The Boss Vol. 4: a Billionaire Serial

by Quinn, Cari

  Bastard is as bastard does.

  “Yes.” I didn’t flinch. “My father screwed the help and tossed them aside without compunction. Guess I’m the same. Only difference is I don’t go around indiscriminately making babies.” I patted her leg and stood as the bell rang. “Be glad your birth control situation is in fine working order.”

  She didn’t speak again until I was halfway to the front door. “If you don’t give me my job back, I’ll go to Jack.”

  Fury wound through me in a flash, incinerating everything in its path. That she would toss my best friend’s name in my face rankled more than anything else, especially when I still carried his cuff link in my pocket. I didn’t want to forget, not even for a second. He was presumed to be innocent before being proven guilty, but his guilt was definitely up for debate.

  I pivoted to face her and waited to speak until I was certain my voice would reflect nothing but pure ice. “Jack doesn’t make the hiring decisions in my company. I do.”

  “He does for his own assistants.”

  Had I thought I was furious before? No, not even close. The idea that Jack had been talking to Grace behind my back, obviously trying to woo her—in a professional manner if not any other—made me shove a hand through my hair. Fuck tells. Relatively speaking, I was keeping it together since I wanted to plow my fist through the nearest wall.

  “He has an assistant.” I moved closer to loom over her where she still sat on the coffee table, easy as pie. Not threatened by me in the least. To her, I was just a declawed kitten who would roll over with just the right stroke.

  Like hell.

  “And who the hell are you to try to scheme your way into my company? I fired you. That wasn’t a love note. It was a permanent decision. You’ll stay out until I deem otherwise. Right now? Not deeming.”

  The bell chimed again, and she glanced pointedly over my shoulder, not appearing ruffled in the slightest. “You just said right now you weren’t deeming. Permanent, my ass.” She rose, sliding her body against mine as she gained her feet. “You want to waste time, go right ahead. I can always find another job. Jack said—”

  “Stay away from Jack. I mean it.”

  She crossed her arms, her body still pressed close. In another second, we’d be nose to nose again. “Jealous much?”

  “I’m not fucking jealous, Grace. I just don’t know what he’s up to. If he’s up to anything.” There I went again with the diarrhea of the mouth in her direction. I might as well show her my goddamn nonexistent diary. Maybe I should start keeping one, if it would mean I could keep my trap shut around her.

  “What he’s up to? Is that a euphemism?”

  “Don’t push me right now. There are things you don’t know.”

  “Color me stunned. What I do know is Jack has been a friend to me. I need a job, and it turns out that I have a talent for the administrative arts. Who would’ve thunk it?”

  “You were paid for the angel. You have enough money to take care of your bills for a while. And your lodging.”

  If she got my point, she didn’t show it. “You better get the door. It’s not nice to keep someone waiting while you try to lord it over me.”

  “Oh, I’m not lording yet. You’ll know when I am. Consider it friendly advice.” I gave her a dismissive glance. “Go get dressed.”

  “Sure thing. I’m having lunch with…” She trailed off and shot me a sunny smile. “A friend. Wouldn’t do to be the next thing to naked, would it?” She reached out and adjusted my tie, as she was wont to do. But it didn’t feel like an affectionate gesture so much as a demonstration of who’d won this round. “Have a good day, dear.”

  I went to the door and opened it to a delivery person from Grace’s gallery. The woman smiled and chatted and complimented me on my “exquisite taste” as she set the carefully wrapped angel on a nearby end table. I answered by rote, my attention firmly on picturing Grace dressing for a meeting with a man I didn’t know if I could trust. I definitely wasn’t sure I could trust him with her. She was the most precious—

  Christ. Even my thoughts were betraying me now.

  How long had she and Jack been meeting like this? I hated that I was suspecting everyone around me of turning Judas, but how could I not? When you were a liar yourself, it wasn’t unreasonable to expect others to lie to you. There was no forgetting that cuff link, and no guarantee that a simple conversation with Jack would clear everything up. I didn’t see how it could. So I would wait. And watch.

