Conflict of Interest (Employee Relations Book 1) (77 page)

She wraps her arms around my neck and smiles. “And why’s that?”

I don’t get the chance to answer.

“Gabby DiVergilio? I thought I saw you on the dance floor.”

A forty-something woman with red hair pulls Gabriella into a hug. When the woman releases her Gabriella’s face is white as a sheet.

“It’s so good to see you. And who is this?” the woman asks eying me suggestively.

“I’m Luc—”

Gabriella steps on my foot, not so subtly telling me to keep quiet.

“Luke. This is my friend Luke.”

Friend? What in bloody hell?

“Nice to meet you, Luke. I’m Sandra.”

I glance at Sandra, trying to figure out the connection between the two.

“I’ve been meaning to email you,” Sandra tells Gabriella. “I owe you an apology for how I behaved the last time I saw you.”

Gabriella offers the woman a weak smile. “It was an unfortunate situation. You look great though. Are you living in New York now?”

“Just moved here last month, though I still go back to Boston frequently to see Jacob. I have to say, getting fired was the best thing for me. I’ve always wanted to live in Manhattan and I got a bigger role out of it. Let me buy you a drink.”

Politely dismissing her, Gabriella tells her, “That’s not necessary but it was great seeing you. I’m glad everything worked out.”

“Alright, well it was good seeing you.” Then she turns to me. “Nice meeting you, Luke. Take care.”

Gabriella nervously watches Sandra walk away.

“Shit,” she exhales.

“What was that about?”

Gabriella closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “That was your predecessor.”

“You fired her?”

“Yes,” Gabriella confirms.

Rumors circulated about her departure when I arrived—office affair, embezzlement, incompetence—I didn’t give them much attention. But thinking back to that initial conversation with Jack the pieces fall into place. He didn’t specifically say my predecessor had violated the non-fraternization policy but it was certainly implied.

I place my hands on her shoulders and dip my head down to hers. “Was she sleeping with another employee?”

“I can’t discuss that.”

Whether or not she gives me the details her reaction tells me all I need to know. Sandra got caught screwing another employee. Now Gabriella’s doing the same thing she’s fired other people for. Including the person who previously had my job.

What are the chances of that?

“Talk to me, love.” I wrap my arm around her and pull her against my chest.

Gabriella shakes her head and maneuvers out of my hold.

My stomach twisted in knots. Wanting clarity on how we’d stay together without screwing up our careers or sacrificing the wellbeing of her mother and grandmother was easy to dismiss minutes ago. Consequences were only a possibility. Now they’re a reality and Gabriella isn’t going to let it go.

Just like I can’t let her go.

Attempting to reassure her, I downplay the situation.

“It’s natural to feel uneasy about this but trust me when I tell you we’re fine. Sandra lives in the New York. She has no idea who I am.”

Gabriella straightens and unnerves me with an unreadable expression. I have no idea what she’s thinking, but I’m positive it’s not good.

When she finally speaks I cringe because I’m right.

“I wish I could believe that.” She steps back from me and fidgets with her hands. “I want to go back to Ki’s.”

The next morning I wake to gray clouds, or perhaps it’s the sour mood lingering from last night. It doesn’t help that sitting at the end of the bed is a fully dressed Gabriella, clutching a large mug of coffee and looking lost.

“Hey,” I groan while stretching, my voice raspy from sleep. “You should have woken me when you got up.”

“Did I tell you that my grandmother gave me my first cup of coffee when I was six years old?”

I shake my head, unsure if she’s looking for a response or not. “No. I didn’t know that.”

“She did. Filled it with mounds of sugar and a ton of milk. I was so hyper it was hours before I calmed down and when I did I passed out.”

Unsure of where this is going, I cautiously sit up.

“My parents were busy carting my brothers around to sports practice and running the restaurant so I spent a lot of time with both of my grandparents. Grandma never learned how to drive, which was probably a blessing given her temper. That meant where us girls wanted to go my grandfather would take us.” She pauses to look at me over her shoulder. “You would have liked my grandfather. Sometimes you actually remind me of him. Good mannered and serious…he was the only person besides you that always called me by my full name.”

