Boss I Love To Hate

by James, London

  “Compass is your dad’s company,” I say softly.

  Sawyer takes in a deep breath, with a grimace on his face.

  “Well, technically it’s mine now,” he corrects me. “But my father was the founder, yes.”

  As I listen to his words, I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach, and all the air has been driven from my lungs. I stare at him for a minute, wide eyed and open mouthed as the shock surging through me gives way to a potent anger.

  “Are you even fucking kidding me right now, Sawyer?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not, and I know I should have said something sooner –”

  “You’re goddamn right you should have,” I hiss. “Like the night of the board meeting.”

  “I know, I just –”

  “You what? Thought it would be fun to screw with me?” I snap. “Oh, I know – you thought you could take another run at getting me into bed, right? Try to complete that old college conquest? Is that it?”

  He chuckles. “You and Rider, you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  “Shut up. Just shut up,” I sneer. “Nothing about this is funny.”

  He sits back in his seat as the smile falls from his face. He looks back at me, his expression smug, arrogant, and without the least bit of contrition. I know I should stand up and walk away, but there’s part of me that wants answers. Wants to know what he thought he was going to get out of playing this stupid game with me. I mean, I figure I already know what his ultimate endgame was, but for some reason, the masochistic side of me wants to hear him say it.

  Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and try to gather my wits about me. It’s a process I have to repeat a few times.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. “What was your ultimate goal here, Sawyer?”

  “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be pissed. I knew this is how you’d react.”

  “Damn right I am,” I spit. “And I have every right to be.”

  “Maybe,” he replies.

  “Maybe? Are you joking?” I growl. “You lied to me, Sawyer.”

  He shakes his head. “I never lied. Never once,” he claims. “I just didn’t answer certain questions because I didn’t want to lie to you. I think as a lawyer, you can appreciate the difference.”

  “Don’t get cute with me,” I fire back. “Lying by omission is still a lie, and you know that.”

  “I wasn’t aware I was under oath.”

  I grit my teeth so hard; I’m half-afraid I’m going to crack them. My blood is boiling. There is a big part of me that wants to punch him square in the nose. That he can be so flippant and dismissive about all of this is well beyond infuriating.

  “You son of a bitch,” I whisper. “You are a son of a bitch.”

  “I know you’re upset –”

  “You’re goddamn right I am.”

  He sighs. “Look, I knew this was how you were going to react,” he says gently. “I was going to tell you the first night we went to dinner, but honestly, I was enjoying your company so much, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

  “You mean, you thought you had a chance to get me into bed and didn’t want to ruin it,” I snap.

  He shakes his head. “That’s not it, Berlin,” he snaps, his voice sizzling with heat. “Believe it or not, sleeping with you is pretty low on my list of priorities. In fact, this whole thing with me and you has absolutely zero to do with that.”

  I sit back in my seat, feeling like I just got slapped across the face. The stupid thing is, I don’t know why I feel like that. I mean, sleeping with Sawyer has always been a non-starter for me. But to hear him say he’s not even interested in sleeping with me hits me right in the ego. It’s silly and makes absolutely no sense, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting my pride just a bit.

  It would be simple for me to write it off as a case of him lying just to make himself look better. But I don’t necessarily think it would be true. When I look into his eyes, I see the heat of his anger. I see his earnestness – and his sincerity. It’s pretty shocking to me, but when he said he wasn’t interested in me for the sex – my bruised ego aside – it looks and sounds to me like he’s actually being honest.

  But still, that doesn’t mean he gets a pass for lying to me – by omission or otherwise.

  “Fine, whatever,” I stammer, trying to get my feet back under me. “That doesn’t change the fact that you had a chance to tell me that you’re the one trying to destroy the lives of the people at the Atwell, and you didn’t.”

  “I’m not trying to destroy anybody’s life, Berlin,” he says, dialing back some of the anger that had colored his voice before. “This is my business. My livelihood. If I didn’t take this project on, somebody else was going to –”

  “Oh, so it’s better to be screwed over by somebody you know than somebody you don’t,” I spit. “Thanks for that lesson.”

  He lets out a long breath, and I can see the frustration darkening his features. Sawyer is genuinely frustrated with me. Good. He can be as pissed as he wants to be – he doesn’t have the moral high ground here.

  “Berlin, you’re not being fair here,” he protests.

  “Fair? I’m not being fair?” I gasp, astounded by his cluelessness. “Sawyer, people like you are hurting people in this city. You’re destroying lives and everything that makes this city great.”

  He slams his open palm down on the table so hard, the crack of it echoes around the promenade. I can feel all the eyes turning our way – people do so love watching a good dumpster fire drama unfold. But the scrutiny is off-putting and uncomfortable, to say the least.

  Sawyer sits across from me, his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched tight, and his face dark with anger. I feel my pulse quicken. I don’t fear him. For all of his faults and flaws, one thing I am certain about when it comes to Sawyer is that he would never strike a woman. He just doesn’t have that in him. But he does cut a very imposing figure that would put a jolt into the stoutest of hearts.