  That included watching the woman who’d just mindfucked me into next Tuesday.

  “Have a good day, sir,” the woman said, stepping out and leaving me snarling at the angel I now wanted nothing more than to smash. It was too gorgeous, more so because it wasn’t perfect. The piece depicted a beautiful woman falling from grace, and her tarnish only increased her desirability.

  Last night, I’d thought it was particularly fitting. I wasn’t female, and I certainly was no angel. But I’d seen something of myself in the piece. That choice to go right or left, to decide to do good or…not.

  Now I was wondering if there was more than one fallen angel in my life.

  In my house.

  In my bed.

  Five

  Grace and I avoided each other for the rest of the weekend. I spoke to the police; she went to her private lunch with my CEO. She sequestered herself upstairs; I spent more time on the first level than I had since I’d owned the house. Work, as always, was my salvation. I also went for several runs. Turns out I couldn’t run far enough to evade the thoughts dogging my heels. Memories of Grace opened to me as I rammed into her, her pale skin marked from my tie. Her blond hair bouncing over her shoulders as she chased her own pleasure so shamelessly.

  The way she’d held me over a barrel in my own house and tried to demand I rehire her.

  I might’ve been blinded by lust at times, but even I could see that her behavior since the break-in had been odd. I’d deliberately insulted our affair and indicated I liked to bang people in my employ for sport. Yet she’d stuck around. If that wasn’t enough, she wanted to work for me again. I’d driven her crazy when she’d been my assistant, and she hadn’t truly wanted the position anyway. She’d admitted that herself. It had all just been part of her attempt to somehow finagle a way to get her house back. But that was all on the table, and she was still angling.

  Now she was in seclusion, behind my own walls.

  It was too much. I couldn’t sleep with her there. Never mind the fact she’d driven me out of my own bedroom, though I didn’t know where she was even sleeping in the house. I’d couched it last night, and probably would again tonight. It was bad enough risking seeing her in the bathroom or the kitchen. The place was large enough that we didn’t bump into each other all that much, but it still took effort to stay out of her realm.

  For fuck’s sake, it was my home. Even if it had never been in the strict usage of the word, my name was still on the deed. She’d taken it over like she had Annabelle’s house. Wanting to keep an eye on her to reassure myself she was safe could only go so far. Us being in the same space wasn’t healthy. We were too angry and frustrated with each other.

  And if I saw her in that kimono again, I was going to bend her over the nearest surface and fuck her until she couldn’t move.

  I circled the corner of my street, after having run through my development approximately sixteen times in a vain attempt to try to work off some of my energy. Evidently, it hadn’t worked, since the sight of my mother’s car in my driveway set me off. It was parked behind Grace’s car, which was also new. She’d obviously had some help to retrieve it from the Marblehead house. She hadn’t asked me to drive her over there, so maybe her good buddy Jack had helped her out.

  She must’ve told him that she was staying with me. Strange I hadn’t gotten a call. Unless he didn’t want to bring up any potentially problematic subjects.

  Such as the reason she was in my house in the first place. Guns and blood and break-ins and
all, her illegal squatting in the Marblehead house notwithstanding.

  And I still had to deal with my mother and her boy toy.

  They weren’t outside, so I had to assume Grace had let them in. Why not? She was playing house anyway. Might as well cozy up to my parental unit and her con artist boyfriend while she was it, right?

  I entered the house to the sound of music and laughter. Someone was cooking. The smell of bacon permeated the air, and I followed my growling stomach to the kitchen where my mother and Brant were seated at the granite counter. Grace was stationed in front of the stove, wearing an apron and deftly wielding a spatula as she flipped bacon.

  “You can cook?”

  Grace glanced at me, her smile faltering. I hated that I did that to her. Jack made her light up like a damn marquee. Me, I caused her to dim faster than pulling a plug.

