Tempted: A Standalone Billionaire Boss Romance

by Ava Harrison

  “But I miss you.”

  Nothing about hanging with Jet and his friends sounds appealing right now. I won’t let my guard down, but I actually smile because I truly feel in control for the first time ever where Jet is concerned.

  “Nah, sorry, Jet. My boss is strict. He’s very protective of who he allows into his club. If I let you in, and you’re not on the list, I could get fired.”

  “Come on, Bae. You owe me.” His voice cuts through me like a knife.

  “No, Jet. It’s not happening. Stay away from Silver.”

  Without another word, I turn and head toward my place. I’m walking slower than normal as a million thoughts run through my head. The strength I just showed with Jet. The way I just turned my back to him and drowned out the insults he hurled at my back.

  I look at my phone to see what time it is, and I notice a missed text from Harper from earlier in the night. I’m nervous to read it.

  Harper: I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. I was just hurt that you were keeping stuff from me. I just want you to know I’m proud of you for already being promoted and no longer waitressing. I just want you to be okay.

  Harper finally texting feels more like a punch to the gut. She’s finally come around to the idea of me working for Drew in a different capacity—proud even—and here I am, contemplating a way out. All because I gave in and gave him my body.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  Typical irresponsible Bailey at her finest. I cringe at the low point I find myself in. I’ve come so damn far only to crush it with one slip with Drew. Then add to it the unwanted run-in with Jet, and I know what I need to do.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my old sponsor’s card that I keep in my wallet in case of an emergency and dial quickly, hoping he’s still awake.

  Ring.

  Ring.

  Ring.

  “Hello,” Jeff says, and it’s quickly followed by a yawn.

  “Hey, Jeff, it’s me, Bailey. I’m so sorry for waking you.”

  “It’s okay. I was just falling asleep. What’s going on? I haven’t heard from you since you moved to New York.”

  “I’m freaking out.”

  “What happened?” he quizzes.

  “I-I fucked up.”

  “Shh. Breathe, Bailey. How did you fuck up?” I stay silent even though I called him for help. “Talk to me.”

  “I did something stupid. Okay, I did a lot of stupid, actually.”

  “Start from the beginning.”

  “I got a job at a nightclub.” I cringe as I say it, knowing what he must be thinking.

  Idiot.

  “Bailey, you know that’s not okay for you. That has trigger written all over it. Why’d you put yourself in a situation with that much temptation? What else happened to set you off?”

  “It was a bad move, but I had no choice. I was about to get evicted, and there were no other options for me. But I already got promoted and won’t be working in the actual club anymore,” I try to explain.

  “All right, so the promotion is good. What else happened?”

  “I slept with my boss,” I spit out, knowing he can’t help if I don’t come clean.

  He blows out a harsh breath. “That’s not healthy, Bailey. Addictions come in different forms.”

  “I know, Jeff, and I’ve been handling things. I know it’s not the preferred way, but it’s the only way that works for me,” I say defensively. “I haven’t slept with anyone since I stopped taking the pills.”

  “If you feel like this is different, why are you calling me?”

  “I bumped into Jet.”

  “Bailey, don’t let your past control you. You’ve done so well. I’m proud of you.”

  His scripted reply makes me cringe. “I know all of this, Jeff. What should I do?”

  He sighs. “First things first, prioritize you. You need this job, right?”

  “Yeah,” I admit.

  “Then don’t let one mistake take that away from you. You set boundaries, and if your boss can’t honor them, you find another job.”

  “He might allow me to keep working at the club so I’m not working one on one with him.”

  He sighs. “You haven’t been sober long enough for that. Two years might seem like a long time, but if you’re constantly tempted with issues, you could fall backward. Baby steps, Bailey.”

  He’s right, and I know it. “You’re right. I won’t go backward.”

  “Remember, you can do this,” he coaches.

  “Thank you. I’m going to let you get back to sleep. I’m sorry for waking you again.”

  “I’m always here for you. Remember that.”

  “I will. Thanks again. Good night,” I say as I hang up the phone. I finally let out the breath I was holding, and my shoulders slouch forward as the feeling of dread passes. Tomorrow, I will set boundaries.

  No more temptation.

  No more Drew.

  Once I get back home, I throw myself into bed, hoping to forget the events of tonight. Sleep comes easier than I thought it would.

  26

  Bailey

  I wake the next morning with a new resolve. No more distractions. This job is my lifeline, and I can’t allow anything to get in my way. After bailing on work last night, I’m sure some groveling will need to take place. I’m prepared.

  Calling isn’t the mature way to handle this, and I don’t want to be unprofessional. I need to face Drew and secure my position as the project manager. It’s time we discuss business.

  I walk in and square my shoulders. Standing extra tall, I see Drew standing by the bar in front of the register. Does this man ever look bad? Focus, Bailey.

  “Drew, can we talk?”

  He looks up and nods toward his office upstairs. Without another word, I take off with him following close. When the door shuts, he doesn’t make a move to come near me, and I appreciate it.

