Conflict of Interest (Employee Relations Book 1)

by Teresa Michaels

  Kill him with kindness. Kill him with kindness.

  I repeat this mantra over and over until I feel grounded. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where I sit.”

  I push off my desk and circle back to my seat before I act on my impulse to kiss or choke the shit out of him. What on earth does Jack see in him? His presence, pacing back and forth in front of the door catches my attention.

  “Was there something else that you needed?” I ask sweetly.

  He eyes me apprehensively. “What was it that you wanted to tell me, Gabriella?”

  “Are you asking for help, Lukie?”

  He balks at his nickname before that impassive mask is back in full force. “What? No.”

  “Then I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” I continue smiling and bat my eyes for effect.

  Read your email, jackass…and have a nice weekend.

  Frustrated, I get back to work. Around seven o’clock, Lucas’s door shuts. I glance up and watch as he pauses ever so briefly in front of my door, his eyes fixated on the carpet under his feet. He must decide whatever he was contemplating saying or doing wasn’t worth it because he’s was gone before I can ask him if he needs anything. What did I expect him to say, anyway? The man despises me and seems incapable of accepting help. And even though I wanted to deny it, I’m still desperate for him to let me in. I’m a nurturer to a fault.

  Annoyed with myself for caring too much, I pack up my own things and text Summer and Kyra. A night out with my girls is exactly what I need.

  “Why did I let you drag me to this?” I pout, all the blood rushing to my pounding head.

  Summer gracefully slides from downward dog into cobra. I, on the other hand, nearly face plant. She’s has always been into yoga—me and Kyra, not so much. I’m more of a runner than a group exercise sort of person, which is evident by how my body currently resembles a human pretzel.

  Isn’t this supposed to be relaxing?

  “Because you owe me after last night. Plus, you’re in desperate need of a release, and you’re not getting it anywhere else.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” I mutter.

  “Besides, mine and Brad’s anniversary is coming up next month and he mentioned taking me away somewhere. I want to be in the best shape ever.”

  I have to laugh. Her body can’t possibly get any better.

  Summer shushes me. “Hey, I danced my ass off with you until 2AM. Suck it up.”

  She’s got a point but my raging hangover doesn’t care. I should have drunk more water when I got home. At twenty-six years old you’d think I’d know how to avoid the side effects of drinking my troubles away.

  “How’d she sucker you into this?” I turn and ask Kyra.

  “Did you get a good look at the instructor? God, I want to squeeze that ass just to see if it’s as firm as it looks.”

  I glance at the instructor, squinting to get a better look. “Is he half Asian?”

  “What?” Kyra hisses loudly.

  Summer glares at me as everyone’s attention zooms in on us, including the instructor who looks more Italian than anything.

  “Huh, I guess not.” I can’t stop giggling.

  “Bitch,” Kyra whispers, hiding a smirk of her own.

  After yoga’s finished, and Kyra has secured the instructor’s phone number, we shower and go to breakfast. Being that it’s a weekend, the place is packed.

  I slide into the booth and peruse the menu, though I already know what I’m getting. Eggs benedict with an extra side of Hollandaise sauce and a bottomless cup of coffee.

  We place our order and discuss our plans for the weekend. At some point I must have checked out because when I look up they’re both staring at me.

  “What just happened there?” Summer asks.

  “Huh?”

  “You completely zoned out,” Kyra explains, and then turns to Summer. “She needs to get laid.”

  “I do not.” The looks on their faces must mirror my inner thoughts. “Alright, I do. Short of a one-night stand, that won’t be happening any time soon.”

  “I’d vote for a one-nighter, but I’m officially done with those.”

  Sure, Kyra’s been a bit more casual with relationships than Summer and I have been, but this qualifies as news. “Um…have you had many?”

  Kyra casually lifts her shoulder. “Three, if you count Thursday night. Trust me, it will never happen again.”

  “What happened?”

