Bachelor Heart

by Regina Morris

  An ex–secretary.

  An unemployed, ex–secretary, who had not heard about the scholarship being renewed for her son. So an unemployed and penniless ex–secretary. A woman who missed her target objective since Daniel had still made it to the top of that damn list.

  She was pathetic.

  “I’m sorry that things with your boss didn’t work out.” Deborah’s phone buzzed from the kitchen counter where it was charging, the familiar ring tone signaling it was Daniel and not Josh—both of whom had called her several times.

  “He keeps calling.” Sue retrieved the phone and brought it over. Looking at the display, she added, “Josh texted too. He wants to know if you’re all right.” She handed the phone to Deb, but she wouldn’t take it.

  She didn’t want to talk to her son right now. What was she supposed to say? Get another job because I suck as a mother and lost your hard-earned scholarship? Maybe she could confront Daniel and have him make good on the their deal, even though she completely failed on her end.

  Ugh! That would mean having to see him. She didn’t want to go back to that office. Definitely didn’t want to go back to his home. Other than officially turning her resignation in, she shouldn’t have to go through the humiliation.

  Sue texted on Deborah’s phone. “I’m telling Josh you’re doing better. He’s wondering if he should change his spring break plans and come home so…”

  “No.” Good Lord, she didn’t need him doing a marathon drive to Chicago during a busy drive-time like spring break. Every college kid was on the road, as well as families traveling across the country. Plus, Josh had been asked by a friend to vacation at a beach-front resort. He had been so excited, especially since the hotel was already paid for by his friend and all Josh had to expense was the gas money. He needed this vacation, especially after working so hard this semester. “Tell him I’m fine and not to come home.”

  Sue texted and hit send. She then placed the phone back on the charge station and began cleaning the mail and paperwork off the table. “Perhaps a trip out there to see him would do you some good. The problem is that you’ve been cooped up in your house for days.”

  No, the real problem was her and Daniel’s one–night stand which caused her to hide out. Why did she cave? She had remained strong for nearly two decades, and because of a silly diamond ring on her hand, she’d become a love–struck girl willing to spread her legs and sleep with her boss.

  She was as weak as the heroines of her book series.

  Billionaire bosses were married to their businesses and obsessed with the rush they felt with mergers and takeovers. The love of a good woman was only something they enjoyed for thirty minutes in bed before they kicked you out.

  Which was exactly what had happened except she and Daniel had made love for hours, and, technically, she was the one who left their bed—and in such a rush. What could he possibly be thinking of her? They enjoy a passionate night together and then she goes all crazy?

  Geez, he always said he did his best to avoid the psychos out there, and here she was—one of the crazies that came out of the woodwork. The man couldn’t have even seen this coming since she had kept her secret so well.

  But, secrets or not, she hadn’t learned anything from the affair nearly twenty years ago. So, she was a slut and an idiot.

  A cry escaped her throat, and she did her best to stifle it. Her night with Daniel meant so much more to her than just a tryst. She had sacrificed her professional life with him for a one–night stand that was no more than him satisfying an itch. He'd toss her aside and move on, just like his uncle had done.

  Her cell phone chirped, and she ignored it once again. It was Daniel. What did he want? To tell her that he needed her for the merger? That the office was a mess without her? Would it just be business as usual, or would he want a quick fling on the couch in his office for a few weeks and then show her to the door?

  She couldn’t even handle looking into his beautiful blue eyes any more. She would see that he got what he had wanted, and then those gorgeous eyes would gaze upon another woman—probably in her twenties—and Deborah would be asked to send herself a parting gift.

  “That’s it.” Sue grouped all the dishes so they were at least all around the sink and waiting to be cleaned. She then tugged at Deborah’s arm. “We’re going out to lunch.”

  Deborah shrugged her off. “Maybe tomorrow. I think I’ll go back to bed.”

  Sue’s eyes narrowed, and one hand rested on her hip. “I’m not going to have you wither away like this. Go upstairs, shower, and get dressed.” When Deborah didn’t answer, Sue added, “Listen Didi. I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and your boss. But you need to get your life back in order.”

  The word boss echoed in her mind. He was now her ex-boss.

  “I know. Things happen. It's just life.” Deborah had been saying that a lot to herself in an effort to believe it and move on. Deep down, she knew the expression wasn't working.

  Still wearing her pajamas, she was slowly becoming the clichéd, unemployed bum, who let themselves go with no plan or hope for the future. Invites like having lunch with your sister were important. She just didn't want to eat today.

  Wasn't that the epitome of being a couch potato?

  Sue pointed to the stack of paperwork on the kitchen table she had just cleaned up. “You don’t have to go see the man, but you should mail in your resignation later and then go file for unemployment. We should go to the Workforce Commission and see the job postings.”

  She really shouldn’t let another day slip by. Besides, now that she wasn't employed by Ellington–Weston, she wasn't receiving a paycheck, and Josh wouldn't be getting the next installment of his scholarship. She couldn't afford to be a lazy bum.

