“Bind dates have made me happy,” I half-lie.
One blind date two years ago made me happy. I met a man I thought I paired well with.
That all changed on our third date. He left me to pay the check in a four-star French restaurant. The text message he sent me later that night to explain his sudden absence only added salt to my already wounded ego.
He took off with a woman he met in the corridor leading to the washrooms. It was love at first sight his message said.
That was confirmed when I ran into him three months ago. He had a ring on his left hand and a picture of his newborn son on his phone.
“So Duke was giving you time to pursue more of that?” Barrett smirks.
I set the coffee cup on the corner of my desk. “Duke cared about my happiness.”
“Did you tell him about the string of one and done men that you’ve met?”
I widen my stance. “What I did or didn’t tell Duke is privileged information.”
The corner of his mouth twitches in an almost grin. “As interesting as this conversation is, we have work to do. Check your email, Isabella.”
I shrug my shoulders in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll do that now.”
I expect him to stroll back into his office, but he stays glued in place.
I fall into my office chair, flip open the cover of my laptop, and wait for it to pop to life. Once it does, I open my email program and scroll through the dozens of messages waiting for me.
I can skim through them, and reply to all within ten minutes, but I take my time, typing out a response to one of Garent’s marketing reps about a dinner party she’s hosting at her home two weeks from now.
“I’m standing right here.” Barrett taps the corner of my desk with his hand. “If you have a reply to my email, say what you need to say.”
I glance up at him, pasting a fake smile on my lips. “I’ll get to your email. I’m responding to them in the order in which they were received. That’s the way Duke preferred I handle work emails.”
“I prefer you to handle the work I assign you, so I’ll paraphrase the email for you,” he says in a pissy tone. “I need you to prepare termination documents for the list of employees I’ve included in the email.”
Clicking open the email, I furrow my brow as I read through a list of at least twenty names of Garent Industries employees.
Most of them have held their positions for years. Some I met on my very first day as an intern.
“I need that done now, Isabella.” He taps his hand on my desk again. “The first soon-to-be-former employee is due here in less than an hour.”
Termination documents? Soon-to-be-former employee?
I look up to find his blue eyes locked on my face. “Are you firing all these people?”
“All of those people and more,” he says without missing a beat. “This is the first round of cuts.”
I know every person on the list. I’ve been to the wedding of one and the housewarming party of another.
“You can’t do this,” I point out. “These people have families. They have financial responsibilities.”
His left brow rises. “I have a responsibility to this company. It’s time to clean house. Prepare those termination documents now.”
I raise my middle finger to his back when he turns to walk into his office.
“Tyrant,” I whisper under my breath, dropping my hand.
He glances back over his shoulder. “What was that?”
The word edges over my tongue, aching for me to release it to his face, but I need this damn job.
“Nothing, Mr. Adper.”
“Barrett,” he corrects me with a grin. “Get to work.”
Chapter 12
Barrett
I stand in my office and watch my assistant give one hell of a hug to a man who just lost his job because of me.
Fred Molfor, the former head of research for one of Garent’s subsidiaries, is taking full advantage of Isabella’s compassion.
Every person who has left my office without a job today has landed in my assistant’s arms. Most take the hug offered for what it is and break free after a respectable ten to fifteen seconds of full-body contact.
Fred’s hug is heading into minute two, and he’s not letting go.
I clear my throat to break them up, but they ignore me. I step just outside my office doorway so I’m within five feet of the hug-fest.
This time I resort to a muffled cough, but the embrace continues with Fred’s hand inching its way down Isabella’s back. It’s on a direct path to her ass.
“Isabella,” I snap her name off my tongue.
That sends her a step back, breaking Fred’s death grip on her.
“What?” Fred looks at me. “What now?”
All respect and pretense disappear when you steal a person’s career out from under them. Fred was a gentleman when he shook my hand twenty minutes ago. He had no idea that I called him into my office to kick him out of the company.
“I was talking to my assistant,” I point out. “You need to go, Fred.”
“Bella and I were in the middle of a private conversation.” He shoves a hand into the front pocket of his cheap suit pants.
My gaze drops to follow the movement. I catch an unfortunate glimpse of the obvious bulge under the dark brown fabric.
He’s sporting a hard-on even though he just lost his job. Potential hardship isn’t raining on his dick’s parade.
His attention shifts back to Isabella. “I could really use a friend right now. Can you meet me for a drink tonight? Around eight, maybe?”
Isabella’s gaze volleys between Fred’s face and mine. “I have plans.”
Fred shakes his head. That shifts the gray hair that’s covering a bald spot. He flips it back in place with his left hand.
I’ve had enough of this ridiculous exchange. Fred is clearly none and done in Isabella’s eyes. He’s a few decades older than her and he’s unemployed. I interrupt whatever the hell this is because I have work to do and I need my assistant’s undivided attention. “Isabella, get Curtis Mayview on the phone.”
“What about right after work?” Fred ignores the hell out of me and hones in on Isabella with a hand on her wrist. “You must have some time to fit me in.”
