Conflict of Interest (Employee Relations Book 1) (26 page)

I turn to face Lucas, who’s shocked and on his way to seething. “Oh, and let’s not forget the spin we’re putting on the New Leader Assimilation. His idea will literally blow you away.”

Jack perks up, clinging to my words. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I’ll have Helen schedule time to review your plans first thing Monday morning.”

I direct my attention to Jack and excuse myself. “I hate to cut this short, but I have an appointment I can’t be late for.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Lucas offers flatly.

“Actually, if you have time, Lucas, I’d like to bring you up to speed on my trip.”

“Okay. Well…have a good weekend you two,” I practically sing as I walk to the elevator.

I step out of the building and feel like I can breathe for the first time in days. The crisp air is invigorating, exactly what I need. If I hadn’t had the need to expel energy I’d have taken the T but walking six city blocks in high-heels can’t even get me down. Blisters notwithstanding, I feel great.

I replay my outburst. Did I really just figuratively throw Lucas under the bus? Thank God we were in the safety of the office when I snapped or I might have actually pushed him into oncoming traffic. Perhaps it wasn’t my most professional moment, but personally? I’m beyond satisfied. And to top it off I have a date tonight, my first in months.

I pull my phone out two blocks from my apartment and immediately send it to voicemail when I see its Lucas. Screw him. He can stew all weekend. At some point I need to evaluate exactly why he gets under my skin so bad and attempt to mend whatever shred of a partnership we have. Just not tonight.

By the time I make it to my building he’s called three more times and I pray he doesn’t plan to do this all night.

It rings again.

I can either turn my phone off or get this over with.

“So you
do
have my number.”

“Cut the shit, Gabriella,” he growls.

“Gabby.”

“What the fuck are you playing at? Huh? Because of your little performance I’m on the hook for deliverables that will take all weekend. That’s
if
I can get them done. I don’t know half of what you signed me up for.”

“Hmm, you sound upset,” I feign confusion.

“Upset? Are you daft?”

“There’s no reason for name calling. Listen, I’d love to help you, Lukie, but I’ve got plans. And besides, you’ve
got this
.”

Click.

Damn that was satisfying.

My phone rings two more times before I finally shut it off.

Walking into my apartment, I kick off my shoes and nearly skip across the living room and break into the running man when it hits me that I finally got the last word. My giddiness only enhances because I can’t remember the last time I was home by 5PM or had the apartment to myself before a date. To celebrate the small victory and decompress I pour a glass of my favorite wine and fill the bathtub. I throw my hair up into a messy bun and slip into the scorching water, letting the drama from work roll off my shoulders and soak until my fingers are pruney.

When I have no choice but to get out of the tub, I dry off and lather myself with my favorite lotion. I leave my hair down and slip into my sleeveless raspberry tiered flare dress and pair it with my silver sling back pumps. Wanting to look as good as I feel, I apply a second coat of mascara and cover my lips with gloss before heading out the door.

“Good evening, miss. How can I help you this evening?”

“Hi. I’m meeting someone. The reservation is under Clark.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Clark had to take a call. Let me show you to your table.”

I follow the maître d’ past dozens of tables, toward the dimly lit back corner, trying to get a glimpse of Chris in the crowd and come up empty. I met him getting coffee a
few weeks ago and he asked for my number. Since Brad’s friend has been busy, I said yes. From what I recall, Chris is very good looking, but not much taller than me in heels, though that’s not necessarily a deal breaker.

“Here you are. Enjoy.”

“Thank you.”

I power up my phone while I wait for Chris to join me, and find a host of texts from Lucas. Scrolling through them it’s apparent that his level of aggravation has continued to escalate. When I get to the last one I’m slightly worried.

Lucas: Game on.

What the hell does that mean?

Pulling up my email, I note one from Jack and one from his admin, though I don’t have time to find out what they say as I can see my date in my periphery. Flustered, I turn to my date and thank God I’m not drinking since the man I’m staring at would be wearing it.

“Glad to see you back in pink.”

Lucas

My nipples harden as if responding to a demand, and I curse my body more than ever for not getting on board with hating this man.

“What the hell are you doing here? I have a date.”

“Change in plans. I,” he says, pointing his thumb at his chest, “am your date.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he warns, sliding into the booth next to me when I attempt to get out. “You get my text?”

“Thought texting was impersonal.”

“Seemed fitting given the recipient.”

“Whatever. Real funny, Lucas. Can you please leave before Chris gets back?”

With one arm on the table, and the other draped casually behind me along the back of the booth, Lucas levels me with an arctic glare. “I’m not kidding. We need to talk.”

I study his features but his blank expression gives nothing away, making me slightly worried he’s telling the truth. “Where’s Chris?”

“On his way home I’d guess.”

I narrow my eyes. “What did you say to him?”

Lucas shrugs as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll just call him and explain that my co-worker is a lunatic.” I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts. Lucas covers my phone with his hand.

“Won’t help. What, with you carrying our love child and all.”

I gasp. “You didn’t!”

“Decided to go with something realistic to explain your outburst back at the office. Hormone related seemed like the logical choice.”

