Breaking up with My Boss: An Enemies to Lovers, Office Romance (Love You Forever Book 4)

by Alexis Winter

  We make it home, and once we’re inside, we go directly to our rooms to get ready for bed. I take my time in removing my jewelry and showering, just wanting more time alone to think. I never thought Matthew and I would end up here: in love and ready to get married, with this father threatening to tear us apart at any moment.

  I’m brushing my hair when I hear my bedroom door open. Matthew walks in shirtless, muscles flexing as he walks over to me. He steps up behind me and presses a kiss to my shoulder.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  I set my brush down and spin around to face him. “Your father,” I confess.

  He shakes his head. “Don’t. Don’t give him any more energy than he deserves. Don’t let him tear us apart.” His hands find my hips and he pulls me closer. I rest my head against his chest. “He’s taken so much from me already. Don’t let him take you too,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my head.

  And that’s when I decide. He’s right. I never cared about what people thought of me before. Why am I letting it affect me now? I’m happy with Matthew. I love him and he loves me. Why shouldn’t we get what we both want?

  “No one is taking me away from you,” I reply, lifting my head from his chest to look up at him. Our eyes lock and something is exchanged. Honesty. Truth. Love.

  I reach around his neck and pull his mouth to mine. He kisses me softly and slowly, full of love and relief—relief that I’m not running.

  He picks me up against him. “Come on. Let’s go to bed,” he says, carrying me out of my bathroom, down the hall, and into his room where we stay for the rest of the night.

  After that, things return to normal. We go to work, then we come home every night to be together, even though we each have our own things to do. I’ve finished my etiquette classes, which were mostly pointless, but at least I now know which fork to use during each course of a fancy dinner. I also have my piano lessons and my personal trainer. Matthew has changed his workout schedule around so we’re both at the gym at the same time. This gives us more time together outside of the gym too. Every Friday night, we go to his grandmother’s house for dinner, but his father hasn’t shown his face again.

  Matthew says his father has always gotten everything he’s ever wanted. But he didn’t get what he wanted this time, so he’s off sulking. He bets he won’t show his face at dinner again for a long time.

  Sunday mornings, the three of us have brunch. Once a month, we switch it up and enjoy high tea. I’m really connecting with his grandmother in ways I never expected to. She tells me stories about Matthew as a child and the trouble he’d get into. She tells me things about the family—people I’ve never met. She also tells me stories from her youth: how she grew up, the things she did, the men she’d been with. It’s like diving into an old history book that’s more personal—not just facts, but opinions too. I truly enjoy every minute I get to spend with her, and the funny thing is, I find myself wanting to call her throughout the day like she’s my best friend. I don’t want to bother her though, so I usually just make a mental note of things to talk about the next time we see her.

  Time passes quickly and perfectly. Locked away at home, we always felt like nothing could ever get to us, but now, nothing can get to us out there either. We’re together forever. I almost feel like I’m living a real-life version of the Cinderella story—a poor girl who never had anyone finally finds her Prince Charming. And although life isn’t perfect and Matthew and I still have our squabbles from time to time, we always overcome it with laughter and love.

  Months pass and our wedding preparations begin. We hire a wedding planner and find a location. We opt for a destination wedding at his grandmother’s private island. I never saw myself getting married on the beach, but it seems fitting considering how he proposed. And honestly, I can’t wait to go back. The ceremony will be private—only close friends and family. And all their expenses are paid, including the hotel we’re renting for them to stay in after the festivities are done. I don’t think anyone has ever invited everyone to their honeymoon location then sent them away instead of leaving them behind, but I like the backwardness of it all. Not to mention, Chicago is booked solid for years to come. It’s like if you want a nice venue in Chicago, you have to book it when you’re born. I didn’t want the stress of it all. This seemed like the best and easiest option.

  Now the countdown begins. The wedding planner is handling every aspect for me after I gave her full control, not caring about any of the details as long as he and I are together. My only job is to find a dress and show up. Matthew knows I’m not much of a shopper, so instead of sending me out with a credit card in hand, he arranges for someone to bring racks and racks of dresses to me in the privacy of our own home. He promises to stay in his office so he doesn’t see the dress before the big day.

  Someone knocks on the door and I answer it, watching and laughing as he rushes to his office to get out of the way. The moment I open the door, people are lined up outside in the hallway, and they begin pushing in rack after rack. I stand back, watching in awe as the living room transforms into a bridal store.

  With a deep breath, I start going through the dresses. When I find one I like, I hang it on an empty rack. Each time I’m done going through a rack, someone wheels it out. Slowly but surely, I manage to get everything down to one rack—the one that has every dress I like. There are only 10 dresses on it, and even that seems overwhelming. The men leave the room and the women stay to help me dress. There’s a long fold-out mirror against the wall and another behind me, so I can see every angle of the dresses I try on.