She tugs her arm free. “I’m having drinks. I have a date tonight…with… with two men.”
That mess of words tumbles out of her in a breathy stutter.
“With two men?” Fred repeats that back slowly. “You’re into threesomes? I have a friend who I know would be willing.”
What the fuck is going on?
Enough is enough, so I place a hand on Fred’s shoulder. “Collect your things from your office and leave the building.”
He glares at me. “I’m not ready to go yet. I haven’t finished my conversation with Bella.”
The man is delusional if he thinks he stands a chance with my assistant.
“I need to get to work.” Isabella steps toward her desk. “Good luck with everything, Fred.”
That brush-off comes with the same megawatt smile she gave me at Atlas 22 when she thought I was Dale.
“I’ll call you.” Fred cups his cell phone in his hand. “Thanks for everything, Bella.”
“No problem,” she mumbles back.
He turns to me, stopping mid-step to shove a finger into the center of my chest. “You’re an asshole.”
I’ve heard it before. I’ll likely hear it again before the day is over.
I step back to cease contact between my body and his. “Go now, Fred.”
“Duke didn’t fire people for no good reason,” he seethes. “He would never kick people out on the street like this.”
He’s right. Duke overlooked the bottom line to employ people who did virtually nothing all day. His last name gave him carte blanche to do whatever the fuck he wanted with his dad’s company.
In the process he was wasting millions of dollars a year. It’s my job to see that Garent Industr
ies survives the whims of Ivan’s prodigal son.
“Duke’s not here.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Your position doesn’t exist anymore, Fred. If you saved wisely, you could retire on that and the severance I generously gave you.”
“Generous?” He laughs in my face. “Duke was generous. You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
He’s likely right.
I glance at Isabella. Her fingers are nervously picking at the nail polish on her right thumb. Her gaze is focused on that, but I know she’s keenly listening to the exchange between Fred and me.
“It’s been a pleasure.” I toss Fred a grin because if nothing else, I’m sure as hell calm in the face of an insult. “See your way out of the building within the next fifteen minutes, or security will assist you.”
“Fucking jerk,” he shouts. “You can go straight to hell.”
I take a step to the side to allow him a clear path to the elevator.
“He was mad,” Isabella points out the obvious. “He needs that job.”
“He needs a stiff drink.” I button my suit jacket. “Your evening plans sound interesting.”
Pink blooms high on her cheeks. Jesus, she’s beautiful.
Whatever is on her agenda tonight, I’m certain it won’t end with her in bed with two men. Maybe that’s the bite of envy I feel making that assumption.
“It’s just drinks with Dale and…” Her voice trails when her desk phone rings.
“Good afternoon,” she chirps into the receiver. “Mr. Adler’s office. How can I help you?”
I watch her lips move as she launches into a conversation about the projected purchase of a company Duke had his eye on.
I’ll crush that deal later. I’m stuck back where she confessed that she’s meeting Dale and someone else for drinks.
I want to know who the ‘and’ is in that equation.
A name will mean nothing to me, but I crave it for some goddamn reason.
My cell phone starts on a ring in my jacket pocket. I should ignore it and wait until Isabella is done so we can continue our conversation at the point it left off.
She wiggles a finger at me, alerting me to my incoming call as if I’m oblivious to the jarring sound.
I curse under my breath, drag the phone out of my pocket, and answer it in a steady tone. “Ivan, how are you?”
I would have ignored anyone else, but my boss is an instant answer. I turn and walk away, pushing my office door closed with my shoulder as I try and shake off the unwanted mental image of Isabella’s nude body pressed between Dale and another man.
Chapter 13
Bella
I slipped out of the office at five o’clock on the dot. Usually, I’m at my desk until well past six clearing away the day’s emails and following up with phone calls. Today, I tied everything up early.
Barrett was on a call with his office door closed, so I left without a word.
I don’t owe him a goodbye or a have a swell night.
I had to reluctantly spend my day consoling people who don’t have a job waiting for them tomorrow morning.
I thumb out a quick text to Max since I haven’t heard from him all day.
Bella: We’re meeting Dale for a drink before the movie. Before you respond to this text, remember that you owe me one.
I round the corner while I wait for him to reply.
The smell of Greek food wafting from one of the street carts is tempting, but I keep walking. I have leftovers waiting for me at home. I’ll heat up my dinner and eat it while I’m getting ready.
I look down when my phone buzzes in my hand.
Max: I’ll be your third wheel as long as I get to pick the movie.
I laugh out loud, drawing the glances of two women walking near me. I pop a brow at them and toss them a wave.
They both wave back with wide smiles on their faces.
This is one of the reasons why I love Manhattan as much as I do. A stranger’s smile can brighten your day.
I need that. Today was hell. I’ve never been so emotional at work before. That’s likely because Duke never fired anyone while I worked for him.
