The Boss (A Billionaire Romance)

by Adams, Naomi

  She peered up at him, "Fredrick? Oh, I . . . "

  "Sorry, yes. It's me. According to your paramedic, you wanted me to come visit with you."

  Tall and strong, he filled the doorway.

  He still stunk of smoke and his clothes were as disheveled as they had been that day, but at least now she understood why. "I did but . . ."

  "Hope it's okay?"

  She tried to sit up and when the needle in her arm hurt, she yelped. "Shit."

  "No need to sit up on my behalf." Fredrick came to her aid. He passed her the box of tissues on the side table and sat on the edge of her bed. "Dry your tears, you're alive."

  "Sorry, you're right, of course," she said, blowing her nose before pulling the sheets up over her chest, wishing she'd had the chance to freshen up before he arrived. "So, either you always go around filthy, or you came to our date straight from a call out?"

  "Ah," Fredrick smiled, "You got me. I did try to explain but . . . "

  "Yeah, I remember. I can be horribly stubborn I guess. Either way, what are the chances? One minute you're a seemingly bad date, the next you're saving my life?"

  He scoffed, "The chances were significantly more for me, as a fire-fighter."

  "Oh yeah," she laughed but it hurt. "Still, I am sorry for making such a harsh, and as it turns out – ignorant - judgment about you. If I'd only listened to you, instead of . . . "

  She remembered the main reason for her snap decision being her affection for Anon—like she was in some way being unfaithful, like Fredrick had to compete with him.

  When the truth of it was, she would likely never meet Anon and shouldn't live her life fantasizing about him.

  Anon was not her lover or her partner.

  He was someone who cared about what she did, who donated huge amounts of money to her charity.

  Nothing more.

  Fredrick on the other hand was a real, fresh and blood man.

  A hero . . . and a handsome one at that.

  "I don't do relationships well and I don't generally date. Guess I'm out of practice."

  His focus moved to where her fingers touched his and he shrugged, "You know what? I may be persuaded to accept your apology, but only under one condition." He threaded his fingers through hers and smiled up at her, an inquisitive glint in his eyes.

  "Oh?" Clara's tummy tickled, and she sniffed back her residual tears, "What condition might that be?"

  "You offer me another chance to impress you. I failed completely last time and well," he leaned in a little and held her gaze. Boy, he was sexy. "I figure you owe me after I saved your life."

  Clara wanted to run around the room and giggle for some reason, but kept it all in. "When you put it like that," her stomach flipped and all concerns of where she would live, of what she had lost, of Anon flew away--at least for a while. Fredrick gazed at her through deep bronze, smiling eyes, awaiting her response. "How can I refuse?"

  Fredrick searched her face, still holding her hand. "How indeed."

  Chapter 11

  The doctors kept Clara in hospital for observation for two nights, but nothing was broken and the smoke damage would repair over time.

  The following night after that, Fredrick said he would pick her up from her hotel apartment at eight for their second date.

  They remained in touch by phone post-admission, passing jokes and silly updates.

  The police came to visit, asking her about the death threat.

  It was burned along with the house, so she had no evidence, but they said they would look into it.

  Clara told herself it was nothing more than old wiring, but fear lingered in the background.

  A deep fear that she tried not to think about…

  The day of the date, Lisa and Clara returned from visiting a few houses Clara was interested in renting, and from buying her a whole new wardrobe.

  "Good job you had savings, Clara. Most people would be destitute after losing their home and everything in it."

  "I was never one to fixate on possessions. Apart from sentimental items of course; I miss those, and books, and CD's. Oh, and if I'm honest, a few pairs of killer heels."

  "You must have most of your books and music on your Cloud? And pictures. Tell me you made digital copies?"

  "Yeah, course I did. But you can't beat a hard copy. Or killer heels."

  Clara sniggered, refusing to whine about losing possessions any longer; Fredrick was right, she was alive.

  Goodbye classic wardrobe essentials she'd spent too much on because they were quality items made to last.

