Cocky Suits Chicago: Books 1-3

by Alex Wolf

  He smiles and jokes like nothing is wrong in his world and I feel like I’m slowly cracking. Like my entire life might just crumble down any second. I hate it. I hate this. I hate being in this office breathing the same air as him. I hate feeling this way. Being angry and still wanting him. I want out of my head for just five minutes.

  I exhale a long breath and do what I should have done two weeks ago. I march to Decker’s office.

  “Is he in there?”

  Quinn nods. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” She picks up her phone. “Abigail is out here. Do you have a minute?” She hangs up the phone. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I plaster a fake smile to my face and hope it’s convincing.

  “You sure?”

  The pity in her eyes has my skin crawling, but I know she’s just being nice. “I’m good.”

  “You can go on in. He’s waiting.”

  “Thank you.”

  I walk in.

  Decker leans back in his chair and looks intimidating as hell, but I square my shoulders and push all my anxiety away.

  “Abigail.” He gestures to the seat in front of his desk. “Look, I’m sorry about—”

  “It’s fine. It’s done. That’s not why I’m here.”

  His glance turns quizzical. “Okay, so what can I do for you?” He’s being way nicer than usual, which tells me he knows he fucked up, but he probably won’t apologize.

  I don’t want him to anyway. I meant what I said. I just want to forget it ever happened. I don’t want to hold grudges or blame anyone. I just want to put this all in the rearview mirror.

  I take a seat. “I was, umm, I don’t really know how to say this, but is it possible for me to transfer back to Dallas?”

  “Is this because of Dex?”

  I shake my head. Of course it is, Decker, Jesus. How can you run this firm and be so blind sometimes? “No, I just miss home. I want to be back near my family.” I’m sure he probably sees right through the lie. If he doesn’t, he’s oblivious.

  “You sure it’s not about Dexter and the Covington thing?”

  I really don’t want to get into this again. It’ll bring back too much pain. “I don’t know, Mr. Collins. Probably some of it. I do miss my family. I just feel awkward, like I don’t belong here.”

  “You’re a great employee. I had really high hopes for you. Have you talked to him?”

  “No.” I have to choose my words carefully. For all I know he’s recording the damn conversation. “There’s not really anything he can say or do. Things just didn’t work out between us.”

  He glances off at the ceiling, then his eyes fall back on mine. “If that’s what you want then I don’t see why not. I’m sure Weston would love to have you back. Do you have any work that needs transitioned?”

  “No. I got everything wrapped up. I was going home to visit for Christmas before any of, well, you know... It should go pretty smooth.”

  “Okay, well, when do you want to go back?”

  “I’m leaving for Dallas tomorrow. It would make it easier if I could just stay there.”

  “Wow. Okay, I’ll call him this afternoon. You sure you’re okay? You’ve thought about this?”

  I nod. “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, well I’ll make the call.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Collins. I really appreciate the opportunities you gave me here. I learned so much.”

  “The pleasure was ours, even if we only had you a short time.”

  I turn to walk out.

  “Abigail?”

  I stop and face him. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Decker, okay?”

  I nod. “Okay, thank you, Decker.” It feels so weird calling him by his first name, but I don’t want to be rude and I really do appreciate everything he’s done for me, professionally. I could stomp a hole in his chest for mixing business with my personal life, but I love my job and going off on him in his office would be stupid. It would be something Dexter would do and I’m better than that.

  I walk through the door and let out a deep breath. I’m not going to cry. I’m doing the right thing.

  As soon as I look up, Dexter is standing right there.

  Shit.

  Dexter

  I head toward Decker’s office. I need to talk to him about Wells Covington. He’s going to get on board or I’m finding a new job. He’s making a monumental fuck up, the way he’s handling this. I’ve had to meet with Rick twice already to go over stuff when I’ve had far more important things to be dealing with.

  It already destroyed my relationship. It’s not going to ruin me professionally too. I’ve had to meet with clients and work a ton the past two weeks. I still met with Covington twice, but I’m not about to tell Decker that.

  I know I should apologize to Abigail, but I don’t know what to say to her, so I bury myself in work, meeting with potential clients. I tried to reach out a couple times and my calls went straight to voicemail. I sent two texts and they went unanswered.

  I need to clear all my work off my plate and then I’ll deal with her before she leaves for Christmas. If there’s one thing I know about her and me, it’s that we need to cool off. I can sit down and talk to her now that all the anger is out of our systems and at least give her something to think about while she’s there. I can’t do two things at once and be in two places at once and it’s driving me insane.

  As soon as I walk up to tell Quinn I need to talk to him, Abigail walks out of his office. Fuck, it’s too soon. I’m not prepared to say anything, but I have to say something.

  She eyes me and tries to speed past, but I step in her way. “Hey, I really need to talk to you. I’ve been slammed with work, but I tried calling a few times. I just really want to sit down and talk face to face. Please?”

  She shakes her head. “Don’t bother. It’s too late for that.”

  Before I can respond she just walks past me.

  What the fuck? I didn’t yell at her. Can she not even talk to me now? I know I screwed up, but she was at that asshole’s apartment and I didn’t even blow up on her. I kept my cool.

