Boss Unavowed: A Love On the Rocks Romance (The Boss Series Book 2)

by Nicole R. Locker

  He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say I got into the technology business. I’d say the technology business got into me,” he said, bringing his glass up to his lips and taking a small sip.

  “I see. Well, you certainly have a knack for the business. You’re a natural.”

  He shook his head. “Rayner Technologies was established as a means to make money and keep me out of trouble. Trouble,” he emphasized, “is what I have a knack for.”

  A wide smile spread across her face. She reached over and set her glass down on the table in front of them. Then she leaned in toward Rogan, reaching for the collar of his button-down shirt. He didn’t move but watched her with bored disinterest.

  “Well, now that we have business out of the way for the night, what would you say to a little… fun?” she said, trailing her fingers down the thin fabric of his shirt, down his chest, in the path of his buttons.

  A mischievous gleam tinted her eyes, along with the haze from her Merlot.

  The hand that wasn’t holding his drink reached up to grab both of her hands and lock them in his vise grip.

  “What are you doing, Edith?”

  With her hands constricted, she moved her body in closer, crossing one leg over both of his and planting her plush, scantily clad ass into his lap. The way he had her arms locked together and the angle she now sat in caused her generous cleavage to press together and upward, making it impossible to be ignored.

  “You’re an intelligent man, Rogan. I don’t think it’s hard to figure out.”

  She rubbed her ass smoothly into his legs, and he worked hard to keep the twitch in his cock at bay. She was only getting started, though, he could see, unless he shut it down fast.

  “I think you’ve gotten the wrong idea about our relationship,” he said, still unmoving. He wasn’t going to back down like a retreating dog. He knew that would only lead to a chase he was interested in leading. Instead, he faced her like he faced all his challenges, head on.

  “What idea do you think I have?” she asked, also not backing down. Instead, she pressed her firm, round breasts into his chest and hovered her lips dangerously close to his. Her eyes locked on his and didn’t let go.

  He had to stifle his inclination to push her off him and give her a tongue thrashing in a much different way than she was clearly hoping for. No, he had to handle this delicately, something he was not accustomed to, or he was about to lose one of the best marketing professionals his company had ever seen. His usual tactics wouldn’t work in this situation because he was used to only dealing with male employees. Had he been dealing with a man, he wouldn’t have been in this precarious position in the first place, and he cursed himself for breaking his previous rule to never hire women.

  Farren flashed into his mind. Fuck.

  “Clearly, you’ve overestimated your reach,” he said, leaning forward to set his drink down, which forced her to lean backward with him.

  She took his movement as a sign that he was playing along, and her smile widened. Her eyes worked their way down and honed in on his lips. Her tongue darted out, and she licked her own lips in anticipation before meeting his eyes again.

  “What’s a little fun between two consenting adults?” she said without averting her gaze.

  “Maybe you weren’t aware, Edith, and maybe you aren’t as perceptive as I had initially given you credit for, but I’m not a single man.”

  “Oh, I’m aware. I’m also aware there’s no ring on your finger, and there’s no one else here to ever have to know. Let’s not make this more than what it has to be,” she urged.

  He held her gaze for a moment. What was a little fun between consenting adults? Sure, she was beautiful, lithe, and sharp. They were alone in a private hotel room with no one else around and no chance of being caught. What was a hot-blooded male supposed to do with a hot piece of ass that literally fell right into his lap that no one would ever have to know about?

  *

  The Convention Center was crowded with people, television screens, and bright, vivid displays as Farren walked through the narrow walkways of the Houston Gamercon Gaming Convention. She realized she felt a bit strange being there alone, especially when the only place she’d gone without the baby in tow in the two months since he’d been born had been to work.

  She almost felt like a shadow of her old self for a moment, and she didn’t quite know if it felt good or uncomfortable now.

  She walked around, stopping in at various displays to test new games, and maneuvered around the masses of smiling strangers, some dressed in various game character costumes. She was about to walk up on a VirtualReality Expo when she heard someone call her name.