  “A little. I can make BLTs.” She nodded at the pan in front of her, and the one on the other burner that contained thick slabs of sourdough bread soaked in butter. “These are probably the closest thing to a heart attack on a plate, but eh, only live once, right?”

  “Not according to Sebastian,” I muttered, bristling as my mother shot off her stool and hurried over to give me a kiss. She was about a foot shorter than me and had to yank me down to get the job done, but she made up for height with enthusiasm. “Mother.” I glanced past her to the man at the counter. “Brant. You finally found someone to make you a meal while you’re under my roof. Fortunate for you.”

  An awkward silence descended. Something I was exceptionally good at causing. I’d call it a skill, if I hadn’t felt the most awkward of all.

  I didn’t do family scenes. Not even stilted, fucked-up ones like this.

  “We decided to surprise you.” My mother gripped my wrist, and in her hold was a warning. She expected me to play the role of doting son for her new man of the month. We rarely saw each other, so I could do that much. Except I was playing entirely too much lately, and I was on the verge of dropping my veneer of civility entirely.

  In every direction.

  I flashed a grim smile. “Surprise.”

  “We were the ones surprised. Why didn’t you tell us you had a girlfriend?” My mother bustled over to Grace’s side and hugged her like they were old friends. “Such a beautiful and sweet one, no less.”

  Oh hell no.

  Grace frowned and set down her spatula. “I didn’t—”

  “Grace is most certainly beautiful and sweet, but she is not my girlfriend. I haven’t had one of those since ninth grade. When it comes to women, I have friends and I have lovers. I also have exes of both.”

  Brant chuckled and shifted on his stool, opening the button on his sport coat. “Well, now, son, don’t sugarcoat it for us.”

  “I’m not your son. I believe I told you that once already.” I glanced toward the stove and glimpsed Grace’s wounded eyes before she turned her head and picked up the spatula again. Regret burned through my stomach lining like acid. “I’m going to go take a shower. I’ll—” My eyes sharpened on Brant’s shoulder, and the extra bulk under his sport coat. “What’s that?”

  He stared at me for a moment without moving. Then he gave me an easy smile and patted his shoulder, wincing a bit as he did so. “Oh, this old thing? Just a recurring football injury. I’m not as young as I used to be and it doesn’t take much to aggravate my aches and pains. So that means a weekend with a hot patch.” His smile turned pinched at the corners. “Rather embarrassing really, but they do the job.”

  I moved closer, my smile as easy as his as I leaned on the counter. “That must be some pad. It looks awfully thick. I didn’t realize they made them that way.”

  “Gotta have the right connections.” He winked at me and I swear, it was a miracle I didn’t haul off and punch him right in the mouth.

  He’d need a whole new covering soon enough if my suspicions were even close to right. And this one would zip up and encompass his whole body.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told them before heading upstairs. I needed some cold water to cool me down—quick.

  I also needed to develop a strategy. There were entirely too many loose ends right now, and it was time to start tying some off.

  What better way to accomplish that then to Agatha Christie the shit out of this situation and get all the possible suspects in one room?

  Some weren’t suspects exactly, just warranted more observation. Like Grace. I didn’t believe she was up to anything nefarious necessarily, but I knew she had some kind of plan spinning around in her head. She wasn’t in such a hurry to couple up with any jackass who treated her like crap that she would suddenly overlook every rude thing I tossed her way. But something was going on. So much more lived beneath the surface with her than it seemed at first glance.

  That appeared to be the case with just about everyone lately. I was beginning to feel like I needed a playbook of who’d possibly done what just to get through my daily routine.

  When I returned downstairs, our early dinner had been served and everyone was digging in. Too bad I’d lost my appetite.

  “This looks wonderful, Grace.” I picked up my sandwich only to discover the extra pickle spears she’d tucked to the side. She’d remembered. My smile turned genuine for a moment. I had to take bright spots wherever they came, no matter how small. “Thank you.”

  She blinked and set down her own sandwich. She’d barely touched it so far. “You’re welcome.”