  “It’s people like me – those of us who invest millions – that help this city grow and prosper, Berlin,” he growls, the deep bass of his voice rumbling through me. “Like it or not, people like me represent the lifeblood of this city – of this world. If it wasn’t for people like me, we’d still be in the Middle Ages.”

  I smirk. “I hate to break it to you Sawyer, but your narcissism and delusions of grandeur aren’t your best quality,” I sneer. “The world would find a way to get along without you just fine. It’s not like we need a world filled with these gaudy skyscrapers that are nothing more than monuments to your wealth and ego.”

  “Berlin, I –”

  “I’ll see you in court,” I spit. “I know you don’t like hearing the word no, but you better get used to it. The only way you’re getting the Atwell is over my dead body.”

  I get to my feet quickly and turn away, walking briskly across the promenade and away from him, my face burning with my anger and disgust. How could I have let myself think he’s a good man? How could I have let myself be suckered in by his charm? How could I have actually believed he’d grown and matured – that he wasn’t the same self-centered, egotistical asshole he was back in school?

  I’m an idiot. An absolute idiot and I let him play me. That’s how.

  Yeah well, I won’t be making that mistake again. Lesson learned.

  Chapter Ten

  Sawyer

  “She’s just so fucking idealistic and naïve,” I rant as I pace my office. “She’s got this Pollyanna view of how the world should be instead of a realistic view of how the world actually is.”

  Rider’s perched on the couch stationed in the sitting area in my office, saying nothing. He’s just watching me pace and listening to me rave. That’s one thing I like about Rider – he knows when to speak and when to just shut up and listen. I’ve been going on like this for damn near half an hour by now, and through it all, he’s just taken in everything I’ve said. But I know he’ll have
some thoughts for me when I’m done – whether I want to hear it or not.

  Although, I can’t deny that’s what a good friend does – they listen and then offer you the unvarnished and sometimes unflattering truth. And he’s always been a good friend like that. I may not like to hear it in the moment, but I always appreciate it. More times than not, his thoughts turn out to be correct.

  “Sounds like she’s really gotten under your skin,” he remarks, once I finally settle down.

  I stand in front of the glass that makes up the rear wall of my office and stare out at the view of Manhattan below. Normally it’s a view that brings me peace. It mellows me out when I need to take a breath and relax. But not today. Now, I look at the endless sprawl of high rises – luxury condos, office buildings, apartment buildings – and all I can hear is Berlin’s voice and her condemnations of ‘people like me’.

  “What gets me is she acts like we just roll around town, looking for people to victimize,” I grunt. “She acts like we’re bad guys, and like we’re ruining all of New York when all we’re trying to do is make it better.”

  “Well, from her point of view – and doing what she does – I can see why she’s upset,” Rider admits. “I mean, it’s not like any of the current residents of the Atwell will likely be able to afford the condos we’re planning on putting up.”

  “And how is that my fault?” I argue. “We’re not the ones who determine the housing market.”

  “No, all we’re doing from her perspective is cashing in,” he remarks. “And we’re choosing to pursue the high-end luxury market, therefore driving up prices from competitors and limiting the already-scarce housing stock in the city. So, she’s right.”

  I turn from the windows and face him, staring at Rider for a long moment. He doesn’t flinch, though. He just sits there and waits me out. Finally, I cross my office and drop down into one of the plush wingbacks that sit across the coffee table from the couch Rider is sitting on.

  “So what? We should just abandon all of our projects because some naïve idealist thinks we’re taking advantage of the poor?” I ask.

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” he responds. “I’m just giving you what her perspective is. And having come from a similar background to her, I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know you do,” I say and wave him off.

  I turn and look out the wall of windows again, doing my best to dissolve this thick thread of anger that’s been coiled tightly around my insides ever since my lunch with Berlin. My office sits on the thirty-eighth and top floor of the building. Thanks to my father’s smart planning, I now own the whole building, but Compass only takes up the top eight floors – the rest we lease out to other companies, which provides a very solid and steady stream of revenue.

  “Know what I think?” Rider asks.

  “I’ll assume you’re going to tell me regardless of what I say,” I grin.

  He flashes me a grin. “I think she’s so deep under your skin because you care about her even more than you’re comfortable admitting.”

  I sit back in the chair and laugh softly while Rider looks at me with an expression of confidence in his conclusion.

  “And is that your professional opinion, Dr. Phil?”

  He gives me a smirk. “It is, actually.”

  “Well, you’re not exactly going out on a limb here, Doc,” I chuckle. “Given that I already told you that I’m into her.”

  He shakes his head. “Being into her is one thing,” he says. “What I’m saying is that you care about her even more than you’re copping to.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He leans forward and clasps his hands, never taking his eyes off me. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’re head over heels for her,” he explains. “That what you feel isn’t just being into her, but something a lot deeper.”