  She turned around in time to see Raphe walking up to her wearing a black, throw-back Sonic the Hedgehog tee-shirt with a loose-fitting pair of faded jeans and a pair of green Vans tied loosely on his feet. His hair was mussed, and he smelled like the cologne they sold at PacSun.

  “You made it,” he observed, and he stopped just in front of her.

  She felt shy all of a sudden but nodded. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  “Did you just get here?”

  “Um, no, I’ve been here about a half-hour. You?”

  He lifted a bag he was holding, packed full of pamphlets, posters, and other swag. “Nah, I’ve been here a while now. I was just about to leave, but… if you want to stick around for a while, I think they were about to do a big reveal on a new X-Box game over in Auditorium One.”

  He angled his body around in the direction of Auditorium One without taking his eyes off Farren as if to encourage her to go along with him.

  “Okay, sure,” she agreed, and they walked side-by-side, maneuvering through the crowd together to get there.

  After some time spent beta-testing the new game and a few more stops at various displays, Farren yawned.

  “You’re not tired, are you?” Raphe teased. “You want to go grab a coffee or something?”

  Up to that point, Farren had felt comfortable around Raphe. He had a laidback and easy-going personality. He smiled when he talked, and he seemed passionate about things she was interested in. The conversation came easy, and it felt more like she was hanging out with an old friend than a stranger she’d just met a couple days ago, but when he asked her to get coffee, a red flag went up in her mind.

  It was one thing to be there in the midst of busy crowds, but leaving to get coffee with just the two of them felt a little more intimate than she knew would be right.

  Then again, her thoughts went to Rogan on his business trip with Edith. It was already after nine o’clock in the evening, and he still hadn’t bothered to call or text her. She didn’t want to think about it. She’d finally gotten her mind off of things and was enjoying herself, even if the dull, nagging feeling remained persistent in the depths of her thoughts. She wasn’t ready for the temporary distraction to end, not yet.

  “Okay, one coffee,” Farren agreed, holding up one finger. “But just as friends?”

  Raphe smirked with a confused look for a split second, and then said, “Sure. Let’s go.”

  They walked out of the Convention Center and crossed the street to a local, mom and pop coffee house.

  TWELVE

  Rogan stepped out into the hallway from Edith’s room adjusting his disheveled clothes. He shook his head with squinted eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose above where his glasses rested.

  What the hell just happened? He thought.

  He went back to his own room and tried to focus on work. Between what had just happened with Edith and what he was planning to do before they left New York the following morning, he was on edge and needed a drink much stronger than the flimsy Merlot Edith had tried pushing.

  He walked to the wet bar of his own ritzy hotel room and saw that it was only stocked with the customary, miniature bottles of various spirits. He shook his head, thinking he’d just try to get some sleep and put this whole night behind him. He showered and climbed into bed wearing boxer briefs and the
crinkles that set in his furrowed brow.

  His mind went to Farren, and he thought about calling her to see how she and Harley’s day had gone. Then he thought better of it, knowing she was still pissed at him for coming to New York and not taking her with him if her radio silence the entire day had been any indication.

  She had certainly made it a point to stay away the previous night, burying herself in some video game rather than coming to bed with him. If that woman’s technical brain didn’t turn him on so fucking bad, he’d probably have tossed that game in the trash and carried her to bed caveman style with her kicking and screaming if he had to, but he had let it go, giving her some time to come to grips with the whole thing.

  He knew she wouldn’t have the slightest clue what he had planned, and that was good because he wanted to keep it that way, at least for now.

  He dozed off in the dark, lonely silence of the hotel room, and just like any time he went to bed without Farren in his arms, the nightmares came.

  *

  11 Years Ago

  Dusk was just setting in when the men approached the dilapidated, run-down neighborhood on their rumbling bikes. They slowed when they got to the entrance of a trailer park, and Hugo waved his hand back to motion for them to get into formation.

