my mother either?”

  My lips part, but I don’t know how to respond.

  I’m just wowed.

  He wants to introduce me to his family already. That means we’re pretty serious. But the funny thing is, I’m not even sure I wanna say no.

  Somehow, the idea of him introducing me as his girlfriend makes me feel giddy inside.

  And that, in turn, makes me think, What the fuck is wrong with me?

  But I guess that comes with falling head over heels with your boss.

  You don’t get to decide what you feel … only what you do.

  And what I’m doing right now is grabbing him by the collar and kissing him right on the lips.

  He smiles as he kisses me back, murmuring, “Well, I guess that’s a yes then.”

  I grin. “Damn right, it is.”

  Chapter 23

  TJ

  We’re in the car together, driving toward my mother’s home. Well, home … more like a room. She shares the building with a bunch of other seniors, and nurses run around all day long. There’s no real sense of ownership even though she could say it’s ‘her room.’ Still, I guess it’s better than being out on her own.

  I sigh as I stare out the window, mentally preparing myself. A hand curls around mine, and when I turn my head, I see Lesley smiling at me. She can be so kind. Like she really wants to help me feel better. I can definitely tell she cares about me, and it only makes me fall more in love with her even when I’m not supposed to. I guess there’s no stopping it. She’s quickly becoming one of the few people I trust. I just hope she won’t run off after seeing my family.

  “You look worried,” she says.

  “Yeah.” I shift in my seat. “I haven’t seen my mom in a long time.”

  “It’ll be okay,” she says.

  “But what if she’s mad at me? I should’ve been there for her,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “It’s not okay.”

  “You had your reasons, and there’s nothing wrong with them. You can explain it to her, can’t you?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure she’ll understand.” I swallow and stare out the window again. “Besides, my brother will probably be there, and he’ll judge the shit out of me.”

  “Maybe you guys just need to talk it out.”

  She keeps staring at me as if she can look right into my soul, and it’s kinda scary. Am I that easy to read? Maybe she’s just become skilled at seeing straight into me. Still, she doesn’t know how bad it’s gotten between me and my brother. And I’d rather not discuss it.

  “Maybe,” I say, clearing my throat.

  “Why maybe? Why not just do it?” she asks.

  “Because it’s complicated.”

  “Life always is.”

  “This is different,” I reply. “You don’t know what went down between us.”

  “Tell me then.” The genuine look of interest on her face makes me wanna open up, but I’m finally in such a good space with her, and I don’t wanna screw that up.

  “My brother and I just have our difficulties; that’s all.”

  She snorts. “What kind of corporate bullshit sentence is that?”

  I release her hand. “All I’m trying to say is that it’s not as easy as you think.”

  “Yeah, it is,” she says, folding her arms. “It’s called talking things out. Like grown-ups do.”

  “He’s not your brother. Why do you even care?”

>   “Because I care about you.”

  I raise my brows. “Oh, really?”

  A soft blush spreads across her cheeks. “Don’t pretend like it’s a big deal. It’s not.”

  “If you say so,” I muse, a smile tugging at my lips.

  “You’re my boss,” she adds.

  “Uh-huh …” She can’t hide the fact that she likes me as more than just as a walking fuck toy. Nope. I’m not falling for that. Not that it matters because we’ve arrived at our destination. “We’re here.”

  “Great,” she says, a little too perky as if she’s actually excited to meet my family. At least one of us is. “Where do we go?” she asks as we both get out.

  “Upstairs,” I say, and I grab her hand. “C’mon.”

  I take her with me, past the doors and into the building where nurses greet us. We state our names and reason for our visit. Then we go up the elevator to room fifty-five, where I find a label with my mother’s name on the door. In case anyone forgets.

  These places always give me the chills. People go here because they can’t live on their own anymore, but to live here is not living at all. They’re ghosts. Forgotten members of society. No one can even remember their goddamn names.

