Boss Next Door

by Beverly Evans

  “Why would I be?” She flashes me that heart-melting smile again. “I’m just as responsible for it as you. I recall saying, ‘I do’ in front of the Queen too. Besides, it’s a simple process to file the paperwork to fix it.”

  The relief I feel is profound. It feels like the weight of the world’s been lifted off my shoulders, and I allow myself to smile. In the back of my mind, though, her words echo – it’s a simple process to fix it. I know an annulment is the smart thing to do. I know it’s what we probably should do. But there’s a piece of me rebelling at the idea.

  That piece of my mind is telling me I have everything I’ve ever wanted sitting right in front of me and that I need to fight like hell to make it real. Chloe belongs to me as much as I belong to her. The hand of fate keeps leading us back to each other – and I want to believe it’s for a reason.

  Now that it’s out in the open and I can think clearly, I know this is what I want. That she is what I want. I don’t know how she feels about it – about me – so I don’t want to be too heavy-handed with the idea just yet. It’s a subject I’ll have to broach delicately, but I feel a growing confidence she’ll see that we belong together every bit as much as I do and that she’ll come to want the same thing. We are each other’s destiny. There’s no other explanation for it as far as I’m concerned.

  After another half hour of talking and laughing together, we decide to call it a night, since we have the Lyman presentation in the morning. I take her hand as we walk out of the restaurant, and she intertwines her fingers with mine, looking up at me with something like adoration in her eyes.

  “Thanks for not flipping out,” I say.

  She waves me off. “No harm, no foul.”

  I lean down and plant a soft kiss on the top of her head and wrap my arm around her waist as she leans her head against me. It’s a nice evening out, so we decide to walk back to the hotel, which is only a few blocks away. We pass a couple of twenty-something hipsters sitting on a bus bench, and from the corner of my eye, I see them checking Chloe out. Not that I blame them – she’s a beautiful woman, after all – in a sleeveless black and white polka dot dress that hugs the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts. She cuts a very striking figure.

  But that doesn’t mean I like them sitting there eye fucking her either.

  “Damn, look at the ass on her,” one of them mutters to the other.

  I stop and spin on a dime, quickly putting myself between them and Chloe. As I loom over them, both of the hipsters are wearing the same wide eyed, deer caught in the headlights expression on their faces. Realizing how weak they look, both get to their feet and do their very best to look tough.

  “Got a problem?” says the one on my right – a guy with a thick, bushy beard.

  “My problem’s that you’re a disrespectful little punk.”

  Chloe’s hand is on my arm, trying to pull me backward. “Braxton, don’t worry about it. They’re assholes, just ignore them.”

  It’s Chloe I end up ignoring, though, as I glower at the pair. The guy on my left, a wiry Asian guy, is wearing glasses with a thick, black frame, and pales as I stare daggers through him.

  “Apologize,” I demand.

  “For what?” says Beard.

  “Braxton, stop this,” Chloe hisses. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  “Better listen to your girl, old man,” he chuckles.

  I give them both a grin. “Do you really think I can’t beat your ass if I wanted to?” I sneer. “If I wanted to, you’d both be on the ground bleeding before you even thought to make a move.”

  I narrow my eyes and stare harder at them, almost willing them to do something. It’s then I hear the sound of high heels on the pavement and realize Chloe’s hand isn’t on my arm anymore. I see her walking away from me, her posture and the stomp of her feet on the sidewalk both angry. I turn back to find Beard grinning at me while Glasses is staring between his friend and me, his eyes wide and uncertain.

  “You should probably follow your bitch, man,” Beard chirps, but when my eyes meet his, I see the fear in him.

  I flex forward, feinting like I’m throwing a punch, and both hipster punks clamber backward – both of them falling over the bus bench in a tangle of limbs. Beard is cursing his quieter friend as he pushes him off and tries to get back to his feet – and hold onto some scrap of his dignity. I step forward and glare down at him, my eyes burning holes through his.