  It was the time of day the seedy residents of this place were just getting out and about to start the hustle under the cover of night. Once they heard the thunderous roar of the five bikes, they’d know something was up, so the men had to work fast. It was go-time.

  They rounded the corner and shot through the dirt driveway, past rows of trailer houses, until they got to the one they were looking for, number 402. Craigan, Dean, and Bull stayed put on their bikes while Hugo and Rogan each took a side of the house to get in from, Hugo taking the front door and Rogan taking the back.

  Rogan waited until he heard a muffled crash indicating Hugo had busted through the front door, and that’s when everything started happening at once.

  Rogan kicked in the back door and burst inside, witnessing the commotion that was already going on among the filth and debris that littered the inside of the home. Hugo was running through a hallway, kicking piles of laundry from his boots, and Rogan followed until he heard Hugo yell in front of him.

  “He’s out the window! Go-Go-Go!”

  Hugo turned around and an urgent, angry look marred wrinkles into his face as he tore back through the hall. He grabbed Rogan by the arm and pulled him along just long enough to get him turned back around as well, and both men went sprinting out the back door in pursuit of Tommy the Tank.

  They heard as Craigan, Dean, and Bull gave chase behind an old, beat-up pickup truck that had come barreling out from around the back of the house and left a thick cloud of dirt in its wake as it shot through the dirt driveway, fishtailing out onto the street.

  Hugo and Rogan ran back to their bikes and set off after them, weaving around the dirt cloud that had already begun to settle. They could see their crew up ahead and raced to catch up.

  When the truck screeched around a turn to head through a residential neighborhood, it gave them the gain they needed on him. Rogan came up and around to get right up on the bumper. He looked over at Craigan and motioned for his brother to take the passenger side while he took the driver’s side. Hugo would keep the rear while Dean and Bull would get around him at the front, surrounding him and forcing him to a stop.

  Rogan took the left to ride up on the driver’s side, but as Tommy the Tank came into view, Rogan could see him pointing a pistol out the passenger side door with his right hand. He looked over at Craigan pulling up on that side.

  “No!” Rogan yelled, realizing what was about to happen, but it was too late.

  He could hear the blast of the gun just as the truck swerved and overcorrected momentarily as Rogan watched it all play out in slow motion.

  “No!” he roared out again, watching Craigan’s bike lose control and topple over, sending him skidding sideways over the rough, unforgiving surface of the road.

  Rogan swerved into the overcorrection to reduce the impact of Tommy the Tank’s truck hitting him, knocking him and his bike over with, thankfully, minimal damage. The handlebar had just missed his eye and left a bleeding cut across his right brow along with a smaller cut below his lip and some scrapes here and there, but he ignored his own injuries, jumping back on the bike.

  He rushed back toward Craigan, dismounting his bike carelessly as he ran to his friend’s side. Craigan had been tossed from the bike from the momentum of the fall and was lying motionless in a bloody heap on the side of the street.

  Overwhelming panic shot through Rogan as he saw the blood pouring out of Craigan’s broken body. When he got to him, he didn’t know whether to move him, for fear that he might cause even more damage.

  “Craigan! Craigan, can you hear me?” he shouted, grabbing a handful of his friend’s leather jacket.

  He saw Craigan’s eyes flutter open, which was only a small relief.

  Rogan grabbed the cell phone from an inner pocket of his own leather jacket and dialed for an ambulance, frantically ordering them to hurry.

  He tossed his phone aside and urged Craigan to hold on.

  “Stay with me, brother. Fucking stay with me.”

  His voice was shaky. Craigan wasn’t just his brother, he was all Rogan had.

  “I should’ve taken the passenger side. I shouldn’t have told you to take that side. Craigan?”

  Craigan shook his head in the smallest of movements. In a weakened, raspy voice, he said, “Take care of… Elaina and… Dallas.”