  “I met this guy while waiting for my date, who was an hour late by the way. We had a drink and by the time my date texted that he’d be there in ten minutes I’d already had two drinks with this hottie. God, he was such a good kisser. I just wanted more, you know? Anyway, I was a little buzzed and completely annoyed so we left together.”

  Summer drops the origami swan she’s making from the paper placemat and we both lean forward, elbows resting on the table, waiting for Kyra to continue.

  “So we got to his place and he went in for the kill. I was feeling it, but hello…foreplay. He skipped over it like he was in a race. I went with it assuming he’d make up for it in other ways…I mean the man could kiss. But, what a disappointment,” she shivers as if reliving an unpleasant experience. “He had the tiniest dick, I couldn’t even feel it.” Kyra leans forward and whispers, “and ethnically speaking I’m supposed to have an insanely tight vagina so that’s really saying something.”

  Kyra’s completely serious and horrified. “So, after twenty-two seconds, and yes I counted, he told me he was close, to hurry up and then demanded I come with him as he kept calling me ‘baby’. I didn’t even have time to fake it. He finished and rolled off me before we hit the half-minute mark. I shit you not. I was still trying to process what the hell happened when his mom walked in and started screaming at me to get out of her house.”

  Summer and I burst out laughing.

  “I can’t believe you counted,” I say.

  “I can’t believe he lived with his mom,” Summer replies.

  “Hello,” Kyra scrutinizes the two of us with aggravation. “Did you miss the most important part of this story? He commanded that I orgasm after twenty-two seconds!”

  “What, you don’t do that?” I deadpan.

  “If that actually happened, I’d sit in my office for hours on end, talking to my pussy,” Kyra admits.

  “Eww,” I throw a handful of sugar packets in her direction.

  “Like you wouldn’t?” she challenges.

  “She totally would,” Summer chimes in, and then considers her own words. “Only, it’s been so long she wouldn’t leave her bedroom long enough to get to work.”

  “Can we please stop discussing—”

  “Your cobwebs?”

  “Shut it. Just because you’re getting it consistently,” I point at Summer. “And you have loose morals,” I direct at Kyra. “Doesn’t mean I have cobwebs.”

  “We should go to a sex toy store and get you some supplies. You know, for…dusting.”

  “The two vibrators you bought me for Christmas are still in their boxes. I don’t need to add more to my collection.”

  “Use them already,” Kyra pleads.

  “Brad’s friend asks about you all the time. Let me set you two up. We can double-date,” Summer suggests.

  My friends—I love them dearly. Really, I do. “My vajayjay and I appreciate your concern,” I tell them, dramatically placing my hand over my heart. “But I’m all set. No blind dates or battery-operated devices necessary. I just haven’t met anyone recently worth getting horizontal with.”

  “And if you keep working such long hours you never will,” Summer adds.

  “Speaking of work, are you having any luck with the Irish?” Kyra smirks.

  I groan at the same time my skin tingles. “Don’t get me started. He’s an arrogant prick.”

  “Is he magically delicious?” Kyra adds with a wink and we all laugh.

  “Ha ha. Anything he has going for him in the looks department is ruined by
his personality. There are these moments where I see his charisma and glimmers of compassion but they’re few and far between. For some reason he can’t stand the sight of me. It’s only been a month but I’ve clearly rubbed him the wrong way.”

  “Maybe you should rub him the right way,” Summer wags her eyebrows suggestively.

  I sigh, knowing she’s kidding. Hopefully she can’t tell that the same thought has crossed my mind many nights.

  “Riiiiggght. I imagine he’d be more selfish than your one-nighter, Kyra. The man can barely hold a conversation; I doubt he’d know the first thing about giving someone pleasure. But if it meant he’d lighten up and drop the arrogant routine, I’d be happy to drop my panties in exchange.”

  Behind me someone coughs, followed by a quiet, “You all right, sir?”

  “Shit. Was that loud?” I whisper and they both giggle, taking bites of their breakfast. Feeling movement in the booth behind me, I push my food around my plate, not wanting to make eye contact with a stranger who’s heard my confession.

  “Wow,” Kyra remarks under her breath.

