What He Needs: A New Adult Romance (My Alpha Billionaire)
Page 6
Jill looked sad to see him scampering away so quickly. After heaving a slightly exaggerated sigh, she said, “I’m guessing this latest bit is making it a little easier dealing with the breakup.”
The unofficial taking-a-temporary-breather semi-breakup.
We hadn’t officially broken up. I hadn’t heard from Shane since that night in my condo. He hadn’t called. Didn’t speak to me at work. Nothing. So, officially we were…in limbo. But it was easier, less painful, to let Jill believe we’d broken up. “A little easier, I guess.”
She sipped her Bellini, served in a champagne flute. “Mmm, is that good.” She licked her lips. “Do you want to go out again this weekend? Maybe hit a club or two like old times?”
Clubbing. Again? Ugh. “I don’t know if I’m ready for anything like that yet,” I said as I stirred my alcohol-free strawberry iced tea. Tonight I needed to stay sober. If I drank, I would lose my resolve. I might actually tell Jill what had happened between Shane and me. That would be bad. “It hasn’t been that long since we’d been to a club, and the last time…I don’t need to remind you of how awful that was.”
“Was it really that bad?”
“Yes.”
Jill scowled. “Sorry. I was trying to be helpful. Russell is cute. And a doctor. A successful doctor.”
“I know you were trying to help. Which is why we’re still friends. But in the future, please stick with what you do best—lawyering. And leave the matchmaking to Patti Stanger.”
Jill laughed as she stabbed at her salad, doused in ranch dressing. “Okay. No more matchmaking for me. Until you’re ready—“
“No matchmaking,” I interrupted. “At all. Period. None.”
She scrunched up her face. “Was I really so bad at it?”
“Do I need to answer that question?”
“Wow. You’re brutal.”
“Just being honest. I wouldn’t suggest a career change.”
“No worries. I wasn’t planning one. At least not until we find out what’s up with your ex-boyfriend. I really, really want to know the truth.” Jill lifted her glass. “How about a toast? To learning the truth?”
“To learning the truth,” I echoed, tapping my glass against hers.
* * * * *
After dinner, Jill did her best to try to convince me to go out for drinks. She was meeting up with some of her people from work, one of them the guy she was going to have dig up the dirt on Shane. I declined. Not only didn’t I want to be sitting around with a bunch of lawyers, listening to them talk shop, but I didn’t want to be there when she told her assistant about Shane. I knew she’d be using some choice words in describing him. As much as I suspected he probably deserved to be described in that manner (especially if he was married), I couldn’t really stomach hearing it. Not yet.
I went home.
I clicked on the TV. Surfed through all three channels I was able to get without cable. Then I decided to poke around on my cellphone a little bit. I had unlimited internet on my cellphone. It was agonizingly slow--like, watching a slug run a marathon slow. But it was better than nothing. I opened a blank web page, put the cursor in the little box and typed Shane’s name.
Instantly, my screen was full of links to articles about Shane. One dated last Friday caught my eye. He was dressed in a suit and tie, standing next to none other than Alexis.
The article’s headline: Has America’s favorite billionaire bachelor found his match at last?
Oh God. Here we go again. Will it ever end?
It’s just speculation. More silly rumors. That was Friday night. The same day the article was published, he was standing in my condo, yelling at me about talking to another man.
Rumor. Speculation. That was all it was.
My finger hovered over the screen.
I wanted to click the link.
No, I didn’t.
Yes, yes I did.
No.
I shut the browser.
No.
To keep from opening the window again, I powered down my phone, plugged it into the charger, and went to the kitchen for a bedtime snack.
The writing was on the wall. Whether he was still legally married to some woman somewhere in Europe, about to be married to that bitch here in the US, or still the non-communicative jerk who made me look like a fool for just talking to another man, we were through. Over. Done. The sooner I accepted that fact, the better.
He hadn’t called me in a week. He hadn’t apologized. He’d just dumped me like yesterday’s trash.
I deserved better than that.
I went to bed, still trying to convince myself I could live without him.
* * * * *
The night was pure hell.
I didn’t sleep. I dozed off a couple of times, but the instant I started falling into a deeper sleep, I jerked awake.
I swear, I was sick. It had to be the flu. I was sweating. I was shaking. Hot. Cold. Hot again. I couldn’t get comfortable, and I couldn’t stay comfortable. When my alarm clock started squealing at six-thirty, I groaned, dragged my heavy, aching, shivering body out of bed, stripped, and stumbled into the bathroom. A long, almost scalding hot shower left my skin tingling. I smelled clean. But I still felt like crap. I briefly considered calling in sick but quickly decided that was a bad idea. I had just started my new job. A job I liked, so far. I didn’t want to risk losing it.
Thus, I pulled on my most comfortable work clothes, made myself a big cup of coffee and hurried out to my car. I cranked on the engine, shifted into reverse and hit the gas.
The car lurched backward about three inches then died.
A wave of horror washed through me.
“Please, start,” I chanted as I twisted the key. The engine cranked and chugged then shuddered and died. A third attempt got the same results.
I was screwed.