  “Come on, man,” I say. “We’ve just barely reconnected. I think it’s a little too soon to be talking about love.”

  “Personally, I think you fell in love with her back in college. Or at least, you were starting to,” he says. “This just seems like a natural extension of emotions that are continuing to grow.”

  I laugh out loud. “You’re so full of shit.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  My laughter tapers off, and we’re left sitting there in silence. Rider stares at me with a look of smug assurance on his face.

  “Tell me something then,” he begins. “Normally, when you get caught up in a negotiation or some such, you handle it, and you’re done with it – and whoever you’re talking to. You lay it down, tell them how it’s going to go down, and that’s it. You’re done.”

  “And your point is – what?”

  He grins at me like he’s just about to call checkmate. “My point is that ever since you found out Berlin was tied up with the Atwell project, you have been bending over backwards to accommodate her – to avoid ruffling her feathers.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Is it?”

  “I have not bent over backwards –”

  “In any other case, you would work your contacts, squeeze whoever needed to be squeezed, and do what needed to be done to get a project on track. I’ve seen you do it a thousand times,” he continues. “But with Berlin, you’re delaying, backpedaling and –”

  “I am not backpedaling.”

  He arches an eyebrow at me, a grin quirking one corner of his mouth upward. “No? Then why did I receive a copy of a financial impact report on the Atwell? Maybe somebody in accounting or whatever was just curious about how delaying the project would impact Compass?” he questions. “Probably just a total coincidence – you know what a curious lot those bean counters are.”

  Grinning ruefully to myself, I get to my feet and clasp my hands behind my back as I begin pacing back and forth in front of the window wall again. I’m agitated – mostly because despite my protests, I can’t entirely dismiss what Rider is saying out of hand. I’d like to, but I can’t. To do so would be breaking one of my most cardinal rules – to never lie to myself.

  I don’t like lying at all, but I’m realistic enough to know there are sometimes you need to shade the truth now and again – or leave things out – to keep things moving in a forward direction. But one thing I vowed to never do – something my father had ingrained in me from a young age – was to never deceive myself. He told me if I start lying to myself, I might as well shutter the company because that will lead me to make some very bad decisions based on emotion, rather than on logic and intelligence.

  So, after listening to Rider and taking an unflinching look at myself in the mirror, I can’t entirely dismiss what he’s saying. At the same time, though, I don’t have to agree with every syllable that falls out of his mouth.

  Am I attracted to her? Absolutely. Do I feel something on a deeper level for Berlin? Yes. I acknowledge I’m interested in her for far more than just sex. She’s so different from any woman I’ve ever known or been involved with. I’d go so far as to say there is something special about her. But that’s a far cry from being in love with her, as Rider is suggesting.

  “I’m not judging you, man,” Rider says. “I’m not even saying this is a negative thing.”

  “No? Then what are you saying?”

  He shrugs. “I’m just giving you some food for thought.”

  I stop pacing and slide my hands into my pockets as I turn to look at him. A thousand different thoughts are firing through my head, but none of them make any sense to me whatsoever. It’s confounding me simply because my thinking is always so clear, and I’m always sure of myself.

  Ever since Berlin found her way back into my life, though, my thoughts have been anything but clear. I’ve never experienced the sort of uncertainty I have around her, nor have I second guessed myself as often as I have recently.

  “Food for thought, huh?”

  He nods. “Look, how long have I been telling you that you nee
d somebody in your life?”

  I chuckle. “How long have I known you?”

  “Exactly. And finally, you have somebody you really connect with,” he continues.

  “Yeah, except for the fact that she now despises me,” I note wryly.

  “That’s a situation you have the power to turn around,” he informs me. “That’s something you have some measure of control over.”

  My snort of laughter is sharp. “A very small measure. Berlin is a very headstrong woman,” I correct him. “She’s fiercely independent.”

  “But she’s also got a very good heart and caring nature,” he responds. “She’s kind and forgiving.”

  “Well, you seem to be quite the expert on Berlin,” I chuckle.

  He shrugs. “It’s not like she’s a complete stranger to me,” he grins. “Let’s also not forget that I am a brilliantly keen observer of humanity.”

  “Oh right, let’s not forget that.”

  “Talk to her. Try to smooth things out,” he urges me. “I think if you don’t at the very least try to fix this, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”

  I scoff and wave him off, although there’s a big piece of me that wants to do nothing more than that. I just don’t think Berlin would appreciate me showing up at her office again. Not after what happened the last time I saw her.

  But he’s right. I shouldn’t just let this go by the boards. I don’t know exactly what this is I feel for her – nor how to define that spark and chemistry that exists between us – but it’s not something I should give up on so easily. There is something that exists between us – I know Berlin feels it too – and I think we’d be doing ourselves a terrible disservice to not at least explore it with each other.

  I look over to Rider and nod. “I’m going to need your help.”

  Chapter Eleven