  I can’t even bring myself to knock.

  A hand touches my back. “It’s okay. Take your time.” Lesley’s trying to comfort me, and even when I know it’s no use, I still appreciate the gesture.

  I take a deep breath and grab the handle then knock on the door twice.

  “Who is it?” my mom’s frail voice resonates.

  I swallow away the lump in my throat and push the handle down, so the door opens softly. “It’s me, Ma … TJ.”

  When I see her sitting in that chair, her frail body leaning against the wood like branches hanging from a tree, my heart sinks into my shoes. However, with Lesley’s fingertips pushing into the small of my back, courage surges through me, driving me to step forward and greet her.

  “TJ … it’s so nice to see you,” Mom says with her croaky voice as I approach.

  I kiss her on the cheeks. “Hi, Ma.”

  She rubs my back, her fingers feeling bonier than I remember them to be. “My little boy. Are you doing okay?”

  “I’m doing fine, Ma,” I say. “I just came to see how you were doing.”

  “I’m okay,” she says. “I think.”

  That last part is always what makes me nervous. Because that’s exactly the problem … she thinks, but she never knows for sure. It’s part of what makes her illness so difficult. She can forget things within minutes. Sometimes she doesn’t even remember where she is or how she got here. I hate those moments the most.

  “And who’s this lovely lady?” she asks, already distracted by the sight of Lesley.

  I beckon Lesley to come forward because she’s being a little shy and still hovering by the door. “Ma, this is my …” I can’t. I just can’t. Not because I don’t believe it myself, but because I don’t want her to forget.

  “My co-worker.”

  The initial smile on Lesley’s face dissipates, and she throws me a look that I try to ignore.

  “Oh, how nice,” Mom says, holding out her hand, which Lesley shakes.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Morrows.”

  “Morrows? No, no, call me Lacey.”

  Lesley throws me another unsure look.

  “It’s okay; Ma prefers her first name.” I lean in to whisper. “She forgets the last one.”

  With a look of realization, she nods.

  “What are you doing here?” Mom suddenly asks. “Weren’t you supposed to come tomorrow?”

  I have no idea what she’s talking about. I didn’t tell my brother when I was coming, and I’m sure he wouldn’t just tell her a lie, so this must be one of her own ideas again.

  I put a hand on her shoulder and say, “No, Ma, I didn’t mention a date.”

  “Oh …” She seems confused again, so I decide to change the subject.

  “Want me to make you a cup of coffee?”

  “Oh, that’s so nice of you. All these nurses never give me any,” she mutters, clutching the blanket that’s on top of her. When I glance at the table beside her, three cups with coffee residue are sitting there. Again, the lies.

  She can’t help it. She doesn’t know any better, and forgetting makes it impossible to blame her. But it’s also frustrating that I can’t ever tell her the truth. She wouldn’t believe me, even if I tried.

  “Not needed.” The sudden booming voice coming from the kitchen area has me spooked, but then I realize who it is.

  “Flynn?”

  He walks out with two cups of coffee in his hand, setting one down next to Ma. “What are you doing here?” he growls.

  “Hi to you too,” I say, turning to face Lesley, who’s half-shocked by the sight of my brother. I’m not sure whether it’s because of his entrance or because of his looks. He’s outdone me in the genetics department on the latter … but not on the charm. Obviously.

  “Lesley, Flynn … Flynn, Lesley,” I say, shrugging. “Great to introduce you like this.” I grimace at my brother. “I told you I’d come visit.”

  “Yeah, well … should’ve done it sooner,” he says, frowning at me as he sits down in one of the chairs to sip his coffee. “Ma’s been asking about you. A lot.”

  “Do we have to do this now?” I say, sighing.

  He raises a brow. “You know what I think.”

  “Yes, and please don’t remind me.” I shake my head and enter the kitchen, yelling, “Les, want a cup?”

  “Yes, please,” she answers politely.

