Romance: The Boss

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Romance: The Boss Page 14

by West, Lara


  Okay, now he’s way out of line.

  His delusions have clearly gotten the better of him.

  There’s good jealousy, and then there’s irrational and impulsive jealousy. There had been flirting on Ridge’s part, but certainly not on mine.

  “Clint, that isn’t fair!” I reprimand him, the fury all too noticeable in my tone. “I was just being polite—”

  “THAT’S BULLSHIT, LAUREN. RIDGE IS—” he begins to shout but then clamps off the words, like he’s realized that he’s letting his anger run away with him again. “I saw the way he was looking at you over the weekend,” he says more calmly. “He wants you.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” I flare at him, but he’s unerringly right.

  Ridge had been acting more than friendly toward me.

  But I think that’s just part of his personality. He’s a seductive, charming, and bigheaded golden boy who, much like Clint, is very accustomed to getting what and who he wants.

  I’m sure Ridge has a multitude of women in a little black book somewhere, all of them equally vying for his attention.

  But also like Clint, something tells me Ridge doesn’t like to get too attached to women either.

  A fire can only burn you if you dare to reach out and touch it.

  “Oh I’m not being absurd. You forget I’ve been down this road before!” Clint rises again and makes his way to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a whiskey on the rocks. “Do you want to know what Ridge said to me when I confronted him about touching you like that on top of that damn wall?”

  “You spoke to him about me? Why?”

  “Didn’t you just hear me?” He takes a large swig of the whiskey. “He wants you, Lauren! He told me that you were as fragile as spun glass and that if I didn’t wrap you up, he would.”

  “I…don’t know what to say about that. I don’t know Ridge,” I tell him honestly. “But you know I would never do anything with him, right?”

  “I’ve heard that before too.”

  “Yeah well, I’m not Catherine,” I snap.

  I’ve had enough of this.

  I will not be compared to some girl whom he loved years ago and who cheated on him with his older brother.

  Screw that.

  “I know you’re not,” Clint says, more softly. “I just don’t know if I can invest in anyone again.”

  “Invest? Women aren’t business deals or a piece of real estate, Clint! Do you honestly think I would be unfaithful to you? I mean, if we ever decided to make whatever this is work?”

  He sighs and downs the rest of the whiskey. “It’s not you, Lauren, it’s me.”

  Oh please, not that damn line.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  “You’re crazy if you think I’d ever cheat on you,” I blast at him.

  “I know. I just can’t—”

  “Then let me make this easy for you,” I cut in, standing up to face him. “I was going to wait a little longer to tell you this, but what the hell? Now is as better time as any. I accept your offer to leave Townsend Investments at the end of January. Consider this my official notice.”

  “Now Lauren, you just wait a minute—”

  “No. I’m done with this conversation and I’m done with you.”

  I know I don’t actually mean what I’m saying, but I’m just so angry with him.

  How could he think I would cheat on him if we got together? I would never do that.

  I’m in love with him!

  And he’s a handsome billionaire.

  Even if I were the shallowest person in the world, I would still be more than happy with a man like him.

  This Catherine woman has certainly done a number on the Townsend brothers. They truly are scarred.

  “I won’t be in tomorrow,” I go on. “In fact, I won’t be in Monday either. I’m going to take an extra two weeks of Christmas leave. I’ll see you sometime in the new year.”

  “Lauren!”

  I walk out of the office, flustered and shaking.

  I can’t believe I just had the balls to say all that.

  I don’t know if it was the right thing to do, but for once, it feels good to be the one in control, to spoon up to Clint Townsend a taste of his own medicine.

  Outside, the snow has become thicker.

  The New York City I arrived in six months ago is a far cry from this version.

  Although it’d been a cold day when I came in the summer, it had been warm after that, making my first two months quite enjoyable even with the hospitality work.

  But now the rain and sleet have smothered the sun with a cold winter chill that is taking over the city with a sharp vengeance.

  When I hail down the cab, I can hardly believe my luck when I see it’s the same guy who drove me to the Red Peacock Bar that night.

  Out of all the cabs in New York, I had to end up with his again.

  And just when I don’t have the patience for it.

  “Hey, what do you know? It’s little miss gold digger!” he harshly lobs at me out the window.

  I laugh at him and then keep on laughing. It’s like something has shifted in me and I no longer care about anything. It’s all just insanely funny.

  “What’s the matter with you? Have you gone nuts, lady, or what?”

  “No,” I splutter, the chortles coming out in torrents. “But I’m not in the mood for cheating death today. You can run along now.”

  “You are one messed up babe, you know that!” he yells before flooring it up the wet and shiny street, a gray cloud from his exhaust left for me to choke on.

  I smile as I watch him go, relief surging through me like a new life force until I finally get a hold of myself and dwindle into silence.

  I look up at the huge skyscraper that is Townsend Investments and decide that I can’t leave things hanging like this.

  The time for acting like a timid, immature teenager is over.

  I need Clint and me to both finally admit that the first time we met was outside a bar and that everything that had happened between us these last six months has been shaped by that night we spent together.