  Rogan shook his head with vehemence. “No! Don’t do this! You’re going to make it, just hold on. Help is coming, just hold on.”

  “Especially… Dallas. He,” Craigan winced and hissed in a gasp of air. “He needs it… most.”

  “Listen to me; you’re going to be fine. Don’t you fucking dare check out on me, not now,” Rogan demanded through gritted teeth. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

  Craigan’s breathing was becoming more labored by the second.

  “The… girl. She’s… still… there.” He paused to gather what strength he had left. “Go back for… the girl.”

  Rogan thought back for a moment. The girl – the one they had been trying to save from fucking Tommy the Tank. He shook his head.

  “No, I’m not leaving you. I’m right here, Craigan, stay with me.”

  But it was too late. Rogan looked on as the life escaped from his friend’s eyes. Craigan was gone.

  THIRTEEN

  Sitting in a booth across from Raphe, Farren listened to a muted rendition of Bon Jovi crooning about giving love a bad name, the third in a succession of eighties music songs that had been playing since they’d arrived. Raphe was casually going on about strange customer encounters he’d experienced working at GameStop, but even with the light conversation and the seeming lack of expectations he had of her, she continued to feel uneasy about being there.

  “So what’s your story?” Raphe asked after taking a sip from his cup. He licked his tongue across his top lip to remove the layer of foam that had collected there.

  “My story?”

  “Yeah, are you seeing anyone?”

  He looked at her intently, already leaning forward in his seat.

  A nervous laugh preceded her answer. “Well… yes, I guess you could say that.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound too confident.”

  She sighed and covered her face with her hands. Then she looked back up and gave it to him straight.

  “I’ve been seeing someone for about a year now, kind of. Well, it’s been about a year since we first… um, got together. We kind of work together.”

  “Ouch,” he said. “Dipping the pen in the company ink.” He nodded his head, but he still had a smile, so she continued.

  “It gets better. He’s also my boss,” she admitted, making his eyes go wide.

  “You’re dating your boss?” His smil
e remained, but disbelief was clear on his face.

  She nodded. “Oh, that’s not even the best part.” She was almost getting a kick out of Raphe’s reaction, knowing how it would undoubtedly look to an outsider.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask. What’s the best part?”

  She could tell he was eager to find out, but she knew this would be the part that would probably send him running for the hills, which would probably be for the best if she was being honest.

  Instead of telling him, she pulled out her cell phone and pulled up a picture of Harley. She slid it across the table for him to see and watched for his reaction.

  He was quiet at first. Then he looked up at her. “You’re a mom?”

  Farren nodded her affirmation.

  “Wow,” he said. He was quiet for a few seconds. “So what’s his name?”

  “Harley,” she beamed.

  “Harley,” Raphe repeated. “I like that name. So… where’s your man tonight?”

  Her gaze went down to where her fingers fidgeted in front of her on the table, and she felt the sinking feeling in her chest radiate in full force again. She sighed heavily.

  “He’s in New York on business.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” Raphe asked, dipping his head down to try to catch her eye contact once more.

  She shook her head and then pursed her lips. “He didn’t go alone.”

  She didn’t expand on that, and his look of realization and sympathy set in before he reached across the table and placed his hands on hers.

  “I’m sorry,” he said with sincerity in his eyes. “Is there anything I can do?”

  She pulled her hands away as gracefully as she could manage without offending him. Then she ran her fingers through her long strands, feigning a nervous gesture to play it off. Really, she just felt wrong on so many levels letting him touch her like that with such tenderness and concern. Even if Rogan was betraying her, retaliating in such a way just made her feel sick with herself.

  Her phone rang, still lying on the table between them, and she welcomed the distraction. She couldn’t deny the hope that it would be Rogan finally calling. She reached to pick it up and saw Gramma’s number instead. That brought about a whole new wave of dread. Gramma wouldn’t normally bother her while she was out, unless…