  “Who are you?” I hear my mother ask again, and I roll my eyes.

  She’s probably talking to Lesley.

  “I’m Lesley, ma’am. I work for your son, TJ. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “Oh …” Ma sounds flabbergasted. Like she can barely keep up, despite being told who Lesley was before.

  With a full head, I make some coffee, dreading the moment I have to step back into that room. I don’t fear it because I hate it. I fear it because the hopelessness of her situation fills me with incredible sadness. Whenever I see that lost look on her face, I just feel so powerless. It’s as if all our memories—the history of us and our family—is slowly being erased.

  But there’s no point in thinking about it. It’s happening, and I can’t do anything about it.

  When the coffee’s made, I pour two cups and bring them out again, giving one to Lesley. She thanks me with a smile and I set mine down on the table before sitting down too.

  It’s grown quiet, and all we do is stare at each other … while my mother drifts off into the distance like she always does. I doubt she even knows why we’re here.

  This is the point when she returns to the place before she got the illness.

  A point in time when we were all still so naïve.

  “TJ, shouldn’t you be helping your pa with the marketing?”

  “Ma …” I sigh, letting my head drop because I’m losing it again.

  I can’t keep doing this.

  This is why. This is the reason I’ve slowly stopped visiting. I can’t face this.

  “Just tell her, dude,” my brother says.

  “If it’s so easy to you, you do it,” I snarl.

  “She asked you,” he snarls back.

  I slam down my cup. “You know damn well this has nothing to do with me. Not anymore.”

  He stands up from his chair like a bulldog, barking at me, “At least I’ve been here, taking care of her!”

  I get up and march forward. “And I took over the company when you ran off to be a playboy!”

  “Boys, please …” Ma mutters, but barely anyone can hear her, and Flynn’s booming voice overshadows hers.

  “Don’t you dare bring that into this conversation.” He points at me. “I did my best to cope with the situation while taking care of our mother, while you’re too busy to see her waste away in here. Get your head out o
f your ass.”

  “At least I’m still making something of my life and doing what Pop thought was best for us!” I shout back.

  Lesley jumps up from her chair and steps between us, focusing on me. “Hey, hey now. Calm down, boys.”

  “He’s the one who jumped me,” I sneer.

  “Because you can’t be bothered to answer your own mother and face her, goddammit,” he says.

  “Guys …” She places a hand on both our chests, trying to separate us. “Stop!”

  I’m fuming. Literally. My nostrils are flaring, but his are too.

  “Tell him that,” I hiss.

  “You’re using your girl as a middleman now?” He snorts.

  “Shut up. Both of you,” Lesley says. “You’re brothers, goddammit. Treat each other with respect.”

  She has a point there.

  “Think about your mother,” she adds, and it immediately tugs at my heart.

  I force myself to look away.

  “Sit. Down.” Her commanding voice is enough to move me.

  I’m not one to back down often, but for her and for the sake of peace between my family, I’ll do it. Even if it means conceding. Mother shouldn’t have to see this.

  My brother sighs out loud and helps Mom drink coffee while I rub my forehead and think about my sins. I know I should’ve come sooner. I know. I know full well I haven’t, and what it’s done to our bond. Not that it’s been much lately, but still. It was better than this. And it’s my fault.

  “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” I say. “It’s hard doing Pop’s work.”

  “It’s hard taking care of her too when I have no one else to help me,” Flynn retorts.

  “Why not ask each other for help?” Lesley intervenes.

  We both look her way.

  “I’m not trying to meddle in your business, but it’s apparent you need each other. Why not offer a helping hand?”

  It sounds so logical, but one thing she doesn’t know about me, about us, is the fact that we do everything completely random and wrong, and usually just hope for the best. We’re a train wreck family. At least, nowadays, we are.

  It didn’t always used to be like this.

  Not when Pops …

  “Where’s TJ?”

  “I’m here, Ma,” I say, waving at her.