Boss Undercover: Part 3 (Boss Undercover Series)

by J. S. Badham

  “Hm, well, he’s trapping himself.”

  “Oi.” Claire gently smacked his hand, finding amusement in his cheeky comment.

  They shared laughter in the situation.

  “But…have you ever thought about marriage?” Claire innocently asked.

  Zack nearly choked on the mouthful of prawns he’d just consumed. “W—wow. Way to make a man nearly choke to death,” he teased as he slapped his chest.

  “Seriously, though. Have you?”

  Zack dabbed around his lips with the white cloth. “I…haven’t, if I’m honest.” He looked down at his lap, afraid to see Claire’s reaction, but once he dared to look up, she didn’t appear offended or put off. Instead, a sense of intrigue fell upon her face. “I—never really thought of myself and marriage. I mean commitment…was a lot for me.”

  “Interesting.” Claire coyly smiled.

  “What?” An amused smile targeted his own.

  “Nothing…anyway, tell me something funny,” she replied.

  It was difficult to not become absorbed by that infectious laugh of hers; it had nearly cost him missing Graves arriving through the front door. Zack had to excuse himself, saying he was going to pop to the gentlemen’s and then order drinks from bar, with the real intention of following the man in the blue mismatched suit.

  Graves was being escorted by a waiter, who led him through the main room and out of sight. Zack was aware of the more private space for those more privileged wishing absolute isolation from the ordinary folk in the main dining hall.

  How was he supposed to get in? He needed to know. He needed to get in. Zack was leaning his right elbow on the bar counter after ordering two lemon and Archers for himself and Claire. He gave a quick glance to Claire. Thank god her back was facing him.

  In the archway, a bouncer stood in sight with the traffic of the waiting staff entering and exiting the private space where the wealthy and those seeking extra attention sat. Perhaps money could persuade? Or a wardrobe change? He had to do something if he wanted to pry into Graves’ business.

  And then out of nowhere, an opportunity arose. One of the waiting staff, hot and sweaty, slid off their jacket, conveniently placing it on the chair underneath the front desk. They stood there for a second or two dabbing their forehead with a handkerchief before returning to the traffic of staff entering and leaving the kitchen.

  Now was his time. Zack left a note on the side, asking if his drinks could be kept aside whilst he excused himself very quickly, and then snaked through the hall towards the desk. In between that quick walk, he looked back and forth for any apparent threats and whether Claire was where she still was. She hadn’t moved, good.

  Pretending to grab some menus, Zack grasped the jacket and quickly scooted towards the bathroom with large strides. Once inside, he slid the jacket on, thankful for the pinned name tag on the blazer pocket. He only hoped the bouncer wasn’t on a friendly level with this particular staff member.

  Zack left the bathroom, passed and grabbed the menus he had messily discarded on the desk, and then headed for the private space. His heart was hammering, pounding like drums over and over.

  Trying to appear confident, he refrained from eye contact as he took two strides forward. The bouncer gave him a quick look-over before returning in his composed state. He was in. Zack sighed gently, dropping the menus on another desk that held extra cutlery and a desktop lit up with the layout of the restaurant, and then went on his mission to find Graves.

  There were several round booths, isolated by long red curtains hiding each inhabitant inside.

  He couldn’t just open them and peek in. That would just decapitate his cover. Instead, Zack remained attentive, listening as he passed each booth and dodged the odd employee making their returns to attend to their guests.

  “Gerald, I really thought you would have been pleased—” He heard a dainty, high-pitched voice as Zack stood by the first booth hidden beneath the robe of curtains.

  “Honey, I really don’t care if you have an affair with the pool boy or become a swinger as long as you don’t get caught. Do whatever you please. You know how this marriage works,” another deeper voice returned with.

  Trouble in paradise, Zack speculated as he pulled back and continued on towards the next booth.

  It wasn’t the second booth, either. It was another troublesome couple moaning, and the third booth gave Zack no hope.