  “Watch your mouth when you speak to a lady,” I caution. “Or next time, you’re going to get your ass beat.”

  I turn and walk quickly away, trying to catch up to an obviously pissed off Chloe, knowing I’m in some deep shit with her. I fall in step alongside her. Chloe won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me. Finally, I step in front of her and put my arms on her upper arms to stop her. Chloe turns eyes that are filled with anger on me as she shakes my hands off her. When I look closer, though, I see something in her expression that hurts me even more – disappointment.

  “Chloe,” I start. “I’m sorry. I –”

  “There is no excuse for violence, Braxton,” she hisses. “You know how much I hate it.”

  “I didn’t lay a hand on either of them.”

  She puts her hands on her hips and glares at me. “I saw that look in your eye. You wanted to,” she says. “And if you hadn’t been worried about me walking away, you might have.”

  “You don’t know that,” I argue. “Hell, I don’t know that. All I know is that when they were so disrespectful to you –”

  “Stop it. You know how much I abhor fighting and the fact that you almost got into a fight – right in front of me – is disrespectful,” she growls. “Those two are pigs. But they’re kids, Braxton. You’re a grown man. You should know better.”

  “Chloe, I –”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Braxton,” she snaps. “There’s no excuse for that sort of behavior.”

  I know she doesn’t like violence. It scares her. She’s not afraid of confrontation, and I’ve seen her verbally eviscerate plenty of people through the years. But when it comes to throwing physical blows, I know that’s where she draws the line.

  And yet, even knowing that, I wasn’t able to throttle it back when those two clowns were being so disrespectful. Hearing anybody degrade her the way they did will set me off, and I don’t know how to control that rage once my blood is up. I don’t go around fighting everybody, but there are certain triggers that will always set me off. Degrading Chloe is one of them.

  I run a hand through my hair. “You’re right. I should know better. I shouldn’t let people get under my skin like that,” I admit. “But I have a really hard time controlling my temper when I see somebody disrespect you.”

  “They’re words, Braxton. Do you see me cut and bleeding? Do you see bruises on me?” she presses. “No because they’re words spoken by a couple of inconsequential little worms who mean absolutely nothing to me or my life. They’re beneath my notice. And they should be beneath yours as well.”

  I let out a long breath. “You’re right. And I’m sorry,” I say slowly. “I just get a little crazy when somebody treats you poorly. It infuriates me.”

  Some of the anger drains from Chloe’s face as she looks up at me. She steps forward and takes my hands in hers.

  “I appreciate how protective of me you are. It’s very sweet and chivalrous of you, and I know it comes from a good place,” she says quietly. “But I don’t need you to beat somebody to prove you care. More importantly, I don’t want you to.”

  We look at each other for a long moment, and I finally nod. “Okay. I’ll do my best to rein it in,” I tell her and mean it. “I’m sorry.”

  A small smile pulls the corners of her mouth upward. She stands on her tiptoes and places a chaste peck on my lips.

  “Good,” she says. “Now let’s get back to the hotel.”

  Hand in hand, we turn and start walking toward the hotel again. I know I’ve got a problem with my temper. Always ha
ve. I don’t know how I’m going to learn to rein it in, but I know if I want Chloe to be a part of my life, I’m going to have to figure it out.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chloe

  “Congratulations,” Braxton beams, raising his glass. “You killed it.”

  I feel the heat rush into my cheeks, but I raise my glass and tap it against his. The meeting with Lyman had gone far better than I’d been expecting it to. He was so impressed with my designs and presentation that he’d announced that he was ready to move onto the next phase of the project. To say I was blown away is a massive understatement – but it feels good to get a win like this.

  I look over at Braxton and give him a smile, more grateful than I can express for giving me the opportunity. He leans over and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek, and I feel a rush of warmth flow through me, the residual tension from last night thankfully gone. He really looked ready to beat those two kids to a pulp for something as stupid and ultimately inconsequential as an ignorant comment.

