Falling For Her Bad Boy Boss (Island Girls: 3 Sisters In Mauritius)

by Zee Monodee

So, did she strive for her clean slate, or did she give herself and everything she’d believed in up for a man’s addictive touch?

  Back at Square One—she no longer knew where she stood, and this more than anything, made her turn over until her face lay buried in a pillow, and cry.

  She had to be strong, but what did she do when her very strength came from the one thing she should avoid at all costs?

  How did one do the right thing, then?

  Chapter Fourteen

  How did she find the courage to go to the station that day? Neha had no idea how she picked up the pieces of her shattered life and got on with whatever she had to do. Doing the right thing would amount to sticking to her side of the deal, do her job at least for the day. Everything else … well, she’d consider it in due time.

  She met the children when they came back from school. The previous night, she had told them about their father, how the page could finally be turned. He’d always remain in their memory, but they knew now that he was gone, no hope left that he may be back one day.

  Today, she’d waited with baited breath for them to get home. During the morning, preoccupied with her impending meeting with Logan, she hadn’t been able to gauge their state of mind when they’d left. To her relief, nothing seemed out of the ordinary as the three trudged in upon a slew of complaints about their ‘killing’ amount of homework.

  Youth. How could they move on and forward so easily?

  Could they maybe teach her how to achieve this? She needed their carefree attitude, this belief that whatever happened was meant to happen, and you’d be losing your time and energy remaining stuck on the past. The future beckoned, and it’s what mattered.

  Her future looked bleak, though. After the last encounter with Logan, she couldn’t hide from the truth. If he weren’t part of her life, no other man would be able to take his place.

  Him, or empty.

  And the way things went, she’d bet on the ‘empty’ more than anything.

  His cold contempt slapped her in the face when she entered the station. His penetrating gaze made her think of the first time he had looked at her. He didn’t bring up anything about what had taken place between them.

  Cold, lethal, curtly professional—such proved the man she encountered that afternoon.

  The dismissal couldn’t have hit her harder. If his attitude had been meant to hurt her, then he’d succeeded.

  He became a stranger to her as they went over the news bulletin together. In front of the cameras, he turned on the charm, but she heard the ice underneath his words whenever he addressed her. She wondered if everyone else noticed, too, how he went out of his way to be brisk and cool with her. The debriefing rolled into an agonizing affair and seemed to her like the longest hour of her whole existence. In the closed confines of his office, in those premises where they had become one so often, nothing hovered between them but feelings of loss and betrayal.

  How could she feel betrayed by his manner? She had wanted him out of her life, had done everything she could to push him away from her. Still, she hadn’t counted on the fact that she dealt with Logan, not any other man. He had a knack for turning the table on someone, and he had done exactly this to her.

  When earlier, she had felt completely in the right to want a new beginning, he had made her confront the simple fact that he existed as an inherent part of her life, and she couldn’t excise him and everything he’d meant to her as easily as she wished. With something akin to a snap of his fingers, he’d showed her how she walked a tight line and how one could never go back. The past forged you into who you became, and her past shaped her as the woman who had hurt him in the worst manner when she’d thought of nothing but herself.

  Right? How about being totally wrong? And the worst was how she couldn’t go back.

  As they stood after the debriefing, Neha plucked up her courage. She had to do what she had to do—talk to him.

  “Logan, wait,” she said as he moved away.

  He stilled, but didn’t glance in her direction. Drat, he wouldn’t make this easy for her.

  And he is right in doing so.

  “About what happened. Do you want to—” She stopped when he turned fiery eyes upon her. “Talk?” she concluded in a small whisper dying down somewhere on her tongue.

  He remained silent for a long time, his gaze not leaving her, making her squirm and fidget as she waited for his answer.

  Blast it, he had said this wasn’t over, and that they needed to talk. What more of an invitation did he want from her?

  “No,” he finally said.

  She shook from the word. Even though it had been uttered in a quietly soft way, the force of the blow behind the two letters hit her like a slap to the face.

  “Please,” she asked with a begging note.

  He settled back into his chair, propping the back of his head against the headrest in a deceptively casual pose.

  Neha remained standing, all too aware of the power relation at play between them.

  Is my complete surrender what you want? she yearned to ask, but didn’t have the courage to utter right then.

  Then take it.

  The thought flittered through her mind, making her reel inwardly at the total submission she found herself willing to give this man.

  “I’m not letting you go,” he said, shattering through the silence and the riot of thoughts in her head.

  She gasped, waiting for him to continue. What did he mean by this? Would he put her through a trial by fire because of what she’d said to him earlier?

  He leaned forward, until his forearms lay flat on the glass expanse of the desk.

  “As per the contract you signed, Neha, I may be able to terminate your position with extreme prejudice, to you.” He paused. “You do not have this liberty. Resigning is a prejudice to me and this station, and I cannot accept it.”

  The job. He was talking about the job. Her throat choked on a lump of tears, the liquid burning her eyes and threatening to spill over her cheeks.