  Goodbye home.

  Hello new life, new home, new possibilities.

  "I must say, you're taking all this much better than I think I would."

  "Fact is Lisa, post-tragedy, if you don't learn how precious life is and how trivial possessions are, you're a fool. Possessions I can learn to live without, my skin or a pulse, not so much." The idea she might have died stuck out at the forefront of her mind, but she tried to focus on practicalities. "Course, I don't have an endless resource of savings so I'm going to need the insurance to pay up big-time. I'm a little scared I did something to cause the damn fire and can't remember it, but . . ."

  "You're too diligent to cause a fire so you can get that out of your mind right away."

  Clara glanced at her friend, suddenly fighting the lump in her throat. She croaked, "Thanks Lisa."

  She couldn't tell her about the death threat: one, because it most likely had nothing to do with the fire, and two, because Lisa would move her into hiding and never let her out.

  "Ahem, let's hope you're right." Her phone beeped, she grabbed it from her purse and found Anon had sent her a text. "Ah, wait a minute. Let me reply to this."

  His message read:

  ‘Are you recovered? I put any surviving belongings in storage. I'll send the details of where you can find them. Most of the downstairs was ruined, but the upstairs was mostly smoke damage. I've sent anything that could be cleaned to a specialist I know. You haven't lost everything. Is there anything else I can help you with?’

  She replied:

  ‘Wow, thanks. You did all that for me?’

  Clara was so relieved, not everything was lost after all.

  And Anon was wonderful for taking the initiative.

  ‘Wasn't sure my stuff could be released from the scene this early. You've gone above and beyond, as always. If you could, please keep your eyes open for a fabulous place to live on a meager wage? Till then, I'm staying at the Dumont on Lexington in a mini apartment. It comes complete with two queen size beds, executive desk, and a full kitchen so I can't complain. LOL.’

  ‘I can cover the cost if you like? Say the word.’

  ‘Absolutely not. But thank you.’

  ‘Okay, but you must not refuse this: I will organize a PA for you, to pick up the slack while you recover and sort out your living arrangements. I'll hire her from the same superb agency I use. She'll make enquiries about a new home, but I'll see what can be done with your house too. If you need anything at all, just ask.’

  ‘I'm speechless. If you're sure? I could do with a little help sorting out a function coming up, too. You're the best, Anon.’

  Clara wished she knew who this person was and longed to press him for a meeting, to thank him, but she couldn't. It was his right to remain anonymous and she couldn't risk losing his donations, or his support in general.

  “Anything important?" asked Lisa.

  "Anon, checking in. He's taken care of my belongings and offered to pay for a temporary PA to fill in while I'm recovering. How cool is that?"

  "You say ‘he’. Remember they could just as easily be a ‘she’. But yeah, it is cool of him to offer his assistance . . . from afar. You can take it easy for a change, so you had better do that."

  "I don't know; I can’t stop fretting. The function's looming and I'm way behind on arrangements. Course, the PA can sort that out for me now, while I take care of the daily running and everything else." Cl
ara swooned, "Anon thinks of everything."

  "He can't keep you warm at night, can he?"

  "Oh, I dunno." She thought about the sexy bath she enjoyed before the fire. "That reminds me, I'm going to need to purchase another vibrator."

  Lisa threw a cushion at her and laughed, "I freaking love you, lady."

  "Ha, fancy a coffee?" Clara began to prepare a pot of coffee for them both while Lisa unpacked and hung Clara's new wardrobe.

  "Love one. No need to worry about how the fire started, anyway," Lisa said. "You can't change what happened by worrying. Let's worry about what you should wear for this second date instead." She held up a red knee length silk dress, "I vote for this. It's beautiful and will really suit your coloring."

  Clara sighed, remembering her planned date and enjoyed the itch of excitement in her tummy. "Um, not sure."

  What should a woman wear on a date with the man who saved her life?

