Bargaining with the Boss

by Gatta, Allison

  He could understand that, though he thought she would have told him if it was something like that.

  No, there was something else going on here.

  Jealousy, maybe?

  "Three or four times a week." Franco's answer cut through his thoughts, and when his gaze met the other man's he had a sudden insistent urge to sock him as hard as he possibly could.

  Dammit all.

  He had to get out of here.

  Take a minute to pull himself together and figure this out. It was possible he was overreacting. She wouldn't do anything to—

  No.

  No. He was done making excuses for the layers of secrets he just had to deal with because that was Natalie's way. He was sick of being bounced around, not knowing whether she was going to zig or zag.

  And, more than that, never finding out the reason for why she did either.

  There was no reason for this.

  He wanted to be with her, but he wasn't going to deal with this bullshit.

  He wasn't going to be somebody's fool.

  Not now or ever.

  "If you'll excuse me, I have to use the restroom." He handed Natalie the sheet of questions, then marched down the gazebo steps.

  "Brooks—" she started, but he shook his head.

  "I'll be right back." He walked away without another glance at her. He couldn't confront her tonight. They'd have a talk and they'd make it clear to everyone that they were together once and for all.

  He walked into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. After two deep breaths, he splashed some water on his face, and then rested his hands on either side of the basin.

  Tonight, he was going to tell Natalie Gains that he loved her.

  After that, everything was going to be just fine.

  He walked back out the garden, determined to finish up with Franco as quickly as possible so that they could get everything settled. Once they were alone together again, everything was going to be perfect.

  She was going to be his and he was going to be—

  "What the fuck are you doing with this guy?" Franco's voice cut through the garden and Brooks treaded nearer, listening intently.

  "Shh," Natalie whispered. "He'll be back any minute."

  "Even better, then you can tell him—"

  "Franco, don't. You don't understand, okay?"

  "I don't understand? I— Are you kidding me?"

  "Look, I know it's not fair, I know that, but just hear me out."

  "I know about the fucking roses, though—"

  "Don't. Just—"

  A twig snapped beneath Brooks' foot, but not before he caught sight of Natalie and Franco. They were sitting close now, holding both of each other's hands as they spoke.

  Fuck all.

  She'd fucking played him.

  All this time, he'd let her have her secrets and her lies and all her bullshit.

  And he was being fucking played.

  It didn't make any goddamned sense. She wanted to match him up with someone? Maybe so he wouldn’t send her the damn roses everyday.

  Still, she hadn't told him and now he'd sat there with a man who was in love with his girl never knowing what was going on under his own damn nose.

  Well, he didn't have to stick around for that.

  She needed to get rid of this guy? That was her problem.

  He wasn't going to be fucking used like that.

  He turned on his heel and headed out, back through the wide doors and into the party.

  The plarty was still in full swing and he knew one place he could to be sure of having a good time.

  It didn't take long to find her. Like always, she was three steps from the bar, humming to herself while she waited for someone or other to wait on her every goddamned need or want.

  "Debbie," he said.

  She patted the velvet next to her. "My prince charming. I thought you'd never come."

  "Here I am. All yours."

  Chapter Eleven

  "Did you hear that?" Natalie glanced toward the shrubs. There was a figure there, definitely, and Brooks had already been gone for so long--

  "Who cares? We need to talk about this, but first we need to get you the hell out of here." Franco's grip on her wrist tightened, but she shook her head.

  There was something going on here. She couldn't say what or why, but a knot of steel was already tying itself tight in her chest and sinking low into her stomach.

  She looked down at their interlocked hands, and then said, "Let's just find Brooks and reschedule."

  "I'll handle Brooks. You need to climb over the fence and get out of here. If Dominic sees you together—"

  "Franco, please—"

  "No, Natalie. This is serious. Get out. I'm telling you now."

  "Fine. I'll leave. But first I have to find Brooks. I'll tell him to meet you out here, okay?"

  "If you think for a minute that I'm going to let you go back in there alone—"

  "Just trust me." She couldn't let Franco come with her. When she saw Brooks, it would have to be on her own.

  Tonight, she'd have to explain everything. About Dominic. About Brooks.

  About her whole unabridged life as Natalie Del Rossi.

  She stood and carefully disengaged herself from Franco's grasp. "It's going to be all right." The reassurance was one she very much did not feel, but she had to try. Franco nodded, though he didn't bother to meet her gaze.

  "You were never the problem," he mumbled.

  "I'll be in the middle of a crowd. Save all your chivalry for the tabloids, okay?" She grinned at him, and though he returned the smile, she knew neither of them had felt it.

  Sucking in her bottom lip, she marched toward the double doors, making her shoulders a little squarer with every step. This was just a misunderstanding. It was natural, she guessed, for a man to be jealous.

  Even sort of flattering.

  Like he wanted her to be all his.

  A smile, genuine this time, tugged at the corner of her mouth and she thought again of how ironic this whole thing with Brooks had been. The man who flitted from woman to woman was jealous...over her.

  He wanted her.

  He...loved her?