I dug my phone out of my purse and prayed Jill was still at home. She answered on the third ring.
“Hey!” Jill’s bouncy voice was too energetic for so early. “What’s up? You never call me in the morning.”
“My car’s dead.” My voice, in contrast, was anything but bouncy. I tried the car again. No deal.
“Dead?” Jill echoed.
“Dead.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“At home. In my driveway, trying to resist the urge to blow up my car.” I sighed. Hard. Could this day suck any more? “This is only my second week. I need to get to work. And I’m sick, to top it all off. Where are you?”
“I’m on my way into a meeting with a client.”
“Damn.” I yanked the keys out and kicked open the door. “I guess I’ll call into work. Not the best way to start a new job.”
“Give me a minute. Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you back in five.”
“O-okay.” I kicked the car door shut.
“Bye.”
Standing outside glaring at my car, I dialed my auto club’s service number to schedule a tow truck. I listened to the automated greeting. Then I listened to some really tacky music and a sales pitch. Before I had a live customer service rep on the phone, my line rang. I checked the number. Jill. I took a chance and clicked over to see if Jill had been able to do something for me.
“I have a runner on his way,” Jill announced.
My problems were solved. For the time being. “Are you kidding? Thank you. I owe you--”
“Don’t worry about it. He’ll be there in about fifteen.”
“You are a lifesaver.”
“Just remember this the next time I do something to piss you off,” Jill said cheerfully.
“I’ll remember, no matter what.”
“Good. I’ll swing by and pick you up after work tonight and take you home. Love ya! Gotta go.”
“Love ya, too! Bye.”
I clicked over to the other line. I must have missed the service rep when I was talking to Jill. The call had been cut off. Oh well. I would have to deal with the car later. I leaned against my de
ad car and checked the time. The runner would be here in fifteen minutes. It would be close, but I just might make it into work on time.
The runner, a young guy who didn’t like driving the legal speed limit, was zipping up in front of my condo five minutes earlier than I expected. I didn’t have my seatbelt fastened and he was already zooming away.
“Where are we headed?” he asked as he steered out into heavy morning rush hour traffic.
I gave him the directions and he stomped on the gas, shot past a couple of slow-moving cars, cut back into the right lane and somehow managed to get his little car onto the freeway without killing us.
It was the scariest ride of my life. But I made it to work and I renewed my faith in God, thanks to all the praying I did along the way. I thanked my reckless driver, shoved a twenty into his hand, and scurried inside, hitting the elevator button with five minutes to spare.
The chime rang, the doors opened, and…once again, I was face-to-face with my boss. He didn’t get out, like I was expecting. I stepped inside the car and stood stiff, staring straight ahead as the doors rolled shut.
“I hope you’re liking your new position,” he said. His voice was low and sexy, and it still did things to my insides that I didn’t want to happen.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good.”
My gaze lifted. The number two was illuminated.
I felt him moving closer and shifted my weight forward to try to put more space between us.
“I miss you,” he said very softly.
“Please don’t.”
“Okay.”
The rest of the ride he didn’t speak at all. It was awkward standing there, in such a close space, and not speaking to him. But I knew this wasn’t the time or place to talk about personal stuff.
As the number six lit, he leaned toward me and whispered, “I love you, Bristol.”
I practically staggered out of the elevator. I didn’t look back as I hurried down the hall. But Shane’s words echoed in my ear, over and over again. They distracted me as I tried to learn the new computer system. They plagued me as I sat in the café downstairs with Holly and tried to pretend I was interested in hearing about her plans for a trip to Vegas with her boyfriend. They haunted me as I packed up and prepared to leave for the night.
I vowed not to tell Jill what he said when her little sports car zoomed up in front of the building at five-twenty that night.
She waved me in. As I was making myself comfy, she said, “Hey, I hope you don’t mind if I just drop you off at home. I have a meeting with a client.”
“Sure. That’s fine. Thanks for helping me out.” I clicked my seatbelt.
She hit the gas, and we zoomed away. “Did you find out what’s wrong with your car yet?”
“No. I didn’t have a chance to get it towed.”
“Okay. I’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks. When I get home, I’ll call the auto club and get the car towed to a shop. Hopefully it’ll be fixed tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
Ten minutes later, we were almost halfway to my place. Traffic was really bad, worse than usual. “You’re quiet. Are you okay?”
“I’m all right. It’s just a lot to deal with all at once. New job. I caught some kind of bug, the flu, maybe. And now the car.”
“Aw hon. Things will turn around. I promise. It has to be extra hard at the new job if you’re seeing Shane a lot.” Jill looked over her shoulder then steered her car into a tiny opening between two SUV’s going a little faster in the left lane. Of course, once we got in the lane, everyone in front of us stomped on their brakes.
I sighed. Loud. And long. “I don’t see him a lot. But I have seen every day since I started.”
“Is he being a dick?”
“No. Not at all. I talked to him today for just a few minutes. We were in the elevator.”
Jill’s eyes bugged. “Oh, that had to be hell.”
“It was.”
“What did he say?” Up ahead, the light turned red, and she hit the brakes. Once she had the car stopped, she flicked me a tell-me look.