  Punishment. He wished to punish her for asking him to let go of her earlier. His lovemaking had been that, too. Not an act of love, or of desire or want. Only pure manipulation on his part to show her who called the shots.

  Something burst inside her, as if a dam had ruptured, flooding her with sensations and feelings.

  Almost like what she had felt when she had first heard that Rahul had gone missing. Except this time, not only did she know an asthma attack would soon come, but she also knew how every single cell inside her would die a swift death.

  Standing tall, grabbing at her dignity with scrambling hands, Neha reckoned she must appear cool and poised in front of him, not let him find out how much he affected her.

  “Will this be all?” she asked in a croak.

  He tightened his lips into a thin white slash, his gaze narrowed, and then, he gave a slight nod.

  She needed no more to turn on her heel and walk out of the office. She forced her legs to take casual steps and not break into a frantic run as she craved to. Even with the door closed, he could still see her through the one-way mirror. She kept the pace until she’d moved out of the station and into the corridor outside.

  Only then did she accelerate her step, going to the TV studio and finding her handbag in the wardrobe room. She closed her hand on her inhaler and sent a long puff into her body. Forcing herself to control her shivering, she waited until the sickly feeling passed before grabbing the bag and walking out of the studio and the building towards her car.

  All the way back to Curepipe, she kept her gaze focused on the windshield. The little vehicle crawled along at a snail’s pace, and she made sure to stick to the regulated left lane throughout the trip because she could hardly see through the haze of tears blurring her vision.

  She had completely messed up. What would she do now?

  Finally reaching home, she paused once on the threshold to the door leading into the kitchen. Could that be the outline of a big BMW X6 out there n
ear the entrance to her driveway?

  Shaking her head, she dismissed the silly notion. She’d grown so used to seeing Logan’s SUV shadowing hers in the evening, she was probably imagining things. Why would he follow her, when he’d made it clear he held her in utter contempt?

  At this thought, a fresh wave of tears threatened, and another clenching ball settled in her throat. She sniffled and walked into the house.

  Stop thinking about Logan, or you’ll make yourself sick.

  After checking if the children were okay, Neha retired to her room. As her gaze alit on the bed, she reeled, needing to place her hand against the wall to stop the surroundings from spinning when she imagined the sight of her and Logan’s big, tanned body tangled together on the mattress in the reflection of the standing mirror.

  Her throat and forehead burning, pain splitting her head in two, she tried hard to forget the image in her thoughts and tumbled into the bed, fully clothed, for the night.

  ***

  She’d been right to think she’d make herself sick.

  Neha awoke the next morning after erratic and restless sleep with a sad croak for a voice. Her throat burnt as if having been vigorously brushed with coarse sandpaper, and her body hurt all over.

  “Gads, Mum. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to anchor tonight. Or any other night soon, for that matter,” Suzanne said when she came in to see her before leaving for school.

  This is not the proper way to talk, young lady, Neha yearned to say, but couldn’t thanks to her practically non-existing voice. Suzanne was right, though. Grabbing her cell phone from her handbag near the bedside table, she winced when every successive movement of any muscle felt like a herd of oxen happy-rolling over her.

  “Call Logan,” she mouthed as she handed the phone to her daughter.

  She settled back against the pillows and refrained from pulling the quilt over her head in an effort to escape the thought of what Logan would say when told she was calling in sick. Would he think she was throwing a sickie in an attempt to not meet him?

  It would be a juvenile thing to do, she reckoned as she released her grip on the comfy blanket. A small, derogatory chuckle escaped her. Even Suzanne wouldn’t do something like this. With half an ear, she listened to her daughter talk to her boss—and lover—and inform him Neha was sick.

  And then, the house grew quiet. She revelled in the silence, a blissful feeling accentuated by the fact that she huddled in her cocoon, in her safe haven.

  Well, if she dismissed the fact that Logan had culled her surrender in this very bed the previous day.

  At the thought, she groaned. She had to get away from him, more so now because he appeared intent on making her life Hell thanks to what she’d put him through. If only she knew if he was going through a phase and he’d get over it later. If only she knew that nothing more than his rightful anger made him act like this.

  They said “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Guess ‘they’ had never met a man scorned. Logan could take the expression to new heights, and Neha bore the brunt of this wrath. Why had she allowed her insecurities to get the better of her when they had? If she hadn’t, Logan and she would’ve been able to handle this like adults. They’d have sat down and talked, and even if she’d have needed to put him against the wall, they would’ve known where they stood.

  No, she’d had to jump the gun, and look where this had gotten her now.

  She had to face it; he really wouldn’t let her go. Not until he’d grown satisfied she’d paid penance enough.

  And where Logan was concerned, penance could mean eternal Hell and not one hint of Purgatory, even.

  As the headache grew beneath her skull, she flinched with the pain. Closing her eyes, she tried hard to bring the shutter down on every conscious thought and give in to the bliss of sleep.

  Doing the right thing seemed to spell putting as much distance as possible between her and that scorned man.

  ***

  “Logan called today,” Suzanne said as she sauntered into the kitchen that Friday afternoon.