  She turned the thought over in her mind, remembering the way he always stared at her after they made love. There had always been a tenderness there, an affection that the mocking, laughing Brooks would never say aloud.

  But when he held her in his arms, she knew.

  Even if he didn't say it aloud, she knew.

  She was his. All his.

  And him?

  He was...

  Directly across from her.

  She zeroed in one his thick wave of dark hair, nestled close to some blonde woman who was whispering in his ear. So close, in fact, that Natalie wouldn't be at all surprised if his ear lobe were coated in tacky, bright red lipstick.

  Her heart froze in her throat and she watched as he smiled, nodding and she continued to dither beside him.

  It was like a reenactment of all those society photos that used to grace the papers before they'd been together.

  Society Millionaire Finds Love...Again

  She shook her head. She could already see tomorrow's headline. A photo of the two of them together on the red carpet and then, directly beside it, the image of Marilyn Mon-Faux in her deep-cut cherry dress and her red talons practically digging into his thigh.

  By noon, they'd be the talk of the town.

  And the office.

  Look at me.

  She willed him to look up. Like maybe if he saw her there, staring at them from across the room, he'd run to her and offer some easy explanation. She was a client who was always a little too friendly. An old flame he'd been trying to get away from.

  Something.

  Anything but what she thought, no, knew it was.

  Revenge.

  Look at me.

  She poured every ounce of energy into the thought, but he still just sat there, grinning stupidly at the woman
beside him.

  Natalie had to stop this. In a weird way, she'd started it. The way he'd handled it had been bad, sure, but they could work it out. She could forgive this, no matter how it made bile churn in her stomach and acid course in her throat.

  They could get through this.

  As long as she stopped it from going too far.

  So she cut through the crowd, careful to ignore calls from old friends along the way, only to be stopped again by a strong grip on her bicep.

  Dammit, when would Franco learn? She could handle herself. He just had to let her try.

  She whipped around. "Franco, I don't have time to—"

  The words died in her mouth as she took in the man who was holding her back.

  He had all of Franco's dark, sharp features. The prominent nose, the powerful jawline. The sharp, discerning dark eyes.

  And yet, he had none of the qualities that made Franco approachable. The curve of Franco's cheekbones was replaced by a severe jagged line. His strong brow was set in fierce determination.

  And anger.

  Dominic.

  Her heart flipped over in her chest, and though she tried to speak, all her words came out in inaudible whispers.

  "Hello, mi amor." His voice had always been deeper than his brother's. Back then, she'd thought it was a mark of masculinity. Now, though, she knew better.

  It was predatory.

  "One hundred yards." She finally managed, and though the words were shaky-sounding at best, she knew he'd heard her.

  "You won't say hello to me after all this time? After all the money I've spent on you?"

  "I didn't ask--didn't want--"

  "You never knew what you wanted. But please, be calm. I'm not here to hurt you. I only want to see you. It's been so long." His free hand tucked under her chin and turned her to him, and she felt as though she were a robot made with rusty hinges, creaking along with the movement, reluctant but obedient.

  If she could only turn away. If she could meet Brook's gaze, he'd know. He'd realize she was in trouble and he'd be by her side in a heartbeat. She just had to find a way to tell him.

  "My brother isn't speaking to me because of you." Dominic's voice was silky as always, softly insistent. She knew better than to respond.

  "My mother, too, says she's ashamed of me." He stared at her, clearly waiting for a response. Again, though, she remained silent.

  Couldn't the people around them see what was happening? Couldn't they tell that someone--anyone--needed to step in?

  But no, from every direction, all she could see were people laughing and chatting, nobody paying the slightest bit of attention to the danger nearby.

  "You don't have anything to say? No apology?"

  Her eyes widened, and she instantly sensed her mistake.

  He glared at her, only for a second, and then his features smoothed and he nodded. "You think I deserve it."

  She shook her head. What she thought wasn't important. She just had to get out. Get back. Find Brooks.

  Where was Brooks?

  Why hadn't he come to find her?

  "I did some terrible things, Natalie. You might be right. But I'm better now. You've read my notes." It was a question, she knew, but if she stayed quiet—

  His grip tightened on her arm and he dragged her closer still. So close that she could smell his cologne—spice and sandalwood and money.

  A wave of nausea rolled over her at the scent.

  She couldn't take it anymore. There'd be no safe escape for her here. She just had to break for it.

  She squatted low as quickly as she could, trying to break his grip on her, then ran for it, but he caught her wrist and held it with both his hands, pulling her back in so sharply that she smashed into his chest.

  'You know better than that—" He started, staring deep into her eyes.

  This was how it started.

  How it had always started.

  The low grumble of warning, and then—

  "What's going on here?" A familiar voice sounded behind her and then a warm arm was wrapped protectively around her waist, dragging her away. Saving her.

  "Does Natalie know you?" Dominic narrowed his eyes and Brooks, then his gaze lowered to where Brook's hand draped around her waist.

  Rage flashed in his eyes, but if Brooks noticed it, he didn't let on.

  "I'm her boyfriend." Brooks said.