I couldn’t tell her everything. She would go on a rampage, saying what a jerk he was, and warning me not to let him make me change my mind. “He asked me if I like my new job.”
Her eyes narrowed. She was too freaking perceptive. “What else?”
“Not much,” I lied. “I tried not to speak to him.”
Her squinty eyes became squintier. “There’s more. There has to be. What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
Dammit. She was like a hound on the trail of a rabbit. There was no way I could get out of this. “He told me he loves me,” I mumbled.
“Oh God. You aren’t thinking about going back—“
“No.” I pointed at the light, which was now green. “Jill. The light.”
She hit the gas and her zoomy little car accelerated. “Maybe it isn’t such a good idea for you to work for his company.”
“It’s the only job I’ve been able to find.”
“I get that. You need a job. But you need to stay away from him. It’s like you’re addicted to him.”
My heart started pounding. She was wrong. I wasn’t a pathetic pining little sap. I had developed real feelings for Shane. Deep ones. She needed to respect that. “I’m not addicted, Jill. I love Shane. Like I’ve never loved a guy before. I hurt inside. All the time, especially when I see him.”
“That’s not love. You don’t love him. You want him. No, I take that back. You are in love with the idea of loving him. You don’t actually love him, not the real man, the flawed one with all the baggage. He is incapable of loving you back.”
“But he said—“
“He’s playing with your head. That bastard.” This time when she glanced my way, I let her see how hurt I was feeling. Her expression softened instantly. “I’m going to put out some feelers, see if I can get any leads to another job. You need to sever all ties to that man, or you’re never going to get over him. I can’t sit by and watch you pine away for a married man.”
Married man.
My insides clenched.
She’d said that with such conviction. Had she learned something already? “Is he, Jill? Is he married?”
“Oh, I don’t know for sure yet. My guy hasn’t been able to confirm it. But I tend to believe the rumors. Marriage between people from different countries is complicated, especially people with money.”
My insides did a flip-flop then a twist.
It was possible. Shane might be married.
How many times had he tried to warn me, that he was bad for me? All along I’d thought it was because of the domination and submission stuff or his possessiveness. Could there have been another reason why he’d tried to push me away so many times? Had this been the reason why he’d walked out of my condo and hadn’t called me? Did he feel guilty?
As Jill pulled up to my condo, she turned to me and promised, “I’m going to make some calls tonight. As soon as I leave. The sooner you’re out of that place--and out of his reach--the better.”
Chapter 7
The next day my world collapsed. Every planet in every dimension must have been aligned, because I’d never had so many things go wrong all at once. My car needed hundreds of dollars in repairs. Hundreds of dollars I didn’t have (I was going to have to borrow the cash from Jill—which I hated to do). My coffeemaker didn’t work. I had no idea what the problem was with it. And I had to take a cold shower, thanks to the pilot going out on my hot water heater again. The only thing that went right was I managed to get to work on time, thanks to Jill. As promised, she zoomed up in her car twenty minutes before I had to be at work. She dropped me off fifteen minutes later.
Adding insult to injury, when I stepped inside Shane intercepted me no more than a minute after I arrived, cornering me in a hallway. He was big and resolute and sexy. And he was determined to talk to me.
I didn’t fight him.
Then he locked it.
What was he doing?
I looked into his eyes.
Oh no.
My heart started galloping hard and fast.
I needed to do something. Now. Before it was too late. Before I did something stupid or impulsive.
I grabbed for the doorknob but he blocked my exit.
I said, “Shane, I need to report—“
“I have to speak with you.”
I pushed on his big, broad chest. It didn’t budge. “Shane, I’m at work. You’re the boss. I’m the new girl. I’ll get fired. Besides—“
“No one will fire you.” He caught my wrists and gathered them into one fist.
A quiver of heat raced through me. Oh God, I loved it when he acted like this, domineering and in control. But at the same time I was torn, conflicted, and nervous. First, I had been telling myself I was better off without him since he’d walked out of my life that night. And I’d almost convinced myself that was true. And second, this was not the time or place to talk about our personal problems. What if someone found us? What excuse could I give my manager that wouldn’t get me into trouble?
I twisted my wrists, trying to free them from his vice-like grip. It wasn’t working. “That’s not the point, Shane.”
“Then let me say what I need to say,” he snapped, his voice uncharacteristically cold.
It was then that I looked at him, really closely looked.
His hair was a little messier than usual.
And his clothes were a smidge less perfect, his tie knot not quite so neat, his shirt slightly wrinkled.
I stopped trying to pull free. I had to let him speak. Something was wrong. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“Someone is following me.”
“Okay.” Immediately, I remembered Jill’s guy. He’d obviously been spotted. I was going to have to call Jill and let her know.
“You might be in danger,” he added, looking more than a little concerned.
“Well, thank you for your concern. I’ll try to be more careful, but I doubt I’m in any danger. We haven’t gone anywhere together in a while. Besides, rumor has it you’re marrying Alexis,” I told him, intentionally avoiding the topic of the suspected wife in Europe. I didn’t care that he might be married to some woman a thousand miles away. Or rather, I didn’t want to care.