  Neha was slowly feeling human again, coming downstairs for longer periods of time instead of remaining in bed, knocked out with pain and kinks in her muscles. Her father, a doctor, said she’d caught a really bad flu bug, the reason why she felt like death warmed over on a good day.

  He kept a steady eye on her, making sure the flu didn’t degenerate into something more complicated like bronchitis or pneumonia which could prove dangerous with her asthma. Her mother fussed and clucked over her like a mother hen, and, for once, she welcomed the attention. Her mum also took care of the children, Neha not up to doing anything other than letting herself be pampered and looked after. Too much going on in her head, and in her heart, to allow her to recover as soon as possible. Truth be told, she didn’t want to recover any time soon because then, it would mean having to go back to work and face Logan.

  And here he struck again, even if through being mentioned by her daughter. She’d forgotten how chummy he and Suzanne had become.

  “What’d he say?” she asked weakly with her still missing-in-action voice.

  “Asking how you were, if it looked like you’d be coming back to work soon,” Suzanne replied. “Mum, I have a feeling he really misses you.” She came to sit at the counter across from Neha. “Listen, we know about you two.”

  She sat up straighter, and made a grimace when it felt like she had pulled every muscle in her back in the process. “We who?”

  Suzanne rolled her eyes. “Me, Kunal, and Rishi. It’s no secret, Mum. You and Logan are going out together, and there’s no reason to go about it behind our backs. We’re grown-ups who understand.”

  Neha closed her eyes. What did she tell her daughter? There existed no Logan and her any more, and if she could, she’d never go back to the station ever again. In the wake of Rahul’s death confirmation, a lot of things had happened over the past week. One of them had been the issue of his life insurance money. Neha had been stunned when informed how his policy entitled them to over five million rupees in all. She’d never have to work for another day in her life to earn their keep, and could also put the children through school and university without any further worry.

  Questions had erupted in her mind. How come the pay-out had turn to be so hefty? He had contracted a policy, but for this much? None less staggering would be the call she received from the family friend who had enquired for her into the whole police mix-up business back in India. Apparently, Rahul’s body had been recovered in Chennai, and the fact that he had gone missing in Mumbai had muddied the waters for the authorities.

  What had he been doing in Chennai? And where had he been all this time, in these past two years when he’d gone off the radar? More questions than answers had arisen, and her head had swum with all of them.

  Everyone kept telling her how nothing mattered except that they could close the lid on this matter; that officially, this should be behind them.

  How, she’d have begged to ask, when instead of making life easier, this had only complicated everything?

  “Mum? Are you okay?”

  She snapped out of her spell and focused her gaze on Suzanne. What did she tell the girl?

  How about the truth?

  “Sweetheart,” she said, reaching for her daughter’s hand. “Things … aren’t so right at the moment.”

  Suzanne frowned. “You had a fight?”

  She nodded.

  “But why? This is what you both had been waiting for, isn’t it? I mean, it’s sad and all about Dad, but Mum, we’ve all come to grips with this news and grieved through it two years ago.”

  “I know—”

  “No, you don’t. What happened?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  She glared at her daughter. “Careful.”

  To her surprise, Suzanne waved her word away with her hand.

  “You broke up with him?” Disbelief hung heavy in every w
ord in the question.

  “It’s … over, Suzie.”

  “Don’t call me Suzie. No one calls me Suzie. How could you, Mum?”

  Taken aback by the vehemence in the younger girl’s tone, Neha remained there struck speechless.

  Yes, she acquiesced, no one calls you Suzie. No one but Matthew and Logan. The two men Suzanne loved above all else.

  Her head felt like it would split in two, and she moaned softly as she closed her eyes and the pain engulfed her. “I gotta get back to bed.”

  “Right, Mum. Run away, won’t you?”

  Her eyes flew open. “Suzanne!”

  Her daughter abruptly stood, throwing her hands up. “I don’t know why I even bother,” she said, before stomping out of the kitchen towards the stairs.

  Neha groaned and allowed her forehead to touch the cool wood of the counter. The terrible teens. She thought she’d escaped them with Suzanne, but seemed they were coming on.

  All because of a man named Logan Warrington.

  ***

  Logan ground his teeth as he slid behind the wheel of the X6 and eased the car into traffic. Already Saturday, and he’d promised Kunal he’d come meet him at the gym to help him prepare for his first national competition, which would take place in a few weeks. The events so far had been to introduce him to the public eye. The real test of his strength would come when he took champions on.

  He hadn’t seen the boy in a while, and not since he’d become involved with Neha. And broken up with her.

  Bugger, he hadn’t broken it with her. She had. With her talks of marrying again and being untainted by widowhood. What a load of shite, he wanted to hurl out every time the thoughts came back to haunt him. He grimaced—this would be akin to admitting he yearned to say those words every other minute, because that’s how much this damnable issue occupied his mind. There’d been nights when he had craved … not just her, but alcohol. The urge had been debilitating at times, but he had weathered on, even going as far as calling his sponsor back in London, where he’d been living prior to coming to Mauritius. He’d had to dig deep, but had come out the victor. Over his past addiction, but not the current one.