  But he’d blown up like it was the worst thing ever, and it startled me. When he caught up to me after the confrontation, I was glad to see he hadn’t done something equally stupid, and he’d apologized up and down. But it was a good reminder to me that the old Braxton – the hotheaded and intemperate one – still exists. For as much as he’s changed, and for the genuinely good man he’s become, there’s still a piece of the man he used to be inside of him. And it’s a piece of that old Braxton that scares me.

  I don’t want to think about that tonight, though. I look at Braxton sitting next to me, his joy and pride in me shining bright, and smile.

  “Next time, you two are going to have to come up our way,” a feminine voice says. “I really think you’d love it up there.”

  “Judging by the pictures I’ve seen, I have no doubt I would,” I respond.

  Braxton’s friends, Noah and Nadine, came down from a town called Briggs in Vermont, to have dinner with us before we have to head back to Vegas – with so many things in motion, we can’t afford to be away from the office for too long. Nadine and I hit it off instantly, and she feels more like a long lost sister than somebody I only met a couple of hours ago. I can see the easy friendship and affection Noah and Braxton have developed over the years since college. I haven’t seen him that at ease with somebody since the last time I saw him with Roman.

  Noah and Braxton are engaged in an animated discussion with each other. They’re so focused on each other; it’s like we’ve ceased to exist. Nadine rolls her eyes, giving me a wicked smile.

  “They get like this when they’re talking shop,” she grins.

  “Braxton can be one of the most focused people I’ve ever met,” I nod.

  “Well he certainly seems to be pretty focused on you.”

  My cheeks flare with heat, and I look down into my wine glass. “Yeah, I think things between us are going pretty well.”

  She chuffs. “Pretty well? Chloe, I’ve known him for a while now, and I’ve thrown, I don’t even know how many women his way over the years,” she says. “And I’ve never seen him a fraction as hung up on any of them as he is on you. Trust me; I know my boy.”

  I look over at Braxton, who’s huddled with Noah on their side of the table talking and smile before turning back to Nadine.

  “Think so?” I ask.

  “If you can’t see it, you’re blind,” she laughs. “There’s this glow about him I’ve never seen before. And the way he looks at you? I know plenty of women who would straight up murder somebody to be looked at like that.”

  I laugh and take a drink of wine, hoping the glass covers some of the color in my cheeks. I know the look she’s talking about, and honestly, I never knew what it felt like to be looked at so – adoringly. When Braxton looks at me, it’s like he’s seeing the most beautiful woman in the world. Like I’m the only woman who exists in his world. It’s definitely a way of being looked at that I can get used to.

  “Make no mistake about it, Chloe,” Nadine continues, “that boy is one hundred percent hooked on you and much to the chagrin of women everywhere, is also one hundred percent off the market. He worships you.”

  I laugh softly and chew on my bottom lip thoughtfully as I look over at him again. I can relate to what she’s saying in a lot of ways because I am absolutely hung up on Braxton. I suppose I always have been. But it’s only been since I’ve been back that something’s shifted between us. It’s like somebody finally flipped our magnets, and rather than pushing each other away, we’ve finally managed to give into that inexorable draw to one another.

  There’s a piece of me that wants to throw open the gates and give myself over to Braxton totally and completely. There’s a piece of me that wants to surrender to him heart, mind, body, and soul. And that piece of me wants the same from him in return. But there’s that one thing about him that makes me hesitant – his temper and that willingness to beat somebody to a pulp to prove a point. I haven’t yet reconciled how to feel or what to do about that.

  Nadine gives me a sly smile. “Given that you two are getting on so well, what are you thinking you’re going to do about the whole marriage thing?”

  I look at her, a bit surprised. But she laughs and puts her hand on my arm, giving it a squeeze.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to be so blunt or nosy – I suppose that’s just my nature,” she says. “But Braxton told us about it a few weeks back. He was terrified to tell you.”