My pace slows as I near a pretzel cart. I could snack on one on my way home. It wouldn’t ruin my dinner. It would be more of an appetizer before the main course of warmed up chicken and dumplings.
I fish in my purse for my wallet, but my phone buzzes, stealing my attention.
I expect to see Max’s name on the screen, but it’s my boss.
Barrett: Where are you?
I glance over at the stack of baked pretzels. I can almost taste the first bite. It wouldn’t hurt to buy one for me and one to give Max later.
My fingers graze over my leather wallet just as my phone sounds when another message arrives.
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath.
Barrett: I needed to speak with you before you left the office. Call me ASAP.
I should ignore him since I’m off the clock, but I did walk out of the office without a word earlier and I am being paid an exorbitant amount of money to be his assistant.
I compromise. Instead of calling him, I send him a text message. I’m not that excited about meeting up with Dale for a drink, but I am looking forward to hanging out with Max. I’ll handle my boss now, so that I can spend my evening in peace.
Bella: I’m officially done work for the day. Can this wait until tomorrow?
Barrett: No.
I expect another message, but there’s nothing. No snippy reply. No three bouncing dots signaling he’s writing something to send back to me.
Bella: What is it?
I turn my back on the pretzels and set off down the sidewalk again. I’ll splurge on buttered popcorn at the movie tonight so the pretzel will have to wait for another time.
I glance down at my phone when another text buzzes its arrival.
Barrett: Meet me at Axel NY at 8.
For a split second, I wonder if he’s sent me a message meant for the redhead he was having dinner with the other night.
His next text clears away all potential confusion.
Barrett: Ivan wants to see us both at 8. You do know where Axel NY is, don’t you?
Jerk.
I know exactly where Axel NY is. I’ve been to the restaurant twice on blind dates in the past year and at a handful of times with Duke and his dad.
I can’t exactly say no to Mr. Garent, so I type back a simple response knowing that I have to skip out on my movie plans with my best friend.
Bella: I’ll be there.
***
“Wait a minute, Bella.” Max’s hand darts in the air. “You’re telling me that the guy you thought was Dale is actually your new boss?”
Slipping on my shoes, I nod in silence.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”
I point at the belt around my waist. “My belt is red, and my shoes are black. Is that a fashion faux pas?”
Max gives me a full once-over. “Your dress is tight enough that it doesn’t matter.”
I turn to the side to look at myself in the large mirror propped against my bedroom wall. “I should change. Should I change?”
“You’re not changing. Dale is going to fucking love that dress.” Max fans his face with his hand. “Wear the red lipstick you bought last week.”
I walk to my dresser to find the tube of lipstick. “You forgive me for not going to the movie with you, right?”
“That’s already forgotten.” He crosses his legs. “I haven’t forgiven you for keeping your boss’s identity a secret.”
I glance over my shoulder to where he’s sitting in the big blue armchair in the corner of my bedroom.
Gina decorated before I moved in. Everything in this room is a product gifted to her by one of her sponsors. The chair and bed are courtesy of a new home furnishings company. They get high marks for aesthetics. They fail miserably in the comfort department.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until tonight,” I sa
y honestly. “I was embarrassed.”
It’s not a lie. I haven’t told anyone that I dropped myself into the middle of my boss’s date because I thought he was at Atlas 22 to meet me.
I would have told Max sooner, but I was stalling because he’s going to remind me about it every chance he gets.
“He must have thought that you lost it.” He throws his head back in laughter. “Some random sits down at his table and starts hitting on him.”
I roll my eyes. “Do I look presentable? Does my outfit scream, ‘I’m here for business.’”
Max stands, tucking the hem of the green T-shirt he’s wearing into the waistband at the front of his dark jeans. “It’s the perfect little black dress, Bella. Mr. Garent is going to be impressed.”
That’s all I really care about.
It doesn’t matter if Dale likes what he sees. Barrett’s opinion of how I look is a non-factor to me.
Or it should be.
I steal another glance in the mirror.
“You look like a million bucks,” Max says with a wink. “Duke’s replacement won’t be able to keep his eyes to himself.”
“Barrett,” I say quietly.
“Barrett?” he repeats back. “That’s his name?”
Scooping up my red clutch from the corner of my bed, I nod. “Barrett Adler.”
“I’ll have to stop by the office to meet, Mr. Adler.” He grins. “If you mistook him for Dale based on my description, he must be screaming hot.”
Hot doesn’t even begin to describe Barrett.
“You’ve got that look on your face.” Max circles his finger in front of me.
Laughing, I pinch my brows together. “What look?”
“The look you always have when there are butterflies in your stomach.”
I glance down at the front of my dress. “There are no butterflies in there.”
“Liar.” he chuckles. “What I really want to know is are you feeling that way because of Dale or your new boss?”
I pat my stomach. “No butterflies. No feelings. End of discussion.”
He lets out a puff of air from between his lips. “You’re not fooling me, Calvetti. One of those men has you tied up in knots. Or maybe you want one of them to tie you up in knots.”
Ruthless Page 5