  “About yesterday . . .” I pause for him to interrupt or say something, but he doesn’t. He waits for me to continue. “What happened between us shouldn’t have. I’m not blaming you because I wanted it, but I really need this job. I can’t have sex getting in the way of that.”

  He purses his lips but remains quiet.

  “I left because I didn’t know how to handle what we’d just done. I was embarrassed. I felt . . . cheap.”

  He blanches as he pops one fist on his hip and runs his other hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Bailey. I never wanted to make you feel cheap.”

  “It wasn’t you. It was the way I acted. It . . . it reminded me of my past,” I admit, lowering my gaze to the floor.

  He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. He grits his teeth. “I don’t know who’s hurt you in your past, but I’m not them, Bailey. What happened here yesterday was two consenting adults. Nothing cheap about it.”

  “Like I said, it wasn’t you who made me feel that way,” I say, getting flustered. “But that’s beside the point. What matters here is that we need to be professional moving forward. I need this job.”

  “And as I said, I didn’t offer you the job with any expectations of sex. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want it to happen again, Bailey. But I understand where you’re coming from. You want professional? I’ll treat you like every other girl who works for Silver.”

  I wince at his harsh tone. If he’s going to go from hot to cold over my insistence of professionalism, then how the hell is this going to work?

  His hard stare evaporates, and he rubs at his temples. “The job is still yours. What happened yesterday doesn’t impact that at all. If you want a strictly business relationship, I’ll respect that.”

  My shoulders relax at those words. “Thank you. I appreciate the opportunity, and I just don’t want to do anything to make you change your mind.”

  “Do a good job, and you have nothing to worry about,” he says.

  I nod. “I intend to.”

  “The club’s going to be opening soon, but I have some pa
perwork for you.” He motions to the chair. “Take a seat.”

  I do as I’m instructed as he walks around, taking a seat across from me at his large desk. He pulls out a folder from the drawer on his right and sets it on the top, sliding it toward me.

  “All the paperwork you need to fill out is in there. That would be the first step,” he explains. “The acquisition hasn’t been completed yet, so until we’re able to get into the site, I’d like you to begin shadowing everyone here at the club.”

  He starts up his computer and pecks away at the keys before moving on to the next topic.

  “Although the restaurants will run differently, a lot of these positions will correlate. You’ll need to know how the waitstaff works with the kitchen and how the kitchen works with the bar. Find the problem areas and start thinking about ways to fix them. Ask the staff for suggestions.”

  I pull up my notes in my phone and make a list of things to do.

  “As soon as the sale is complete, our next step will be the hiring process. I have a stack of resumes over in that corner,” he says, motioning to an enormous stack. “I’ll need you to go through them and begin conducting interviews. You’ll want to bring Carter in on that since he’ll be managing Le Blanc.”

  “Has he been replaced here?”

  “Not yet. I’m working that out this week,” he says flippantly, like he has no interest in talking to me about anything more. “Take the paperwork and head home. You can drop it off tomorrow around three and plan to shadow Carter tomorrow night.”

  I bite my lower lip, trying to rein in my temper. He’s been so cold since I voiced my demands. What do you expect? I have to get over it. I can’t have my cake and eat it too. It’ll take a bit for this awkwardness to subside. I chose this, so I need to be okay with the small—and hopefully temporary—fallout.

  I pull the file toward me and stand. “Thank you, Drew. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I make it three steps before he stops me. “Bailey.”

  I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. “Don’t run out on me again. If we’re going to work together closely, we need to be honest with each other, and running away isn’t how we’re going to handle things.”

  My body pivots to look him head-on.

  “No more running,” I agree.

  Now if we can get back to normal, that would be great too. Though things were never normal between us.

  27

  Drew

  This night won’t end. I have a headache from hell, and Bailey is just about to send me over the edge. She strolled in this afternoon all pissed off, ready for a fight. Not only did she demand that things stay professional between us, but she also compared our moment to one from her past. One she clearly doesn’t want to remember.

  I know a little about her past. I know about the accident, but what I don’t know is what happened after that.

  From what I gathered, nothing good.

  My stomach tightens at the implication.

  I don’t know how to feel about the thoughts running through my head right now.

  Guilt that I made her feel that way. Sadness for the past I don’t even know the half off.

  I can’t deal with the things I’m thinking, so I do what any grown man would do.

  I avoid her like the plague by sending her home.

  I’m making my rounds in the VIP rooms, rubbing elbows with the high rolling regulars. I grew up with a lot of these people in New York high society. A bunch of spoiled-ass pricks. Not that I have room to talk. The only difference between them and me is I actually like to work for my money. These guys live off their cushy trusts.

  Take Edward Wright. His dad is worth hundreds of millions. He started some direct sales company that peddles smoothies. Now you see them sold in malls and kiosks all over the United States. Eddie was a sophomore in college when Daddy hit it big. He immediately dropped his business degree and took up residence on the family yacht. He’s done literally nothing with his life since.