  "He won't show up in tights and a cape, so quit with the hero-worship. You might fall in love with the hero element and forget he's just a man. Bad things happen when women idolize men."

  "Maybe, but he did save my life." Clara smiled to herself, remembering Fredrick carrying her into the night air, the heat of the flames behind her. "I can't forget something like that."

  "The work you do for your charity saves lives too you know. Think of all the reformed gamblers out there, living lives with support, enjoying their families, fathers and mothers who can be a part of their children’s lives… and all because of you. Just because you don't run into burning buildings, doesn't make you any less of a hero. Don't worship men, Clara. Love them, fuck them, befriend them, but never worship."

  Clara loved Lisa; she had a cute way of building her up and massaging her ego.

  Still, to her, Fredrick and his crew were her heroes.

  "Yeah, yeah. Hey, I'm still dating this guy, so let’s get to my shopping bags and let's see what works."

  Lisa shook her head and smiled opening yet another bag. "Personally, I doubt it will make much difference what you wear."

  "Why?"

  "He's seen you without makeup, in a hospital gown, stinking of smoke and still called and texted and visited you. Your hook is well and truly in. Here, I forgot about this. I bought this foundation to cover your bruise."

  "Oh, thanks." Clara grinned to herself. His heroism and subsequent compassion, especially after she had badly misjudged him, was both commendable and sexy as hell. Their second date might start out cleaner than the first, but might just end up even dirtier. "Forget the coffee, let's open that bottle of wine."

  "Now you're talking." Lisa dumped the shopping bag and moved swiftly to the wine rack. "Cork screw?"

  Chapter 12

  Sitting in a sushi restaurant with her date, who arrived early by the way, Clara wanted to start as she meant to go on.

  Honesty was always the best policy.

  "You know the families where everyone's a little crazy but they're your family so you love them anyway?"

  "Yeah," said Fredrick, looking all too edible in a crisp white shirt. "Yours like that?"

  "No, not really." Clara scoffed, "Mine is more like marble--cold but hardwearing and incredibly stylish. Well, apart from my dad, who I loved in spite of him being a gambling addict."

  "Ouch, bet he presented a few problems for your family. Addiction doesn't bring the best out in people."

  "Yeah. Dad told an unending succession of lies and always let me down, but underneath it all, he had a soul. Something lacking in the rest of my family."

  "I hear you, soul is more than my dad ever had."

  Claire thought of something, "When I was a kid, Dad used to read me Shakespeare's stories and I loved Romeo and Juliet."

  "You romantic, you," said Fredrick, head tilting slightly.

  "It's easy to be when you're a kid. The whole world seems endless, like possibilities sit on every snowflake or something." Snorting, she added, "Get let down a few times and well . . . "

  "Ah, a correction if I may: Former romantic, now skeptic?"

  The blush burned her cheeks and she wanted to change the subject.

  This was like talking to Lisa.

  She always told her to be less cynical about love, life and relationships.

  If only Clara could trust a man the way she trusted Lisa.

  Or Anon.

  "My best friend would say skeptic sounds about right." She searched his eyes and squirmed a little beneath the intensity of his gaze. "Anyway, where was I?"

  He learned closer, "You were saying how you loved Romeo and Juliet before life gave you lemons."

  "Yes, correct. Those damned lemons," she sniggered. "Thanks for the recap."

  He's listening to me. Good start.

  "Once, when he couldn't afford a birthday gift for me and never came to my party--most likely because he was spending his pay check in a casino--he came by a few days later with a card he'd made himself out of a piece of A4 paper. He wrote inside: 'Great love, you believe, carries the seeds of great sorrow.' I asked why he put such a sad thing in my birthday card.”

  “And what was his reply?”

  “He told me, 'Valuable advice was the only gift he could give me at the time, but it would serve me far longer than another Barbie doll.' I never understood what the quote meant at the time. Now, I get it."

  Fredrick cleared his throat. "Pretty deep for a kid. Did he mean to prepare you saying love leads to sorrow? Was that his warning, do you think?"