  Picking up the resignation letter which rested atop the stack. She sealed the envelop and grabbed a pen. “I’ll mail it today.” Her heart ached. She wasn’t just leaving Daniel, she really did love her job. She never thought she’d walk away from it.

  “That’s the spirit.” Sue said in a happy tone. “Go shower and get dressed. I’ll clean this kitchen and straighten the house.”

  Deborah stood. Lunch, resignation, then find another job. Deborah had picked herself up once before. She could do it again.

  29

  Daniel once again checked the video feeds of his home security cameras. The pictures buzzed to life on the monitors in his home office, showing him that, at dark–thirty in the morning, the stalking women already held their posts by his gate.

  The dwindling crowd proved to be hardcore. Some women stayed the night in the cold, and more arrived early the next morning to stalk him. Overall, there was a constant few dozen positioned at his gate at all times.

  Such a nuisance.

  He couldn’t even read a book in peace in his own home. Each time he glanced out a window he saw them spring to life, cameras ready, and shouting his name.

  Did women really think such a ploy would help them land a rich man? Were they looking for anything more than just to be treated to an overflowing bank account? Couldn’t they see that the were transparent in their desires and that no man would consider themselves lucky to have such attention?

  At the very least, his security gate held them back several feet away from his house. If it weren’t for the iron bars, he suspected a few of them might have tried to enter his home for a personal, private tour.

  Like that would ever happen.

  He needed to modify his daily commute to work again or stay in. He had stayed away from the office the last few days, but he should meet with people in regards to his company's merger.

  Work was always there. It'd be there tomorrow, too.

  He felt a tightening in his chest. Days had passed and the pain of her loss was still as bad as the day she left.

  Screw the merger. He needed a personal day.

  Dressed in comfortable jeans and a white, button–down shirt, he didn't want to fight the crowd of women who lined the entry of
his office building every morning, and he specifically wanted to avoid hiring another damn temp secretary.

  He grabbed Deborah's book from his desk and thumbed through it, causing the mailed–in resignation she had sent him—which he used as a bookmark—to tumble to the ground. She couldn't even call him. She’d just sent him a letter confirming that she’d quit.

  The yellow highlighted areas he had marked in the book colored the pages, and he had written more notes in the margin. Sections of the story mirrored his real life, or, at least, the dates he had gone on when he’d pretended to be engaged to Deborah. The last section of the novel, where the billionaire hero proposes to his assistant, was a part of the novel he had read repeatedly.

  A whine came from Oreo and he jumped up to lick Daniel’s face.

  “I’m okay, buddy.”

  Ginger now woke from her spot on the floor and followed her brother’s suit. The two hadn’t left his side in days.

  They knew he was unhappy, and like all dogs, they wanted to lick away the sorrow and make him happy once again.

  Daniel patted both on the head and held them at bay, his face now dripping with puppy saliva. “I’m just a little nervous. You don’t have to worry about me. In fact, I’m going to make all of our lives better.”

  Mentally checking for the items he would need, he walked into his kitchen. Getting a dozen red roses home from a florist shop was next to impossible, but easier than having a flower truck pull up in front of his house and drop them off. The last thing he needed was to be featured on any more social media postings.

  The long box of flowers barely fit in his refrigerator, even with one of the sliding shelves removed. He took out the long, slender container and set it on the kitchen counter so he could place the ribbon directly in the center. It was too early for champagne, so he went to his wine cooler and pulled out the sparkling apple cider he had placed there last night.

  Armed with the book, her resignation, the flowers, and the fake champagne, he grabbed the keys to Scott's Tesla and made his way into the garage. Borrowing his friend's car yesterday was the only way he had managed to get to the florist undetected, but he wasn't too sure about driving an entirely electric car.

  The car unlocked as he approached, and he placed the items in his hand into the back seat.

  He climbed in and started the car, appreciating how quiet the engine sounded. If it weren't for the interior lights, he would never have guessed that the car was running.

  It seemed to be the perfect getaway car.

  He slowly crept out of the garage. As he approached the entry gate to his estate, he saw a few cold women spring to life and shout his name.

  He pulled onto the highway and followed the GPS guiding system. The morning traffic had not begun yet, and he made good time. Deborah’s neighborhood only now buzzed to life with early morning commuters.

  He drove from one quaint street to the next in a maze–like fashion until he reached her avenue. She owned the green house on the corner. The grass in the lawn fought its way through the patches of snow. Two wicker chairs sat on the porch with a table in between. If he had to guess which house on this block was hers, he would have chosen this one. Not because he knew her so well, but because the house was a setting in her book. It was where the hero had proposed to the heroine in a very Pretty Woman movie sort of way.

  The movie had always seemed so trite to him, but women loved it.

  Now that he understood what love was, he under the movie’s appeal.

  Her car still sat in the driveway, so he parked behind her. If things went poorly, she wouldn't be able to leave in a huff. He took a deep breath as he remained in the car one more minute with the keys in his hand.