  “Morning, ladies.” A deep voice with an Irish lilt greets our table. “Gabriella.”

  I close my eyes and hold my breath. This had better be a nightmare. The embarrassment I felt moments ago was nothing compared this.

  Clearing my throat, I look to my friends for moral support. They’re both wide-eyed and speechless. A true rarity.

  Having no other option, I lift my eyes to meet his and force a smile. “Lucas, how nice to see you.”

  A mischievous glint flares in his eyes. I want to crawl under the table.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” He gestures to my friends across the table.

  “O-of course,” I stutter. “These are my friends, Summer and Kyra.”

  He shakes their hands. “I’m Lucas. Gabriella and I work together,” he states as if we actually work together, and then returns his attention to me.

  “Lucas, yes I think she may have mentioned you before,” Kyra says. I kick her under the table.

  A boyish grin spreads across his face, highlighting his perfect teeth. “All good things, I hope.”

  “Something like that,” she replies coyly.

  If my eyes could burn holes in her head the smoke alarms in this restaurant would be screeching. Hesitantly, I lift my gaze to Lucas, who for the first time since I’ve met him, actually seems to be enjoying himself.

  Figures it’d be at my expense.

  “I’d hate to be selfish and steal any more of your time ladies, so I’ll be off.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Lucas,” Summer replies, trying to conceal her amusement.

  “Believe me, the pleasure’s all mine.”

  Something exchanges between us and I nearly choke. If I had any doubt that he’d heard our conversation before, it’s crystal clear now that he did. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Gabriella.” He takes a step back and I release all the air in my lungs and then bury my face in my hands.

  “Oh, one more thing.” I lower my hands as Lucas bends towards me, handing me a rolled up magazine. “Thought you might find some of the articles beneficial.”

  He leaves and my eyes snap to the cover of the Men’s Health.

  10 Ways to Relieve Stress (Without Sex).

  “Well,” Summer says impatiently. “What does it say?”

  I hand it over and let them read for themselves.

  “You are in so much trouble,” Summer scolds, leaning forward. “Why didn’t you tell us he was hot as sin?”

  “Because he’s an epic dick.” I busy myself by stabbing the last two morsels of food on my plate, picturing Lucas’s face.

  “Yeah, and I bet he’s got an epic dick,” Kyra adds. “Did you see the size of his hands?” Kyra glances over her shoulder. “And that ass. He certainly knows how to wear a suit.”

  “You two aren’t helping.”

  “It’ll be fine. You don’t know how much he heard,” Summer downplays the exchange.

  “Seriously,” I gesture to the magazine on the table before them. “He heard me offer to screw him in exchange for him to stop being an ass.”

  “Ah,” Summer says. “Good ole quid pro quo.”

  “At least he has a good sense of humor,” Kyra chimes in. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Really, you wouldn’t worry if a coworker that despised you overheard how hard up you were for an orgasm, and that your two friends were trying to remedy that with a vibrator?”

  Pointing her fork at me, Summer adds, “And Brad’s friend.”

  The waitress comes by and asks to refill our coffees. “None for me, thanks.” My heart’s still pounding. The last thing I need is more caffeine.

  “All kidding aside,” Kyra says. “I sensed some major tension between the two of you. It was kind of hot.”

  I roll my eyes. What a joke. Sure there’s been a few instances where I thought he was interested. It had to be my imagination though. No one treats a person they’re attracted to like shit unless they’re in grade school.

  “So?”

  I blink. “So, what?”

  “How bad do you want his shillelagh?” Kyra questions as if I know what the hell a shillelagh is.

  “Huh?”

  “You know, his knobstick?” I shake my head at her attempt to clarify. “It’s an Irish walking stick. Made of wood. Do I seriously need to explain this to you?”

  “Fine. Yes. I’m seriously attracted to him. It’s not like I can or would do anything about it. We have a strict non-fraternizing policy.”

  “Those don’t always hold up in court, you know,” Kyra pointedly informs me—always the lawyer.