  "Is that so?" Dominic smiled like a predator who'd spotted wounded prey.

  "Yes."

  "She didn't mention having a boyfriend. Funny how that works. If you don't mind, we were having a private discussion."

  "Didn't look like much of a discussion to me. And if you don't mind my asking, who the hell are you?"

  The crowd who'd been so heedless of her peril earlier had suddenly become enthralled by it. Every couple in the nearby area had glanced toward them, whispering to each other about the proceedings.

  Old friends pointed between herself and Dominic, probably explaining their mysterious separation to each other. Others pointed to Brooks, likely wondering if she was his newest flavor of the week.

  It was the stuff of society scandal.

  But for Natalie?

  For Natalie, it was her worst nightmare realized.

  "Brooks, let's go, okay? We don't need to do this." She tugged on his sleeve, but his attention was for Dominic alone.

  "What I am to Natalie is a private affair."

  "I beg to differ." In an instant, his hand was gone from her waist, fisting into a ball at his side, waiting for Dominic's next retort.

  Dominic took a step toward him, his predator's grin growing bigger by the second. "I promise you, you don't want to be involved."

  Brooks matched his step. "I promise you, I do."

  Dominic's smile softened, and then he turned his attention to Natalie, eyebrows raised. "Is this what becomes of you when you're left on your own? First, the skimpy outfits and money-grubbing in Vegas, and now you're a high society whore?"

  As far as Natalie could tell, Dominic was on the ground before he saw the punch coming. Brooks shook his hand for a second, evidently easing the knuckles before he got on the floor and continued to thrash at Dominic, swinging so hard that spatters of blood flicked the ground nearby.

  Dominic attempted to hit back, and though he landed one punch, he was no match for Brooks.

  That, of course, was when the cameras began to flash. The crowd who'd been unobtrusively watching before was now out-and-out staring at the men, a few of them shouting as Dominic writhed and kicked.

  The blonde who'd been with Brooks reached the surface of the crowd and was cheering for him at the top of her voice, her long island accent thick and astringent.

  Natalie tried to pull Brooks away more than once, but he'd apparently lost himself in the moment, thrashing at his opponent until the police broke through the ranks and cuffed each of the men in turn.

  Brooks shouted for Natalie as he was shoved through the crowd, and she watched him, unsure whether to shuffle along behind or stay where she was.

  The lights of the cameras blinded her, and soon even if she'd wanted to follow him, she wouldn't haven been able to find her way. The women around her tugged on her dress, asking her questions, trying to search for clarity.

  In truth, she wouldn't have minded a bit of clarity herself.

  It had all happened so fast. First with Brooks and Franco, and then with Dominic.

  She should never have come here. She should have gone with her gut and stayed home, out of the spotlight.

  Then, nobody would ask her any questions.

  Then, maybe she'd have be able to leave the past in the past.

  One woman tugged on her dress harder than the rest and she grabbed the fabric before whipping around to face her. The tiny blonde who'd been in Brooks' ear, whispering god only knew what while terror descended on Natalie.

  To her surprise though, the woman didn't seem upset or jealous or even all that curious. Her smile was kindly, if a little
vacant, and she asked, "I'm going to see if Brooks needs a ride home from the station. You wanna come with me?"

  Natalie shook her head.

  God only knew if Brooks wanted to see her again after tonight. First with Franco, then with Dominic. Fighting for her didn't mean he'd forgiven her, and getting arrested in her honor would probably do nothing to soften that blow.

  With a sinking stomach, she thought of Garret's face when he saw tomorrow's headlines. And Rachael. And Eliza.

  If Natalie had never gone to that damned hotel...No, if she'd never taken that damned job, none of them would be here right now. She'd known better than to go. Just like she'd known better than to get involved with Brooks in the first place. Just like she'd known better than to come here.

  And still, where Brooks was concerned, listening to her rational side had never been an option.

  Well, not any more.

  She was done with cameras and with Brooks Adams and with life as a secretary. Who knew? Maybe she'd waitress for a while or go back home and see if her dad had left anything behind for her.

  It didn't matter what happened next.

  All that mattered was that it was behind her now.

  A strong grip closed around her shoulder and she turned to find Franco there, his expression almost as stern as the last time they'd been in the same room with his brother.

  There was sadness behind his eyes. And fury. But for her, she could only see compassion, and she threw herself into his embrace before she remembered the cameras were even there.

  He stroked her hair gently, and though she knew the crowd still hummed with excitement and confusion, she was able to block it out for a single moment while Franco soothed her wounds.

  His rumbling voice broke through her thoughts, "It's a good thing you wore this dress. I'd hate for you to look bad on the front page."

  She couldn't bring herself to smile, and when he looked down at her again, she gave him a slight, shaky nod.

  It was time to go.

  Again.

  As he moved her through the crowd, she was amazed by how easily he sheltered her from the paparazzi. To every question, he grunted or didn't bother to answer at all—including the more incendiary questions.

  Like, for example, if Natalie was also carrying his baby.

  When she settled into the Mercedes, she leaned the seat back as far as it would go then let out one deep breath.