  Over the last few days, he’d managed to read her book. He hated romance novels, but this one nearly read like a diary of his life.

  Naturally, the gallery scene in her second book—very much like the opera they had attended—and the scene at his office hadn't played out quite the same in real life. She hadn’t been on the floor of the two locations moaning out his name…but maybe they could play out the story’s last scene.

  He walked up the walk to the front door. This would be their fairy tale ending. Their happily ever after.

  At least he hoped so.

  Deborah didn't have time to thoroughly dry her hair before getting dressed and checking her daily planner once again for the address of the unemployment agency. She wanted to arrive just as they opened their doors so she could cross the unpleasant chore of standing in a line and begging for money off her to–do list.

  Her only real skill was secretarial. Perhaps she would be lucky and find a female executive to work for. If she couldn't find something ideal, she could hire on with a temp agency.

  She didn't want to do temp work, but she wasn't in a position to be picky about where her next paycheck came from. The unemployment agency would have a list of the temp places she could apply to, as well as possibly other companies she hadn't even thought about.

  Of course, she didn't need to be someone's assistant. Once her son graduated college, she could go back and finish her degree. She could start over in a different field, that was if her writing didn't take off and provide a living for her.

  She closed her eyes and a shiver ran down her spine. She wasn't going to succeed as an author and she knew it. Writing two and a half books within the span of several years and then publishing them with mediocre sales would not sustain her. No one knew she wrote—which is how she wanted it—but she needed better sales.

  She’d just grabbed her purse and keys off the table when she heard the doorbell ring. She wasn't expecting company, so she walked to the door and peered out the peephole.

  It was Daniel.

  A slight gasp escaped her throat and it felt like all the air had escaped out of the room.

  She hadn't seen him in days. He had never visited her home before, but she assumed this visit was due to her official resignation letter she had mailed in. She had hoped he would call to say goodbye, but she hadn’t expected him to make a personal trip to see her.

  She hadn't even heard his car pull up. Instinctively, her hand brushed through her still damp hair before she opened the door.

  “Hello, Deborah.”

  Glancing away, she found it difficult to look the man in the eyes. He stood before her in jeans and a button–down shirt, his comfort wardrobe for when he wasn't at work. Since it was a workday, he must have made a special trip just for her and wasn't planning to go into the office.

  But that was the butterflies and the hope she carried within her talking.

  He hadn't said much to her since the night they had spent together, and she knew his usual routine. His parade of women typically received flowers the day after having sex with him, a phone call two days later, a dinner invite for the following Friday, and a small gift of jewelry or other personal item wrapped and mailed to them. It was all rote.

  She didn't want to be clumped into the bevy of young girls he chose to sleep with, and there had been no flowers or dinner invites. Obviously, she wasn't worthy of his usual routine. But, then again, she regularly took care of the details of scheduling his love life. It seemed silly to send herself any of those things, knowing they didn't really come from him.

  “Deborah, may I come in.”

  Daniel's smile caused his baby blue eyes to twinkle, and he looked happier than she had seen him in a long time.

  The man was actually happy? Happy to be rid of her?

  Against her best judgment, she opened the door and gestured for him to enter. Her home wasn't as grand as his, and she certainly didn't have a foyer. The front door opened directly into the living room of her tiny three-bedroom house.

  He carried in a long floral box, which had to be held sidewise for him to enter. “These are for you.”

  She took the long, white box from his hands, knowing full well that it contained long–stemmed roses. The packaging seemed a bit old fashioned, but she’d always t
hought a presentation of flowers in such a manner was romantic. Which was why her heroines’ love interests presented them with such flowers in her novels.

  She had only once before received long–stemmed roses packaged like this, but it wasn't a romantic gesture. It was when she had given birth to Josh, and Carl had signed the card congratulating her on the birth of her son. Her son, not their son or even his.

  Her hands shook as she held the white container. This was the thank–you–for–the–sex gift that she would always send out to Daniel’s past loves.

  Step one. Check.

  She led Daniel into the kitchen. She placed the gift on the counter, and her fingers fumbled nervously with the red bow until it finally untied and she could freely pull the ribbon from the box.

  Inside lay a dozen long–stemmed red roses. Beautiful, perfect, unwanted.

  “You should get them into water,” he said.

  “Of course, sir.” She bit her lip as she heard the words escape.

  Habit. Just a force of habit. She took a deep breath and noticed him staring at her.

  The wide grin that spread across his face told her something was up, but she was no longer his secretary, and this parting gift said as much.

  Step two was a piece of jewelry. A nice shiny bauble that basically said, “here’s something shiny to keep your attention while I make my getaway.”

  She wasn’t ready to see step two.

  “I assume you received my letter of resignation.” She opened a cabinet and retrieved a large vase. Any change of topic, even the loss of her job, was better.

  He pulled the envelope from his back pocket and tossed it on the counter. “I don't accept it.”

  She stared at the white envelope with the office address and recognized her handwriting. She couldn't bring herself to face him, so mailing the notice in, however impersonal, seemed like the best option.