  I laugh and nod. The uncertainty and nervousness I saw in him when he told me about it was cute. And in some ways, it made him even more real, more human, to me. Braxton has been blessed with a ton of confidence in his life. He’s always been so self-assured that seeing him fumble around like he did was not just different but endearing as well.

  “I suppose we’re going to get it annulled,” I shrug. “I mean, it’s not like we’re really married or anything. It was just a prank that went wrong.”

  A mischievous grin pulls the corners of her mouth upward. “Have you ever thought about not having it annulled? Maybe making it more – real?”

  Honestly, the thought hasn’t occurred to me – not in the day or so I’ve known that I’m technically a married woman. To me, it’s a paperwork mistake. And the logical thing to do is correct that mistake.

  “I mean, you two do realize you’re perfect for each other, right?” Nadine presses.

  “That thought has crossed my mind a time or two,” I admit. “But I don’t think we’re at the point where marriage is a realistic option.”

  “Why not?”

  “I – I don’t know,” I laugh, totally flabbergasted and unable to come up with a reason.

  “Think about it. You two are perfect for each other. And you’re obviously crazy about each other,” Nadine goes on with a devious grin. “Why not just – delay – putting in the annulment paperwork until you’re sure it’s not a relationship you want to take to the next level? I mean, it’s been almost a decade – what will a few more months hurt?”

  I finish off the last of my wine and let her words rattle around in my head a bit. What she’s saying makes a certain amount of sense – it has been years upon years, so what does a little more time matter? On the other hand, not annulling the marriage almost feels like living a lie. Maybe it’s silly to see it that way. Perhaps it’s a bit too morally – rigid. I’ve been accused of being uptight before.

  If nothing else, Nadine has given me something to mull over.

  “I really like Noah and Nadine,” I tell him. “They are the nicest people. Noah is definitely different than the guy I remember in college.”

  Braxton smiles at me. “They seemed pretty fond of you too. And he has definitely changed.”

  Hand in hand, we stroll along the path beside the lake in Central Park. Since it’s our last night in town, Braxton wanted to get out of the hotel for a while, and we pretty much have the grounds to ourselves. The air is pleasantly cool, and the moon hangs high in the sky, shimmering off the surfa
ce of the lake dazzlingly, turning it into a pool of silver. The view from The Langham was nice, but this is something else entirely. It’s quiet, peaceful, and absolutely gorgeous.

  “Maybe we can take a long weekend trip up to Briggs,” he offers.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Yeah, so would I,” he smiles.

  I pull him into the trees and lean against the trunk of a tree. The path we’re on is tucked under the thick canopy of the trees overhead that only allows thin slivers of silvery moonlight to penetrate the gloom. I turn and look into his eyes, a smile playing upon my lips.

  “Nadine thinks we should hold off on annulling the marriage for a bit,” I tell him with a soft laugh. “At least until we figure out where this thing between us is going.”

  He nods. “And what do you think about that?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, do you really think we’re in a place where we should be talking about marriage?”

  He laughs. “We’re already married.”

  I slap him in the arm playfully. “You know what I mean.”

  “It would probably be the smart thing to do, I guess,” he says. “But the truth is, there isn’t anybody else I want to be with. I want to be with you, Chloe. You are everything I’ve ever wanted in another person. You always have been.”

  Moving closer to him, I lay my hands on his chest, drawing comfort from the feel of his hard, toned chest and the warmth that radiates from his body. This situation between us is so strange that I really can’t seem to apply logic to it whatsoever. We are literally winging it every step of the way, and that sort of uncertainty has me on unsteady footing. It’s like nothing I’m used to.

  I know how I feel about Braxton, and his words make my heart swell to hear him say them. It gives me a sense of comfort, knowing that we’re on the same page emotionally – not to mention a strong sense of security. For the first time since we started all this, I don’t feel like I’m on shaky ground.

  But is that enough to base a marriage on? Or rather, is it enough to not annul an existing marriage on?