  The first one is too much—too puffy, too glittery. It’s pretty, but not timeless and not meant to see sand and ocean water. I take it off and they take it away, bringing in another dress. I never thought I’d be a bridezilla, but I manage to find something wrong with every dress I’d picked out. Every single one . . . except one. The last one. I put it on and it’s made of a crisp white statin material. It’s thin and form-fitting. The sleeves are small, only hanging off my shoulders instead of sitting on them, and the back is cut low, almost to my ass. It hugs my breasts, dipping low between them and giving just enough of a peek to be sexy, but not enough to look overdone. It fits my upper body like a second skin, but it flows down to my feet in a soft flare. It doesn’t have a massively long train either. It’s simple. Elegant. Timeless. I know when I look back at pictures of me in this dress, I won’t think, “Oh my God, what was I thinking?” And that’s the most important part.

  When all the dresses are gone, I go into his office and he looks up at me with surprise.

  “Did you find something you liked?”

  I nod and smile. “I did. I think you’ll love it.”

  He smiles wide. “I’ll love anything you choose.”

  I slip into his lap. “What have you been doing in here?”

  “Oh, just going over some files. Hey, there’s an event we’ve been invited to this weekend. I thought it would be nice to get our minds off the wedding for a while and just have fun. What do you think?” He looks up at me, hopeful.

  “What kind of event is it?” I ask, unsure.

  “It’s just an engagement party for an old friend.”

  “So your father won’t be there?” I ask.

  He frowns. “I’m not sure. He may be there. It’s sort of a mutual friend, but we can’t let him dictate our lives. If there’s something we want to do, we should do it without a second thought.”

  I let out a long breath. “I don’t know, Matthew. I’m just worried that something will be said and a fight will break out, ruining the party.”

  “My father is nothing but polite in public. I promise he won’t say anything about us if other people are around. Come on. What do you say?” he asks, shaking me against his chest in a playful way.

  I can’t help but laugh. His smile is infectious. “All right. I’ll go.”

  “Good! You’ll need a dress.”

  “Oh no. Not that again.”
>
  He chuckles. “I’ll order one for you. You won’t have to do anything but put it on.”

  “Now you’re talking my language,” I laugh out.

  Twenty-Six

  Matthew

  The weekend quickly approaches, as it always does when I’m spending time with her. I’m actually looking forward to this party. It’s been a long time since I saw and hung out with the guys I grew up with, and for once, I feel like my life is going according to plan. Before, I’d avoid these type of things, not wanting to show up because everyone but me would be talking about their amazing life. But finally, my life is great. I have a beautiful woman on my arm who’s about to be my wife, and we’re about to start a wonderful life together. I have nothing to hide.

  I dress in my tux and slick back my hair, applying a squirt of cologne before exiting my room. I expect to find Poppy already waiting for me, but I should’ve guessed she’d be having problems with the dress. I walk down the hall and knock on her door. “Poppy, you about ready?”

  “Can you zip me up?” she asks from the other side.

  I open the door and step inside, finding her spinning in circles like a dog chasing its tail. I laugh as I step up to her and she stops spinning. I place my hand on the zipper at her lower back and pull it up. The dress zips up perfectly and smoothly, just like I knew it would.

  “I do have an eye for dress sizes,” I say, leaning in and kissing her neck.

  She blushes. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

  I let my eyes rake up and down her body, taking her in. It’s a black dress that hugs her body and curves to perfection. It’s sleeveless and has a plunging neckline. The back is open, sexy.

  “Looking at you now, I’d say it’s a good thing,” I reply, holding out my elbow. She takes it and I lead her out of the room and to the door. “I’ve hired a limo for us tonight. I thought it would be appropriate for the occasion.”

  “A limo? That sounds pretty fancy.”

  “Well, where we’re going is fancy, hence the formal dress,” I remind her.

  We make it downstairs and outside to where the limo is waiting. The driver sees us coming and opens the back door. I allow her to slide in first, then climb in behind her. The door is shut and we’re surrounded in darkness, only lit by the soft running lights along the top.

  “Would you like some champagne?”

  “I’d love some. Thank you,” she replies. I pop the bottle and pour some into both glasses.

  I hand her glass over and she takes the tiniest of sips. She’s still not big on drinking, but in my world, alcohol is everywhere—at every dinner, every party. So she’s come around to the taste and she can hold a glass or two.

  “This is amazing,” she says, looking around.

  “First time in a limo?”

  “Yes and no. It’s my first time in this type of limo. A bunch of friends rented a stretch Hummer once to drive us from bar to bar. It was cool, but this is elegant and fancy.” She looks over at me and I see the darkness in her eyes. I lean in and kiss her, and she isn’t greedy. She gives me everything in this kiss.

  “I should rent us a limo more often,” I say, more to myself.

  She giggles but lets the subject drop as we enjoy our champagne and get closer to the venue.

  “Where are we going anyway?”

  “Chez Wedding Venue,” I reply. “Very upscale and fancy. The more I think about it, the happier I am that you chose the island for our wedding.”

  She smiles. “I think it’s perfect for us.”

  “I agree.”