  Until then with luck, the fourth booth became the jackpot. Any idiot could recognize that snake’s voice. Zack stood close by, cautiously keeping an eye out for any signs of the staff catching on to his suspicious behaviour whilst attentively listening to what he could make out that was happening in the booth.

  “So, is this it? Or—” That was Graves speaking. He sounded pathetic.

  “For now, yes.”

  Another male’s voice. Was this the perpetrator? Zack had to lean in more. Something seemed so familiar about that voice.

  “I think we’ve made it pretty clear, and it should send a message. I still expect you to contact me if any new changes occur and anything you believe will threaten the company’s foundation,” the male spoke, sounding self-assured and rather intimidating.

  Zack froze. Why did they sound so familiar? He didn’t want to believe it, but in the pit of his stomach, it sounded like his father. Could he believe his father would have stooped this low to jeopardize his son? It couldn’t be. But what if it was?

  “As for those emails, don’t be as sloppy next time. You cost yourself a valuable employee,” they added, a hidden spit of warning in the back of their throat.

  “Yes, I promise that won’t happen again. I do apologise sincerely, Mr. Benson,” Graves replied anxiously.

  Zack swallowed. Fuck.

  “I suppose it shocks you.”

  “Yes, I—I hadn’t expected the old CEO—”

  “Well, just keep it to yourself. Now, shall we celebrate with the lobster, Graves?”

  And there it was. The information Zack needed. It suddenly felt hotter in the room. Zack undid his collar button, slid the waiter’s jacket off, and threw it onto the floor as he escaped from the area.

  As he left the room, Zack felt the urge to punch something. Preferably his father. Zack knew how about his father despised his ideas, but to stoop that low? It was ridiculous. It should have been something he expected. Why he hadn’t put two and two together?

  ***

  Claire

  She had surveyed the room about twice, maybe four times, hoping to spot Zack. He’d been gone quite a while, which made her twitchier and more concerned that something bad had happened. Had he slipped in the bathroom? Got into a fight outside with some rude, drunk guest? Or had he slipped out, not wanting or meaning anything he said to her?

  Then out of nowhere, she spotted him carrying two short glasses, heading for their table.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, curious to the red flush that was refusing to leave his face.

  “Sorry—I was—getting drinks,” he said, placing them down before hastily getting into his seat.

  “Is everything all right? You seem pissed off. Did something happen?” Claire inquired, confident from his uptight posture and heavy sips from the glass that he was angered by something or someone.

  “No—yeah, I’m fine,” he replied.

  For the rest of that evening, Claire knew but wasn’t sure how far she could pry as Zack remained a little distant and annoyed.

  Chapter Six

  A full week had passed. Claire had not received any good news from the jobs she had applied for, and Zack had the trouble of biting his lip as he worked harder throughout the entire week, trying to devise a plan that could bypass his father, the man who was behind both Claire’s fall and his own. His attack had to be unexpected. Like father, like son.

  How on earth one could do that to their own son? wondered Zack. But this was Elijah Benson. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

  And now with the magazine just li
terally days away, there was the impending threat of Claire finding out the truth. Something he was starting to think he should have told her earlier about with their new-found relationship.

  ***

  Claire

  “Now, are you sure we have everything?” Claire asked again, causing Zack to sigh in frustration.

  “Yes, babe. We have everything. What more could we need? You’ve packed our toothbrushes, which I didn’t pack earlier. So I think we’re okay.”

  Claire scanned the bedroom once more than necessary then briefly glanced towards the suitcase at the foot of the bed. “I just don’t want to forget anything because I always tend to. Now, did I pack—”

  “Do you need your sanitary towels or tampons?” Zack interrupted, casually asking her as he flopped onto the bed and rested his head behind his propped-up arms.

  “No.” She shook her head, still looking around her room. “I’m not on till next week. And could you please be a little more helpful than just lying back like you’re on your holiday?” she scolded as she scurried around the bed and headed for her bedside table.

  “Lighten up,” Zack said, smiling before he sat up. He tugged her arm and pulled her back against him on the bed. “Now, just relax.” Claire snorted and fidgeted a little at the ticklish sensation of his words below her earlobe.