  I keep glancing back and forth between Decker’s office and Abigail walking away and I want to scream. My whole life is out of order and I’m going to die if I don’t get all this shit figured out soon. Fuck it, she needs to cool down a little more apparently. She looked like she was about to rip my head off. I’ll just wait it out another day or two. She can’t stay pissed-off forever.

  Or can she? That’s what worries me. Fucking women. They know how to hold a grudge. Jesus.

  I walk into Decker’s office.

  The second his eyes come up from whatever he’s reading, he lets out an exasperated sigh and holds up a hand. “Not more personal shit. I can’t fucking deal with it right now.”

  My eyebrows rise. “What?”

  "Yeah, your little girlfriend was in here wanting a transfer back to Dallas. She’s my best researcher out of all the paralegals and she wants out of here, because of you. I’m sure you’re coming in here to stop it from happening. I can’t deal with all this shit. Not right now.”

  I swear my heart stops beating. All the air sucks out of my lungs, and then my face heats to a million degrees. It’s even worse than at Thanksgiving. And fuck Decker for wanting to blame all of this on me. He’s guilty too.

  Decker turns around and his eyes widen when he sees me. “Just calm down for a minute, okay?” He takes a step toward me.

  “She’s not fucking going anywhere.” I haul ass toward the door.

  “Dex! Get your ass back…”

  I fly out of the room before he can finish his sentence.

  The whole office is a blur. People try to say shit to me, but I don’t hear a word. I sprint down the stairs and out the front just in time to see Abigail slide into a cab.

  “Fuck!”

  Everyone on the sidewalk turns and stares at me after I scream the word. My head is on a swivel, craning around, and I see the parking garage. Thank God I drove t
oday. I take off running through the street and a couple cars screech to a halt and lay on their horns, but to hell with them. I fish for my keys as I slalom between a couple pillars in the parking garage over to my car.

  It fires up and I haul ass out into Chicago traffic. The skyscrapers float by overhead and the engine rumbles under my feet as I zoom in and out between cars, going as fast as I can through downtown.

  At the last second the car in front of me slams to a halt while the light is still yellow.

  “Fucking pussy, go!” I beat on the horn.

  A middle finger flies up and I halfway start to unbuckle my seatbelt, but I can’t chase Abigail down and tell her to stop being an idiot from a jail cell. So, I just sit there, breathing heavily, brooding.

  What the fuck? Yeah, I was an asshole but you’re just going to up and move across the country over it? Why the hell did I have to fall in love with a twenty-four-year-old? This is the type of shit they do. The sky is falling anytime someone makes one little mistake. It’s not like I fucked someone else. I can’t even think about anyone else but her and she won’t give me the time of day?

  You were a dick, man. It was a major screw up. Don’t rationalize it. You need to calm down.

  I want to do anything but listen to my brain right now, even though I know I should. My fingers grip the wheel. I shouldn’t be going to talk to her right now, not like this. It’s what got me in trouble the last time, but I can’t help myself. I just want to grab her by the shoulders, shake her, and make her listen to reason. I want to promise I won’t ever fuck up like that again. My heart just aches. I’ve never experienced anything like it.

  It’s my fault. All my fault.

  I just want to scream at the top of my lungs.

  I don’t think you can ever really appreciate how much you love someone, until they’re taken away from you.

  Finally, the light turns green and I fly down Abigail’s street. I catch a glimpse of yellow and her getting out of the cab, just as I pull up. I throw the Chevelle in park, right in the middle of the road because I don’t give a shit about a car or a job or anything else. I just want her.

  I rip open the door to my car and take off running to cut her off before she can make it inside her building. Horns blare and people shout all kinds of shit because my car is blocking the road, but I don’t pay any attention to it. I run up the steps and grip her forearm and spin her around.

  Her eyes go wide at first, then narrow in on me. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

  I throw my hands up. “Seriously, Abby. We need to talk.”

  “It’s not the time. Like I said, not right now.”

  “Oh, would tomorrow be better, when you’re in Texas?”

  She grits her teeth. “I said not right now. I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “You’re acting like an idiot.”

  Her face tenses. “Me! I’m an idiot? Are you kidding me right now?”

  I shake my head. “You’re not going back to Texas. What’s wrong with you?”

  She shoves a finger in my face. “You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. You’re not my father. You were supposed to be my partner, but you’re not anything to me anymore!”

  Her words are like a slap to my face. Fuck, it hurts so damn bad.

  She stares down at the concrete. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean that, Dex. I’m just hurt, and…”

  “Well, you said it. I’m here. I’m trying. I wish you’d just talk to me. I just need to hear your voice or be around you or something, I don’t know.”

  She looks up and there are tears in her eyes. Her voice lowers an octave and her words slow down, like she’s having trouble getting them out without having a break down. “You left me. At your brother’s house, with your whole family, on Thanksgiving. And I work with all of them. They’re my bosses. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? Do you really have any idea? You acted like a child. In fact, all of you act like children. And that’s saying something, considering it’s coming from a twenty-four-year-old who is actively trying to have fun and be irresponsible at this stage in her life.”