I curse myself for not paying more attention in my undergraduate criminal law class, because right now it’d be really important to understand how much jail time I’d do for butchering someone with a butter knife.

“He’s my brother’s best friend who I’ll be seeing this Sunday at dinner,” I lie.

“Then I guess your weekend just got interesting.”

“My weekend would have been plenty interesting without your interference.”

Somehow that’s entertaining to him. “Doubt that. Unless you planned on letting him
dust
.”

Dust?

Rolling the word over in my head, his meaning takes hold, and the embarrassment I felt just a week ago in a different restaurant seems insignificant.

Oh fuck no.

I flush with humiliation. “We are not discussing my…cobwebs.”

“Still intact then? Good to know.”

Everyone within a five-foot radius of our table turns when I groan loudly. “You had no right to—”

“And you did?”

“You deserve far worse.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes. “But if you’re going to volunteer me for something, you’d better be prepared to pitch in. Tomorrow, 9AM. Meet me at the office.”

“Like hell. The last month has been bad enough but you really are a lunatic if you think I’d help you after what you’ve pulled tonight.”

“Make the bed you sleep in, or so to speak.”

My mouth falls open.

Our waiter fills our water glasses and sets down a loaf of bread. Smart man that he is, Lucas takes hold of the knife and slices a piece before I get the chance to slice into him. He butters it and sets in on a small plate in front of me.

“No thanks.” I push the plate away and continue to sulk.

“I see you inhale a chocolate chip muffin on a daily basis. Don’t pretend you’re anti-carbs on my account.”

I sink back into the booth, letting my head fall against the back with a thud. I shake my head. I’m at a loss for how to move forward, if that’s even possible. This is so messed up.

“He wasn’t right for you, Gabriella.” His tone has softened and I force myself not to look to him. I’m sick of fighting but nowhere near ready to forgive him either.

“Interesting assumption coming from someone who knows nothing about him…or me.”

“I know enough,” he states arrogantly, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “For starters you’re not a bouquet of carnations kind of girl. He probably stole them off a table at another restaurant on his way here. If I had to guess, you’d appreciate something more creative. And he’s not your family friend. Some schlep who’s watched you at the coffee house three days a week for four months, and still doesn’t know how you take your coffee, hasn’t spent much time with you and isn’t
the one
.”

Before I have a chance to formulate a response, two women with grayish-blue hair appear at edge of the table. “Ah, ladies.” Lucas slides out of the booth and hands a folded wad of bills to the first woman. “Impeccable timing.”

He turns to me. “Gabriella, this is Harriet and Martha. They’re here on vacation from Arkansas. They’re going to dine with you tonight.”

“What?”

“Enjoy your meal, ladies,” he tells them, and then turns back to me. “Gabriella, I’d better see you tomorrow.”

I’m too pissed off to respond.

Harriet and Martha slide into the booth across from me, looking apprehensive and slightly excited. Harriet leans forward resting her elbows on the table and smiles. “Lucas explained you might be upset with him.”

“He overheard our wait time. Can you believe we were going to have to wait over an hour?” Martha asks.

“Anyhow, that sweet boy didn’t want you to eat alone. So, here we are,” Harriet explains with a shrug. “Isn’t that just so sweet?”

Martha and Harriet discuss their options for dinner, deciding on Steak Oscar and a salmon dish that they agree to split evenly and share, while telling me their life story. By the time my filet mignon is partially devoured my anger has dissipated to mild aggravation. When the chocolate lava cake has been polished off and we’ve paid the bill with Lucas’s money, I’m actually enjoying myself, which makes absolutely no sense.

For whatever reason, when it comes to Lucas my emotions are a vicious cycle of emotional high’s and low’s. It’s exhausting.
He’s
exhausting. And I need this partnership to work more than ever with my pending promotion and the potential of the Elder Care Program getting approved. Still, I can’t wrap my head around helping him tomorrow when he’s the one that’s continually pushes me away. Just once it’d be nice to have some say in how things played out.

I bid my new friends goodnight and take an Uber back to the apartment where I continue to stress over what to do. I’m no closer to an answer after midnight. Having tossed and turned for hours, I bring up my email on my phone when it’s obvious sleep isn’t in my future. Even though I’m shocked to see them there, I ignore three emails from Lucas and go straight to one from John.

Team,

Words can’t express how much it meant to have your support these past few days. The flowers at the service were beautiful and the two-month package of delivered gourmet meals will ensure my daughters eat for the foreseeable future while I figure things out. Many of you know that my wife was an amazing cook, a skill I never mastered. The reality that I’ll have to learn because she’s no longer here is overwhelming, but at least my daughters won’t starve in the meantime.

Thank you for your generosity and kindness.

John

I don’t need confirmation; Lucas arranged that and likely paid a fortune. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I close out of my email and slip back under the covers. I’m still pissed. One kind gesture doesn’t discount what happened tonight or since he started, but it’s a step in the right direction.

Tossing my phone on the nightstand, I roll over and hug my pillow, willing sleep to come. I’ll need every ounce of energy I can get if I’m going to make it through tomorrow.