  Soon we’re standing in a massive all-white room that’s decorated beautifully. There’s a big staircase with glass railings and flowers along every step. Tables are set up with white tablecloths, big bouquets in the center, and hundreds of little lights hanging everywhere. Everything is beautiful, fancy, and rich.

  “Would you like to get something to eat?” I ask as we’re walking by the buffet-style dinner table.

  “I’m fine for now, thank you,” she replies, walking alongside me.

  I introduce her to a few family friends and everything is fine. But then we notice my father, and I can feel her back stiffen beside me. He sees us as he’s talking with a group of friends, and he says something I can’t hear given how far away we are, but then he heads in our direction.

  “He’s coming over here,” she whispers.

  “Just brace yourself. He won’t say anything out of line tonight.”

  We stand, waiting for my father to approach. He finally does as he offers me a handshake. “Matthew, how have you been?” he asks very formally.

  “I’m well. And yourself?”

  He nods curtly. “Very well. I’m glad to see you could make it. The Rich family means a lot to me and the family.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it.” I look around. “I’m surprised Gran isn’t here.”

  “Oh, well, you know how she is. She’s avoiding me and everything I may attend.” He tips up his glass and takes a swig. “Anyway, carry on.” He walks off and I feel Poppy let out a long breath she must have been holding.

  “Let’s dance,” I say, pulling her to the dance floor.

  I spin her around so she lands softly against my chest, and I hold her close as I begin to lead.

  “That’s a relief,” she breathes out.

  “Nah, it’s all about who’s around to witness. And my father is not a fan of witnesses. He couldn’t not address me. Then the rumor mill would churn with possible family drama. He can’t have anyone thinking that.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t even begin to understand how someone can live a life worrying about other people’s opinions, or how someone can try so hard to keep up appearances.”

  “Welcome to the life I grew up in,” I respond.

  She lets the conversation drop as we dance, and I can tell she isn’t comfortable here, but I keep trying to get her to forget everyone else and just focus on having a good time with me like we always do.

  After we dance, we find a table to rest at for a bit. A few more people come over to talk, including my father’s old friend, Jefferson, and his new, young wife, Tabitha. Jefferson is my father’s age. Tabitha’s around 21. Yeah, that’s a gold digger if I ever saw one. But I don’t point it out. I just keep up with the conversation, keeping things light. Nothing serious is discussed, as is the norm at these types of parties. Poppy and Tabitha sit and chat a while and they seem to be hitting it off. I hear a few giggles and laughs as I talk with Jefferson.

  When the couple leaves, Poppy excuses herself to use the restroom, leaving me alone. I hope she hurries, because I fear having to talk to one of my exes since a couple of them are also in attendance. While she’s gone, I focus on enjoying my drink while taking in the party, looking at faces, and trying to remember why I ever tried so hard to be a part of this world. I haven’t done this type of thing in years, and now I’m suddenly seeing why. I try to look at everything from Poppy’s point of view as an outsider. People wear fake smiles, fake laugh, and pretend everything’s perfect. I could point out 10 guys right now who are having affairs on the wives who are on their arms, pretending their whole life is perfect. Now more than ever, I want nothing to do with these people. I want to live a normal life—a happy life where I come home every night to the woman I love. I want happy children who feel like they have it all because they have two parents who love them.

  I’m far past my limit of pretenses for the evening, so as soon as Poppy exits the restroom, I’m taking her home where we can get started on that life, not this one.

  My father comes up to me and pats me on the shoulder. “Come with me,” he says.

  “Dad, I’m just about to head out. I don’t have time for this.”

  He stops walking away and spins around to face me. “Matthew, there is someone here I’d like to introduce you to. Please, come with me.”

  To keep from making a scene, I get up and follow him over to a group of men. “Gent
lemen, this is my son, Matthew Lewis III.” He smiles proudly. “Matthew, these are my old college buddies, Frank, Jim, Barry, and Justin Burns.”

  Justin Burns? That’s a name I recognize. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” I say, moving in to shake their hands.

  “We’ve heard a lot about you,” one of the men says. “You sure do make your father proud.”

  I let out a bitter laugh. “I doubt that.”

  My father places his hand on my shoulder. “Now, son, don’t be modest. I’m very proud of you and what you do. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you’re opening your own law office.”

  “Well, you’ve invested in his business, I’m sure,” another guy says.

  “Of course. He knows as soon as he’s ready for that next step, he doesn’t have to go to anyone but me,” Dad gushes like he wasn’t just telling me my soon-to-be wife wasn’t good enough.

  I can’t just stand here and take these lies built upon lies. I can’t even keep them straight anymore. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I must go. Please carry on,” I say, interrupting their talk. Dad gives me an angry scowl, but I turn my back on him like he’s done to me so many times. I walk away, looking for Poppy. I was wrong to bring her here. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.

  Twenty-Seven

  Poppy

  I’m sitting on the toilet with my elegant dress bundled up around me when two women walk into the restroom. They don’t know I’m here, and I don’t bother revealing myself, especially after I hear them mention Matthew’s name.