  I love him, I know that now more than ever, and if I don’t tell him today then I fear I never will.

  When I step out of the elevator, I know exactly what I’m going to say.

  I love you, Clint.

  Ever since I began working here, I’ve gotten to know who you are. I’ve seen your good side, your bad side, and your downright ruthless side too.

  But regardless of the latter, I’ve fallen for you anyway. I also remember that night we spent together in June, and I need you to tell me you remember it too.

  In my head I believe that he’ll confess, that when I walk back into that office he’ll take me in his arms, apologize for being such a green-eyed jerk, and then tell me that he can trust me and that he was just too stubborn to realize it before.

  But when I walk up to that familiar translucent door, looking through it fleetingly before I push it open, all those hopeful thoughts come hurtling down…

  Elsa?

  Chapter Nine

  I don’t know which one of us looks more shocked.

  Me?

  As I stare at the both of them, Elsa’s legs wrapped distastefully around him on the chair.

  Elsa?

  Her head slanted back at me, like she’s finally figured out what the missing link between her and Clint has been all along.

  Or Clint?

  His eyes wide and culpable, his hands linked intimately through Elsa’s.

  He’s the first one to speak. “Lauren, I know what this looks like but it’s not it.” He pushes Elsa off him so hurriedly that she almost falls backward onto the floor.

  “Clint! What the hell?” she yells at him, although it’s really more of a loud squeak. Elsa has that typical high-pitched blond model voice that usually drives women like me crazy.

  “Yeah, Clint,” I mimic. “What the hell?”

  “I can explain.”

  �
�Save it,” I say derogatively before looking back at Elsa. “You can have him.”

  “Lauren,” Clint pleas, “This isn’t—”

  “And to think I came here to tell you—”

  But I’ve interrupted him only to find the words now falling away.

  I can’t tell him I love him, not now.

  And not ever, judging from how this little scenario looks.

  “Ridge was right,” I state, teeth clenched and dripping with venom. “Falling for you really wasn’t worth the trouble.”

  I see the hurt carve into his face, the shock of bringing up Ridge slicing into him finely.

  But I don’t care.

  I mean it.

  “Lauren!” I hear him shouting, but it’s too late—I’m already sprinting to the elevator, my feet strong and unwavering.

  When I finally reach it a minute later I hit the down arrow hard, gasping in panic until the doors finally ping open and I stagger inside, pressing for the ground floor frantically as Clint’s suited figure comes running toward me.

  “Lauren! Wait!” he yells one last time before the steel doors begin to shut, my finger holding down the close button so he can’t get in.

  “Goodbye, Clint,” I say coldly just as he reaches it, a tear sliding down my cheek for him to see.

  Then he disappears and I’m safely locked away, letting the rest of the tears cascade out as the elevator fills with the sound of foolish weeping.

  Chapter Ten

  It takes all my willpower not to answer the phone, not to give Clint a chance and hear what he has to say at least.

  He’s been calling incessantly for three days now, leaving voice message after voice message, text after text.

  “Lauren, it was all Elsa, I swear. She just…jumped into my lap. I know how unbelievable that sounds but I did not reciprocate anything. Nothing happened.”

  Beeeep.

  “Lauren, please call me back. I’m telling you the truth. I would never hurt you like that.”

  Beeeep.

  “Lauren, I meant what I said in the office…about my feelings. I need to see you. Please don’t ignore me.”

  Beeeep.

  He even came by the apartment, only to have Brooke lie and say I wasn’t home, and that even if I were I wouldn’t want to see him.

  I know he might deserve better, but the image of Elsa straddling him in his office keeps cutting through my head. I can’t get rid of the sting of that moment.

  The man I’d fallen in love with had his hands on another woman, and the way he had looked at me when I caught them was standout guilty.

  How can I believe anything he says?

  Anyone who would’ve walked in on them like that would have thought the exact same thing that I did.

  And yet a part of me doesn’t want to face that truth.

  I just need some time to think.

  Or not think.

  I don’t know how I feel about any of it anymore.

  Last night, I’d gone out and kissed a complete stranger just to spite Clint.

  Well, he was half a stranger anyway.

  Adam is really a friend of Brooke’s current squeeze, Matt, whom she’d met off one of those popular dating apps.

  Both men are in their late twenties and attorneys—a profession that wouldn’t usually appeal to me—but I had felt like I was on the rebound, so I’d figured why not? A little distraction can’t hurt.

  But I was wrong.

  The four of us had gone out for drinks at the Globe and then the rest had just played out like clockwork.

  Girl meets guy for the first time. Guy buys girl a drink. Guy and girl flirt. Guy kisses girl. The girl goes along with it, but unbeknownst to the guy, she’s actually still hung up on someone else.

  I can’t even blame being drunk for letting Adam kiss me.

  I’d had only one drink; I was practically sober.

  But tonight, we’re all going out again. There’s this trendy new bar called Rapid that opened up downtown and seeing as it’s Christmas and I’m flying off to Colorado tomorrow for a few weeks, this will be my last night in New York. So Brooke wants to make it a big one…at least some things never change!