  “Have either of you heard a word I’ve said?”

  “Loud and clear, hun. I just didn’t picture him looking like that, or anticipate that chemistry. Kyra’s right.”

  “Believe me, it’s all one-sided. Besides, I don’t want to want him. Like I said, asshole.”

  “I agree,” Summer says. “Not that it’s one-sided. That you don’t want to go there. Way too messy.”

  Kyra shakes her head. “For the record, I disagree,”

  At least my friends are right about one thing. I do need to get laid.

  I wipe my hands on the cloth napkin in my lap. “You know what? Have Brad call his friend.”

  Remembering that Lucas has a client visit in New York City next week, I thank my lucky stars that at least I won’t be seeing him for a few days. I’ll have to face him eventually, and if I wasn’t so keyed up it would probably help.

  The girls and I part ways after breakfast, Kyra to go veg out at her place, and Summer to spend the rest of her weekend with Brad. I need to find something to occupy my time ASAP to stop myself form obsession over my morning encounter with Lucas. When he’s around it’s like I’m having an out of body experience. I don’t know what to make of it. You’d think I’d be tired from a late night of drinking and early morning yoga.

  No such luck.

  I take a deep breath and give myself a pep talk as I walk home. So he knows I have a few unused vibrators and that I haven’t gotten any in a while. Who cares? That could describe half the women in America. And so what if I called him a prick? It’s not a lie or even an exaggeration. He IS a prick. A hot prick, who as my friends so kindly reminded me, has enormous hands. Hands that have touched my thigh and face. Both times eliciting a response from me that took me by surprise and that I’d willingly accept again.

  Checking my watch, I note I have two hours to burn until my parents will be at the restaurant preparing to open. With everything going on at work I haven’t had an opportunity to talk to my mom and I’m excited to update her on the program I’ve spearheaded at work. Until then, I need to do something to block out the embarrassing memory of my morning.

  The only way I’ll be able to turn my mind off is to exhaust myself. I grab my ear buds from my apartment and find a distracting play-list, determined to run until I drop.

&n
bsp; Five miles later I’m drenched in sweat and worn out. Mission accomplished. Too tired to climb the stairs, I take the elevator the few floors and nearly crawl to the apartment. I guzzle a bottled water and wait for shower to get slightly above freezing. When I’m done, I quickly change and grab an Uber to the North End.

  DiVergilio’s opened over sixty years ago, serving fine Italian cuisine in Boston’s North End, widely known as Little Italy to the locals. My first memories took place here and a good portion of them are documented in photos on the back wall; it’s like a second home.

  The aroma that billows from the kitchen is among the most comforting smells. My stomach growls as I push my way through the swinging doors and make my way to the office. The back of my mother hunched over a chair, rubbing her head fills me with sorrow. She works too hard, both here and at home. I’m so worried she’s going to get sick again, which is exactly why I’m here.

  “Hey, Mom. I’m glad I found you back here. Can you take a break?”

  She immediately straightens, forcing a gentle smile when we come face to face. It crosses my mind to ask if she’s okay, but it’s pointless. She’s not okay and she’d never admit to being anything less than fine.

  “Gabby!” she beams. Grabbing me by the face she kisses both cheeks before wrapping her fragile arms around me. “You aren’t supposed to work tonight.”

  “You telling me I need an excuse to be with my family?” I tease. Mom rolls her eyes. “Fine, I didn’t have any plans and had good news to share.”

  At this she perks up.

  “A promotion? New boyfriend? What!”

  “Sorry to disappoint you but this isn’t about a boy. Remember a few months back when I told you about the Elder Care Program I was hoping to implement?” My mother nods. “It’s been really well received. Jack’s going to bring it to the board for approval at the next meeting.”

  She tilts her head and processes this. “What are you saying, Gabby?”

  “That if everything goes through I can get grandma into the Alzheimer’s program at Recollections for a discounted rate, even though I’m not the one that provides her day-to-day care. The director of the facility called me the other day because they are on the list of places we’re partnering with and they actually have an opening.”