I laugh awkwardly. “You think I’m serious?”

“And he had a dry sense of humor,” she continues as if she hadn’t heard me. “He was the kind of guy who’d wait on his front porch and watch until your car was out of sight and demand a phone call when you made it home. He didn’t dish out ‘I love yous’ very often and sometimes he seemed cold, but his family came first and everyone knew it. It’s why no one was surprised when he neglected his own health issues in order to care for my grandma.”

“He must have loved her a lot.”

“She was his world,” Gabriella agrees. “When I was young and stayed the night at their house I’d sneak downstairs and watch them dance. Every night without fail he’d put on the record player even if they’d been in a fight, and dance. I think that’s why nights are especially hard for her,” she looks at me with a weak smile. “Most of the time she doesn’t remember that she had a husband or know who she is but it’s there somewhere in the back of her mind. There marriage wasn’t perfect but it was filled with passion. Someday I want that.”

Thoroughly confused, I lean forward. “Love, tell me what’s wrong?”

She stills and when I reach for her she stands.

Not a good sign.

“Does it matter? You won’t talk about it anyway.”

Anxiously, I search her face. “Look, I understand that you’re shaken up by our run in with Sandra, but—”

“That’s not it. Or at least it’s only part of it.” She sets down her mug and pulls her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. “All morning I’ve been trying to justify what we’re doing, Lucas and I can’t. I want what my grandparents had, what my parents have. I want something real.”

Throwing the covers back I push out of bed and dig through my bag for clothes. “Give me a minute to get dressed and we’ll go to breakfast. We’ll talk.”

“Why does it take something monumental to get a reaction from you?”

I pause and turn to look at her.

“Is that what you want? To get a rise out of me?” I question a bit defensive.

“What I want is to talk about our relationship without feeling like I’m forcing you into a conversation. We’re never going to move forward this way and I’m not going to constantly watch over my shoulder, afraid of who might catch us. This isn’t a relationship, Lucas. It’s an affair.”

“It might feel that way -”

“I love you,” she blurts out.

Her words hit with a slamming force, knocking the wind out of me.

Gabriella loves me.

Not a complete shock but hearing it floors me all the same.

Say it back, dipshit.

For whatever reason I can’t.

“Gabriella, I…”

The silence between us grows so heavy it’s as if another person is with us. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

She shakes her head. “Kyra and I are going to take the train back to Boston.”

“You can’t drop something like that on me and then leave me?”

“Not leaving. Giving us both time to figure things out.”

I thread my fingers through my hair, pulling at the roots. “Running into her was a fluke. We’re not confined to Boston and New York.”

“See that’s the thing. Your idea of dealing with this is to change location. I get that you saw this weekend as an opportunity, but here’s what I see going forward. Company functions we can’t attend together. Having people believe we’re single when we’re not. Moving in together but having to get my mail delivered to my parents house because I can’t list your place as mine.” She sucks in a lungful of air. “Excuses ready just in case because we could get caught at any time. That’s not the life I want.”

“So you’re not just leaving now. You’re leaving
me
.”

She shakes her head. “No. At least that’s not what I want. I need to think, to process everything. I need time.”

Time. The same request I’ve made on countless occasions parroted back to me is like a slap across the face. I’m suddenly nauseous.

I could argue with her and press to have the conversation now, or admit to her that I love her too but she’ll see it as an attempt to manipulate her into giving
me
more time. More importantly, if it’s that hard to voice my feelings how can I trust that what I feel truly is love? I’m clueless and overwhelmingly desperate.

Reluctantly I walk to her, stopping when we’re a foot apart. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And I don’t want to pretend.”

She presses up on her toes and lightly touches her soft lips to my cheek. She picks up her bags and before I have the chance to respond, she’s gone.