  The second room contains a pop princess and an NBA basketball bench warmer. They were all cozied up. Since the paps aren’t allowed in my club, Ms. Bubblegum probably brought her second-rate ballplayer here so nobody knows she’s slumming it.

  I approach Reese’s room for the night. The curtains are drawn, so I decide against stopping in. God only knows what I’d walk in on. As I pass, I hear some girl hacking up a lung. I pull back the curtain to see if she’s all right, and the scene that unfolds in front of me renders me speechless.

  Reese is bent over the table snorting lines. I’m immediately transported to another time. One I’ve tried to forget every day for the last two years.

  “Drew, come play with me,” Alexa calls to me from the other room. Her whiny drawl grates on my nerves. I’m drunk and don’t want to deal with her. “Do you have any blow?” The girl is out of her mind. I’m fucked beyond belief, but even I know my limits.

  “Alexa, I’m out.”

  “But—”

  “No.” I know she won’t let this drop, so I reach in my pocket and throw her the little baggy I bought but haven’t opened yet. “Here. Take it. I need to sleep sometime tonight.” I can hear her sigh in resignation.

  “You’re no fun.”

  I should tell her to come to bed with me. I should insist that she does. But instead, I watch her take the bag I gave her and throw some on the table. I walk around the corner in time to see her take a bump.

  I shake myself back to the present. “What the fuck!” I scream, trembling from being so fucking pissed. “What did I tell you last time?”

  Reese slowly looks up, completely unfazed by my outburst. “Lighten up, man. Nobody saw us,” Reese says with a lazy smile. I want to beat the fuck out of him.

  “You’re fucking kidding me. We have been over this a million times. Come on. What the hell would Alexa say if she were here?”

  His face goes pale at the mention of Alexa, and his eyes narrow on me.

  “You’re one to talk,” he snaps back, and I take a step closer, making him crane his neck to see me better.

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “You act all high and mighty. But don’t forget I was there. You gave her those drugs . . .”

  The drugs that killed her.

  The drugs that hurt so many people.

  It’s all my fault.

  It feels like a knife is stabbing me in the heart. Then twisting slowly to inflict the most pain.

  The day she died will always be burned into my brain. I can’t escape it because it was my fault.

  “Fuck you, Lawson. You didn’t even give a flying fuck about her.” His words are slurred and barely understandable. “And if you’re not careful, I’ll make sure everyone knows your part in her death.”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” I look at the chick next to him. “Do you want to die?”

  She looks at me without a care in her miserable world. “It was only one line,” she slurs out.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” I say to the skank. She grabs her jacket and scurries out. I turn back to Reese. “Clean yourself up, Reese. Go home.” He doesn’t move. “Now!”

  He just stares at me, and I continue to glare at him. He finally gets the hint that I’m not changing my mind on this.

  “All right, I’m out. Fuck this place.” He walks out, barreling into my shoulder on his way. “And fuck you.”

  I go to work cleaning up their shit. I can’t have anyone else seeing this because I’ve done my best to rid my life of drugs. This club was reinvented after Alexa’s death. I fired the staff who notoriously sold the contraband, made it increasingly harder to get in, and renamed the club Silver after Alexa Silver as a constant reminder.

  In a rage, my hands swipe over the table, knocking everything to the floor. With all the force I can conjure, I throw the table over.

  “Fuck!”

  Slamming my fists into the wall of the room, I finally calm myself down, focusing on brea
thing. This whole night has me in a tailspin—first Bailey and now the reminder of Alexa. I’m not sure what has me angrier.

  I’m just calming down when Carter comes barreling in. “What the fuck, man? I just got a complaint from room four that there was banging on the wall and shouting. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle. Get back to the bar.” I don’t give him a chance to speak. I turn and leave the room, desperate to escape to the safety of my office.

  I can’t deal with one more thing tonight.

  28

  Bailey

  A few days pass and Drew is missing in action. I’ve been working with Carter all night, taking notes on ways we can run the bar at the new restaurant once it opens. I have to admit, bartending seems fun. Carter is having a blast, and although I’m standing back and watching, I’m having fun watching him.

  The night has practically flown by. I haven’t even caught sight of Drew, and I have to admit, I’m thankful for that. I’m trying very hard to stick to my own demands.

  Spoke too soon.

  Not even a moment after I’d thought about not seeing him, he’s walking through the door with some beautiful model on his arm. The woman is at least five nine and has on a short cocktail dress that shows off her killer legs. Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe her.

  “Huh. That’s . . . interesting,” Carter mutters from next to me.

  “What’s interesting?”

  “Drew broke things off with Juliette months ago. I wonder when that started back up.”

  A glass slips from my hands and breaks at the mention of this having been a former Drew fling. So what? He screws me and moves on all in a matter of days? Why should I care? I’m the one who made the decision. I can’t be mad. Right? Right.

  I’m pissed.

  I understand I’m not a model, but to flaunt your next fling in my face seems a bit ridiculous. Callous. Bastard.

  This is exactly what Harper warned me about. It’s my own damn fault I didn’t listen.