  "I think he was warning me that loving him, and possibly others like him, would ultimately lead to sorrow. In his case, he was certainly right. Layers of hurt followed forgiveness, followed hurt."

  "Family huh, who needs one?" Fredrick responded.

  "Me." She'd somehow steered their conversation to a dark place and as this was their first real date and second attempt at getting it right, she needed to take it back into the light. "Don't get me wrong, he wasn't all bad. Far from it. I learned more from him than anyone."

  "Oh?"

  "Oh yeah. From loving him, I learned not everything is black and white. The murky grey area is where most of us imperfect souls reside, and there's nothing wrong with grey. Owning your imperfections is the key, and to try to be the best person you can be. Not as easy as it sounds, unfortunately."

  Fredrick took her hand in his, "You're a strong woman, Clara. I'm sure you manage. I've admired that about you from the beginning."

  Admired me, even though I acted like a judgmental cow?

  He's a better person than me.

  "Thanks, although I have my moments, and my friend would argue I'm a coward in some things. But I grew up to learn life can be testing. Saying that, on the whole, it's pretty good to me these days."

  "These days? Meaning it hasn't always been, or because nearly dying in a fire made you smell the roses? I hear that a lot."

  "Well," dammit, she didn't want to go dark again. Was he a fire fighter or psychiatrist? "I just mean growing up was often hard and adulthood is much easier in comparison. I'm in control now and have no one to worry about but myself. I'm also in control of who I let into my world. Who I'm exposed to, that sort of thing."

  He frowned before saying, "Thanks for exposing yourself to me then. I'm privileged."

  Clara winced, would he see through her now?

  She wasn't strong when it came to relationships, but she hated to appear weak.

  Especially when he admired strength.

  "No problem. Thanks for giving me another chance to prove I'm not a complete bitch . . . I hope."

  He winked, "Second chances are a good thing all round, I'd say." Clara loved his understanding smile and how he stroked the back of her hand. "So," he leaned back in his seat and grabbed his drink for a gulp of Sake. "What about your mother, and are there any siblings?"

  "Ah," Clara loathed talking about a family who turned their back on her father. But she started the conversation. "Are you sure you want to hear all this?"

  "I'll t
ell you mine if you tell me yours," said Fredrick.

  "Okay." Deep breath, it will be worth it if he shares too. "I'll hold you to that. Okay, my mother was the cold element to my family, and most of her side of the family is so shut off from emotion you'd need an icepick to get through. They refused to see that my father was actually ill and not just some evil selfish man. So anyway, I gave up trying with them after my father died, and as soon as I could leave home, I did so, at seventeen. Nope, no siblings. Not exposing more children to her and her family was perhaps the kindest thing my mother every did."

  "Oops," Fredrick leaned his jaw in his hand, elbow on the table. Her mother would not approve, but to Clara, it showed his keen interest and made her feel special. "So you had his lies on the one hand and her icy nature on the other. Must have been lonely growing up?"

  "Yeah, but Lisa and I grew up together. She's always been a kind of sister to me. Her family are the complete opposite of mine. They're so warm and loving, going to one of their family gatherings is like stepping outside into a sunny day, any day of the year."

  "Friendship is so important, but I think when your family is like ours, it's crucial."

  "Exactly, and now it has to be your turn."

  Fredrick sat up straight and looked at his shoes, "Let's just say my father was a capitalist through and through and his family were there to offer something to his persona, to his image, but for little else. My father and I couldn't be more different."

  "Oops," Clara said, sipping at her Sake, enjoying the warm burn in her chest as it made its way down. "Sorry." She wanted to offer Fredrick her warmth, "What about your mother? Couldn't she offer an alternative experience?"

  "She may have done at some point, but she died when I was young. I can't remember her now."

  She died?

  "How awful, Fredrick. How did she die, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "In a house fire, hence the job."

  He smiled weakly, and she could tell it was more for her than anything.

  Clara set her glass on the table and moved her chair closer to his.