  After about an hour of relatively pleasant small talk, Brant started making noises about being exhausted from his “long hours in the salt mines.” Insert laugh track. It was a miracle I managed to remain seated when all I wanted to do was to strip off his coat and get a look at his supposed football injury. I’d just fucking bet.

  “Then you should go home and rest. Wouldn’t want to have to give less than your all on the job tomorrow.” I grinded my teeth together until I risked shattering a crown. “But before you go, I’d like to extend an invitation to my party next weekend. It’ll be small, rather intimate. Just all the important people in my life, some good food and music, maybe some dancing.”

  I caught Grace’s eye for an instant and nearly smiled for real at her suspicious expression. She wasn’t falling for my cordial act in the least.

  “Oh Blake, that sounds lovely.” My mother clasped her hands together and returned my smile. “We’d love to come. Wouldn’t we, Brant?”

  With effort, I shoved down the guilt. She didn’t realize what was afoot. That was the problem with her. She never did. She was so completely guileless that she would hand her wallet to a thief without blinking an eyelash. She practically had a target on her back for all the con artists of the world.

  Like the bastard seated to my left.

  “Depending which day it is and the time. I’ve been putting in lots of late hours on the job lately. Unfortunately, that cuts most of my evenings short.”

  “Is that so? Doing well for yourself, are you? What is it exactly that you do, Brant?”

  “Oh, consulting work mostly. Some hands-on when necessary.” He gave me a toothy smile. “I’m no Blake Carson, but I get by.”

  Under the lip of the counter, I fisted my hands. “I just bet you do.” I tried another smile. “Well, this evening will be as late as you’d like to make it. If it doesn’t suit you to stay long, then just come by long enough to eat and spin my mom around a few times.”

  “You called me mom.” I glanced up from retrieving the last corner of bacon on my plate, startled by the pleasure in my mother’s voice. It matched the soft expression on her face. “It’s been such a long time since you have, Blake.”

  Grace saved me by reaching over to pat my mother’s hand. “Mothers and sons have such special relationships, don’t they? My grandmother doted on my Uncle Connor. He passed away some years back, but they were so close.”

  My throat tightened as I pulled the napkin off my lap. Grace truly was all alone in this world.

  Just like me. Oh
, maybe not technically. My mother was still here, but the raft of space between us was large enough to be an ocean. She trusted indiscriminately, and I could never abide by that. Not after the way we’d both been harmed by her naiveté.

  So I trusted no one. No matter how much I wished I could.

  My mother gave Grace a sad smile. “Blake and I were very close. Once. Many moons ago.”

  “Sounds like a chance for new beginnings all around then,” Grace said quietly, sliding me a look that cut deeper than even my regret over my mother.

  I didn’t know what those words even meant. There was no beginning without trust. I didn’t even deem myself worthy of it, so how could I demand total honesty from others?

  But I did. Oh, I did.

  “We’ll be there. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Brant rose and set aside his napkin. “Thank you for the wonderful meal, Grace. Your culinary skills are to die for.”

  Something about the phrase set my teeth on edge. I stood too and gave him a smile of my own. “Lots of things worth dying for, aren’t there?”

  Instead of seeming taken aback, he just tipped his head at me and reached for my mother. “Hate to eat and run, but we have to get on. So nice to meet you, Grace. I hope Blake keeps you around. He could use having a softer touch around here.”

  Grace smiled tightly. “He could use something.” She turned to my mother and gave her a quick hug. “I’m so glad I met you, Mrs. Carson.”

  “Me too. You’re just so perfect for my Blake.” My mother cupped Grace’s cheeks before releasing her and giving me a stern look. “Don’t scare her away.”

  I moved to her and gave her a hug of my own. It was harder and longer than usual. It was difficult to let her go, and it wasn’t a puzzle to decipher why. I couldn’t stand that she was leaving with a man I had serious doubts about, in more ways than one. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll see you next weekend.”

  “You will.” She kissed my forehead, and then they were gone.