  I nod. “You’re right. I know.”

  She reaches out and grabs my forearm.

  I just want to hold her so fucking bad and make a million promises to her, but I can’t. She won’t let me. And I can’t really blame her when I step back and look at everything I did. I broke the one promise I made to her. The one that mattered the most.

  “I really, really love you, Dexter. It’s why this is so hard. If you were any other guy, I wouldn’t even talk to you. I had an amazing time, being with you, and I’ll never forget it. But I can’t be near you right now. I just… can’t.” Her voice cracks a little. “It physically hurts, so much, even being in the same building as you. I have to go back home and get away from this place. I’m sorry.”

  Before I can say anything else, she turns and walks through the door. I want to run after her, but I don’t. Seeing her in that kind of pain was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. I don’t want to make it worse.

  I finally make my way back out to the car. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt the way I do right now.

  It feels like my life is over. Like there’s nothing worth living for.

  Dexter

  It’s a week before Christmas and I can’t concentrate for shit. Work sucks. I see Abigail everywhere, even though she already left for Texas like a week ago. Life is dull, colors are drab. Going for runs, working out, driving along the lake in the Chevelle—none of it helps. All I think about is her. I see Christmas displays everywhere and I just want to light the fucking things on fire.

  I should throw myself into work and focus on managing this Covington situation, but I can’t think. I finally got Decker to listen to reason for two fucking minutes and we’re assessing things with Covington on a day-to-day basis. It’s the one highlight of the last week, but even that feels insignificant. I think he only did it because he felt bad. That’s how he apologizes for shit, by not being an asshole about something for two seconds but leaving it open-ended so he can still get his way.

  I barely eat anything. Can’t sleep. I want her back so goddamn bad. All I think about is her meeting some asshole in Texas. Smiling at some other guy at one of those line-dancing bars where they ride bulls and shit, whatever they do down there. He has a big belt buckle and talks like a fucking moron with his pussy cowboy hat. The entire scenario plays out in my mind over and over. It’s fucking torture, and I did it to myself.

  I’m sure she’s probably doing the same thing as me, judging by her reaction outside her apartment. I’m sure she’s talking to her mom and lamenting ever giving me the time of day. But in my brain, she’s moved on with someone else, because the mind is a dick like that.

  How could I have been so stupid? I pushed her away and acted like a total asshole.

  I head up the elevator in Deacon’s building. I know him and Quinn are off doing some stupid romantic shit and it reminds me of ice skating and the yacht. The whole time Deacon told me about his big plans for Quinn tonight, my heart squeezed tighter in my chest and I damn near had a panic attack. I managed to escape without him noticing. How? I have no idea.

  Mr. Richards is home, though, and he’s a good listener. At least last time I talked to him I ended up going and asking Abigail out. It turned my luck around and fuck if I wouldn’t try anything right now. I’m desperate. I’ve never been superstitious in my life. I’ve always left that to my idiot brothers, but here I am. I’d go see a fucking psychic at this point if I thought there was an inkling of a chance of it working.

  I walk through the door without knocking, like I own the place, and he’s faced toward the TV in his electric wheelchair.

  “Come on in, son.”

  “How do you know I’m not here to rob the place?”

  “I figured you’d be here sooner or later. Quinn told me what happened.”

  I shrug. “Fair enough.”

&
nbsp; His hand points to the couch, but his eyes never leave the TV. “Well, lie down. I’m thinking about starting a side business, imparting wisdom to all you pompous rich bastards.”

  I snicker. He’s probably right. It’d make Decker happy if he could take care of all the personal shit around the office. I walk over and lay down on my back, staring up at the ceiling. It really does feel like a counseling session all over again.

  I don’t even wait for him to ask, I just launch into it. “I messed up, bad, Mr. Richards. Got pissed off about some work stuff. I mean, it was a huge deal, but it wasn’t her fault. I just got so damn, angry, all at once. And I never get pissed. I’m always the one keeping the peace with everyone else, staying neutral, level-headed and all that bullshit. Like fucking Switzerland or whatever.”

  “Yeah, you Collins brothers do get angry like that under certain conditions.”

  “What? Really?”

  He nods slowly, still staring at the TV. “Yep. You guys are a weird bunch when it comes to your damn women. Always fucking it up, flying off the handle.” He does that whistle thing that trails off.

  “This was about work, though.”

  “Involves your women when it happens. Deacon did the same thing, didn’t he? He ever blow up about ‘work shit’ before then?”

  I think back. “No. Never.” Interesting. I never put two and two together. I mean, I know Abby was involved, but I just thought it was work-related because I always compartmentalize everything. Abby and I rarely ever even talked about work. When Deacon blew up it was because Quinn was involved too.

  “Look, son. There’s nothing wrong with being passionate about your woman. Fuck, you should be, otherwise what’s the damn point? It’s why some places have rules and it’s definitely an unwritten rule that you shouldn’t date people at the office.” He shakes his head. “Stupid, though. You can’t help who you fall in love with.”