Romance: The Boss (16 page)

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.

On my way back from the restrooms, I try to stay as close to the bar as possible. Clint should be back at the booth by now, hopefully still none the wiser about what had happened when he was gone.

But just when I think I’m home free, just when I think I can avoid Clint Townsend for another day, I hear him calling my name.

“Lauren!”

I let out a captured sigh and slowly turn around, his steamy blue eyes only inches from me.

A whole week of avoiding him, a whole week of deleting his voicemails and texts and fighting the urge to reply to them, has now been shattered in one instant.

This is going to be one hell of a conversation.

“So, out of all the bars in New York, you had to walk into mine,” I say intrepidly, making it obvious that I don’t want to talk to him.

“Well actually, you walked into mine. I own this place,” he replies with that classic high-class smirk.

It’s beyond infuriating.

“What? You’re lying.”

“I assure you I’m not. It’s Deacon’s little venture. Hence the name we came up with, Rapid. Granted, he dropped out of college to open it, but I thought it would be a good investment.”

Of course, how could I have failed to make the connection earlier?

Rapid stands for Rapid City.

“You and your investments,” I sigh, shaking my head while contemplating making another dash for it. “I bet your mom was thrilled about that.”

“She’s coming around to the idea.”

“Look, Clint, good on your little brother for opening this place. I hope it’s a raging success for him, but I need to get back to my friends. I really don’t want to do this right now.”

“But I thought we could finally talk,” he utters softly, his expression somewhat bleaker. “Just give me five minutes, please, Lauren?”

I hate it when he says my name like that, purring it out like he knows how much I swoon over it. He wants five minutes, huh? I suppose I could at least manage that.

“If I give you five minutes, will you honestly leave me alone?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, go. Your five minutes started thirty seconds ago.”

Clint takes a deep breath and begins to explain. “Look, what happened the other day, it honestly wasn’t—”

“Lauren!”

Great, someone else is shouting to me now.

Can’t a girl just get a drink at a bar and have some peace for a second?

I spin around unexpectedly to find Adam pacing toward us.

“Hey, we thought we’d lost you,” he says grinning, his eyes then landing on Clint.

I see Clint’s jawline quiver, observing Adam the way a hunter marks a lion.

“Brooke has ordered us some weird eggnog cocktail thingy. I was given strict orders to come find you.”

“O-oh,” I stammer, putting on a smile. “I’ll be there soon. I just need—”

“Hi,” Clint intervenes, extending his hand past me and toward Adam. “Clint Townsend, Lauren’s boss. Nice to meet you…?”

“Adam.”

“Adam,” Clint repeats complacently, shaking his hand.

“Townsend? As in the billionaire?” Adam asks, eyes widening in anticipation.

Great, he’s another Wall Street aficionado. Where’s that eggnog cocktail when you need it?

“The very same,” Clint smirks, shooting me a look like he knows this is only pissing me off.

“Wow, Lauren never said you were her boss.”

“She didn’t, huh? Well, we haven’t been on the best of terms lately. We had…a little fight. But we’re past that now,” Clint says wryly, placing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me toward him gently. “Right, Lauren?”

“Right,” I say reluctantly, trying to save face yet secretly wishing I could smack him one. I don’t like pretending things are okay when they’re not, especially when Clint is the one orchestrating this little performance.

“Cool, I wish my boss was that laid-back,” Adam jests, completely buying the whole act.

When silence falls among the three of us, Adam jovially uses it as a timely exit.

“Well, I’ll let you guys get back to it. It was great to meet you, Mr. Townsend,” he salutes Clint like they’re comrades in arms, like he’s still frothing over the fact that he’s met such a prominent figure. “I’ll see you back over there in a bit, Lauren,” he says, squeezing my hand lightly before he walks away.

I see Clint’s austere blue eyes flinch. Jealously really doesn’t suit him.

When Adam is finally out of sight, I wheel on Clint. I just want him to say what he needs to say and then leave me the hell alone.

“Okay, what was that?” I ask impatiently.

“What?”

“You know what. ‘We’re past that now.’ We are far from past it, Clint. Why are you even here?”

“I told you, I own the place.”

“Don’t play games with me. I mean here right now, talking to me. Why?”

“I’ll explain on the dance floor,” he says insouciantly, the suave businessman back in character.

He has to be kidding.

There’s no way I’m dancing with him—this is neither the time nor the place for it.

“I’m not dancing with you,” I hiss, glancing around sketchily to make sure no one can hear us.

“Just one dance,” he begs, taking my hand.

I fling it away instantly.

What the hell is he playing at?

Is he drunk or just being arrogant again?

It really is hard to tell with him these days.

“No,” I say sternly.

“One dance, and you and your friends can have free drinks for the rest of the night and I’ll leave you alone…for as long as you want me to.”

I tilt my head to the side and laugh sardonically. “You have some nerve, but fine. One dance, free drinks for my friends, and then you leave me alone. Permanently.”

Clint bows his head in agreement. “Deal.” And then he takes my hand, leading me through a tangle of people before we finally come to a second room hollowed out for couples that only want to slow dance.

When I hear Ivy’s “Edge of the Ocean” playing in the background, it’s almost the final straw. I love this song, but seriously?

As if things couldn’t get any mushier.

Chapter Twelve