  “Zaaaack,” she groaned, trying to get up but failing miserably as he continued to tighten the embrace securing her petite body frame. “I—need—to get—up, ow, ow. My hair—get up, you fat pig!” She whacked and kicked her legs about as he rolled on top of her, suffocating her ribcage.

  “Say please,” he teased, rolling the tip of his nose against her cheeks. “Say please.”

  “Fuck you!” She huffed, trying with all her strength to push him off. “You’re gonna squash me! Zack!” Still he failed to move, and she was alarmed by the sudden arousal she felt by his digging member against her. “Okay, please! Please!” she begged, a little relieved yet at the same time disappointed his companion took a walk about, too.

  “You know,” he said, sitting up and caressing his fingers against her heated cheeks, “I love it when you squeal.”

  Claire rolled her eyes as she sat up, messy strands of hair sticking to the sides of her forehead. “Too bad you can’t do that in bed,” she teased with a wink.

  “You cheeky son of a bitch,” Zack hissed playfully before grasping her head and bringing her lips against his with wolfish need. Her hands ran through his hair as he pushed her back in the soft heaven of the quilt, his tongue skimming the surface of the inside of her mouth and his hands constantly squeezing the life out of her ass like kneading bread. “I love you.” He stopped for air. Claire smiled, her cheeks burning alight.

  “I love you,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Now, why did you stop?”

  Another half an hour or so and they could at last say they were ready to hit the road. A taxi driver called Barry turned up outside the apartment to drive them. Juggling the one suitcase into the boot of the car, Zack soon joined Claire in the back of the car where she was having a small natter with the man who looked as if he should be rallying in a boxing match. Fierce biceps, bushy greyish moustache, and golden hoop earrings running all up the side of each ear. Yet when he heard the fella speak, it appeared he had a soft touch. “So, lovely day isn’t it? Going somewhere nice this weekend?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” Claire replied as she searched through her purse. “Sorry,” she apologised to the driver, looking towards him at the rear mirror. “I get a little paranoid when making sure I’ve got everything. Yeah, me and my boyfriend here are going to my brother’s wedding.” She was given full interest from the driver ahead, who nodded and smiled like he was a cooing mother at a child’s school play.

  “That’s sounds lovely. Me and the wife are taking our caravan down this weekend to go fishing and whatnot. Gotta make the most of this weather, don’t we?” He suddenly came out with a pair of sunglasses and propped them on.

  “We do,” Claire agreed. “So, erm. Yeah, we’re heading to Worcestershire. I’ve got the address here.” She struggled to undo her seatbelt at first as she handed over a piece of paper and instructed the driver with a few more added details. Whilst this was occurring, her phone began to ring, so being the gentleman Zack was, he answered. “Hello. Claire can’t talk at the moment. Who is this?”

  “Oh, hi, it’s Darren,” the raspy, fragile voice of the broken-hearted man said. “I can call back later. I—”

  “Oh, no. She won’t be long. How—how you are doing, Darren?” Zack asked awkwardly.

  “I’m…okay, thank you for asking,” Darren replied after a brief pause of silence. “I’m just okay.”

  At this point, Claire sat back and looked over after sorting out the journey with the driver and realised that Zack was talking with someone on her phone. With a final word of consolation, Zack passed the phone over, leaving Claire to privately listen to what her friend had to say. Darren talked to her for the majority of the ride. Eventually, she pulled the phone back from her ear.

  “Sorry.” She looked over to Zack. “He was telling me about…some dreams he’s had lately.”

  “No, that’s fine. What dreams?” Zack asked.

  Claire exhaled as she rested back in the seat. “He sees Jonas in his dreams. Like he believes he’s trying to tell him something. I honestly don’t know, but I just hate him feeling like this. I know it’s out of grief, but what if the Jonas in his dreams…is, you know? Telling him things like—”

  “Don’t think like that,” Zack blurted out and grasped her hand. “Don’t you think like that, baby.”