  “Are you ready?” she shouts from the living room, her platform heels drumming on the wooden floor. “Matt and Adam are waiting downstairs in the cab!”

  “Coming,” I call back, but as I grab my coat out of the wardrobe, a feeling of dread washes over me, a shudder sluicing through my skin like a sixth sense. Something is cautioning me about tonight, imploring me to not let myself behave the same way as I did with Adam.

  When images of Clint keep alternating in my mind, I decide that it isn’t my sixth sense at all, but my conscience.

  Well, I’m not going to let that waste any more of my time.

  I’m going to go out.

  I’m going to have fun.

  I’m going to flirt as much or as little as I want to with Adam.

  And I’ll be damned if I’ll let even the thought of Clint Townsend stop me.

  Chapter Eleven

  I’m staring at the décor inside Rapid: antlers fashioned into artsy lights, fake moose and bear heads mounted on the walls, and a glowing bar that resembles the Red Peacock’s almost too meticulously.

  I can’t stand hunting for sport, so I half hate and half love the bar.

  It looks amazing, but what it represents is something else entirely.

  It’s the perfect analogy for describing Clint, actually.

  He’d probably love this place.

  Brooke has the four of us sipping on Moët. Seeing as I won’t be here to toast to New Years’, she’s doing it early.

  I think I’m more of an excuse than an actual occasion.

  But hey, the misery has been swelling up again lately, so what’s the harm?

  It’s better than staying home in that achingly lonely apartment. Hell, a few drinks are probably just the numbing remedy I need.

  For the last hour, Adam has been ogling and dallying with me like it’s our last night on the planet. He’s quite cute, with warm, blue eyes and light brown hair, the exact same features as Clint’s and yet nowhere near as alluring. In fact, nobody is as alluring anymore.

  He’s ruined that for me, too.

  “I think we should switch to cocktails,” Brooke pipes next to me, one arm hanging around Matt’s neck. “What do you think, Lauren?”

  What do I think? I think champagne and cocktails are a lethal combination that all of us are going to end up regretting in the morning.

  But I’m also not in the mood to be a party pooper either. If Brooke wants us all to get ungracefully hammered, then so be it!

  But just after I get myself a pint of water first.

  “I think I’m going to head to the restroom and then go get us all some water,” I say, sticking out my tongue at her lightheartedly.

  “Lame!”

  “Or wise,” Adam remarks while brandishing a wink. “Hurry back, Lauren.”

  Poor Adam—he has no idea that I’m using him to feel better about what happened with Clint.

  I know - it’s mean.

  But I also know that in the past, the only way I’ve ever gotten over a guy is by hooking up with someone else.

  I give Adam a docile smile before finding the bathroom.

  It takes a few minutes, but I finally spot the sign with the two little stick figures hanging at the other end of the bar. I gradually make my way toward it, shuffling past some people to step into an aisle that runs past a series of booths at the back of the room.

  But when I come to the fourth booth, I freeze, hardly believing what I’m seeing.

  Dana?

  “Lauren!” she calls out, getting up from the booth elatedly.

  “Dana,” I say, still motionless. “I’m, ah—”

  “Surprised to see me?”

  “Yeah. What are you doing in New York?”

  “We’re all here for Christmas.”

  “We? As in the whole family?”


  “Uh-huh, except Ridge. He and Clint aren’t great at the moment. Not sure what’s gone on there. But anyway, it’s so good to see you! Clint didn’t tell me you’d be here? He and Deacon are just getting some drinks.”

  Clint’s here, at this bar, right now? No. Half my luck! I guess I should’ve listened to that sixth sense earlier, huh?

  “It’s my first time in New York in years,” Dana goes on before I can answer. “Mom’s babysitting the kids back at Clint’s apartment.”

  “Oh really? That’s nice of your mom. So um, are you enjoying the city?” I ask hesitantly, knowing that Clint could appear at any moment. I really need to cut this short.

  “Yeah. It’s very different from Rapid City, but I like it.”

  “Great,” I say quickly, looking toward the restrooms. “Well I was just on my way to the bathroom so I should keep going.”

  “Oh,” she replies, looking disappointed. “Of course. I’ll tell Clint you’re here.”

  I almost let the comment go and feign how things are between Clint and me, but I don’t want Dana to tell him I’m here.

  Furthermore, I don’t want him to go searching for me only to find out that I’m here with Adam.

  “Actually, Dana, I’d rather you didn’t tell Clint you saw me. He, uh, doesn’t know that I was going to be here tonight. And I would like it to stay that way.”

  “Oh?” she queries, wearing a troubled frown. “I hope everything is all right between you two?”

  “It’s, um, complicated. I just kind of want to have a no-work night out, that’s all. It’s nothing personal. It was so good to see you, though.”

  I lean in and hug her closely, almost saddened by the fact that I can’t sit down and chat with her more. I really like Dana. I think we would have been good friends under other circumstances.

  “You too,” she says despondently before I’m hurrying away, praying that Clint hasn’t seen me from wherever he’s standing at the bar.

  I have no idea what I would have said if he’d showed up.

  My conscience was definitely onto something back at the apartment. I shouldn’t have come out tonight.

 

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