  Claire nodded then inhaled. “You’re right.”

  “So, your parents?”

  “What about my parents?”

  Zack rubbed his jawline with his other free hand as he muttered, “They’re not eccentric, right? Not hippies or anything? You know those naked-ass people who—”

  “Oh, god no!” Claire howled out with laughter. “I mean…my mother can be a handful at times, but they’re great people. Aw, baby,” she cooed, squeezing his cheek. “You’ll be adorable. So, don’t go whimpering. Put your big boy nappy on.”

  Zack smirked, playfully shoving her hand away as he looked towards his lap. “You can be an arsehole sometimes.”

  “I know, but that’s why you love me.”

  The driver upfront suddenly cursed aloud as he slowed down the car. “Do pardon my language. We’ve hit traffic,” he said, pointing his hand out ahead where a sea of cars, lorries, and the odd motorcyclist stood in barely shifting congestion.

  “Well, that’s gonna tick off my mother,” Claire sighed as she smiled briefly over towards Zack. “Well, then handsome. Entertain me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Claire

  “God, that was the most awful, long, and tiring journey in history. And the taxi driver? Yeah, lovely he was, but he never shut up. I was tempted to get out the car, usher him out, and drive myself,” Claire groaned as she rested the back of her hand against her forehead. Zack smirked as he tugged on the suitcase’s handle as they began heading down the gravel driveway, the sound of crunching consistently following after and ahead. “And you just sat there, mister! Leaving poor little ol’ me to talk to the man. Like, god, how many—”

  “Claire!” A shrill voice echoed through Claire’s eardrums. “Oh, you’re here, my darling. Late, but here.” The familiar tone of scolding could only belong to her mother, the woman whose complaints to the store’s manager could authorise them to a year’s supply of teabags. She was really that good. Even before Claire could breathe a single word, she was suffocated in a tight embrace.

  “Okay, Mom,” Claire said through gritted teeth. “You can let go of me now.”

  It wasn’t that simple with her mother latching on for a further ten seconds before she elegantly retracted and her eyes sauntered over towards the gentleman standing behind their little reunion. Then she spoke in a p
oised manner, “And who is this?”

  Claire rolled her eyes at her mother’s pretentious display, rearing up to introduce Zack when the sudden outburst of her mother racing up to Zack and engulfing him into a hug startled her.

  “I know who this is!” Claire’s mother yelped as she clawed her nails into his back. She sure was a hugger. “This is the handsome fella you’ve been on about. Oh my, I’m Linda.” She blushed as she pulled back and deliberately curled a finger around his jaw. “He is a fine fella. How old are you—”

  “Mom,” Claire hissed as she grabbed her mother’s hand with a golden wedding ring around her fourth finger.

  “Oh, Claire. I tease,” her mother said, rolling her eyes. “Now, let’s go inside.” She gestured with her hands like an eager zookeeper trying to persuade the animal to follow. Zack headed in first, shrugging his shoulders as he smirked, leaving the astounded Claire to sigh at her mother’s display.

  “So, tell me, Zack, what do you like about my daughter?” her mother asked. God, she cringed. So, whilst leaving Zack to the vexation that could be her mother sometimes, she headed into the second room on the right where she knew her father would be either snoring his head off or tinkering around with some car parts that her mother strongly protested being in the house.

  “Dad.” Claire smiled as she entered the room, finding correctly that her father, Andy, was fiddling with some part that belonged to a car’s exhaust. “Trust you to find you here doing this. Where’s Matty? Or when is he coming around?” she inquired as she slid onto the sofa beside him.

  “Well, I think he’s still recovering from his hangover yesterday. The lads had him tied to a streetlamp, and he was pissed. Also,” Andy said, pausing as he ushered Claire to come closer as he whispered, “I don’t think either of us wants to be coming home when you know your mother can give you ten times the smothering and headache.”

  Claire giggled at her father’s tease, feeling as always like that small, special girl. “Dad, he’s here,” Claire said, trying to restrain herself from squealing.