Page 524 of Manhattan Bossholes

“I don’t think I can continue working with you, James,” Natalie finally said. “I’m going to quit.”

I’d been wrestling with something, not sure if it was the right move, but I realized that I needed to speak the words now. “Natalie, no. You can’t leave Branson. I’m…I’m taking a leave of absence. You should stay, at least for a while, until you figure out what you want to do next. I won’t be around to bother you.”

Hope flashed in her expression, and I realized how much she valued her position at Branson. I was glad I could at least offer her that lifeline.

“Fine. I’ll stay as long as you’re not there. But the minute you come back, I’m leaving.”

She raised her chin at me, and I tried not to see her as a little girl, clutching a trash bag filled with clothing.

“We need to discuss workflow, and how you’ll need to manage everything with me gone,” I said. “Keep vetting the resumes for Clint’s replacement, but put the interviews on hold for now. I’m fine with giving you free rein on interviewing candidates for Lorraine’s job yourself. I’m not going to be checking in, which means that⁠—”

“James, seriously? Now?” her voice broke. “You’re trying to talk shop with my heart crushed under your shoe?”

I felt my mouth go tight. Focusing on work was my move. Branson had always been my buffer, my excuse to keep people at an arm’s length. I hated that Natalie could see through my bullshit.

“You’re right. We can figure that out later.”

“Your brother is fighting for his life right down the hallway and you’re over here talking hiring plans.” Natalie scoffed. “You’re a fucking mess, James. Do you know that?”

“Stop,” I said, the single syllable a terse demand.

She jabbed her finger at me. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You might be my boss on paper, but our working relationship is over. And our personal relationship…well, that was never real at all, right? So shut the hell up, James Branson.”

There was no arguing with her. I could tell by her expression that she was now ready to fight to the death, and I was of no mind to meet her in that dark place.

“Fine,” I sighed.

“Are we done here?” she asked, already walking towards the door. “Because I have nothing else to say to you.”

My body had a primal reaction as her hand reached for the doorknob.

Stop her. Don’t let her go. She’s yours.

“We’re done,” I said simply. I didn’t trust myself to say anything else.

She slipped through the door without a backwards glance, and it hit me that Natalie was used to this. Leaving someone she thought cared about her. My heart splintered knowing that I’d been the one to do it to her this time.

But it was for the best, because I knew that I could never be the man that Natalie needed.

25

NATALIE

My tension headache kicked up the minute I got to the front doors.

I’d always loved the feeling I got when I walked into Branson, but ever since things went to hell with James, it felt like I was walking into a bad dream every damn day. I still loved the work and my colleagues, but his ghost lingering everywhere made it impossible to move past my broken heart.

There were too many good memories. The sidewalk out front where he’d made me the offer that changed my life. The copy room where he’d stolen kisses. And of course his office, where we’d swept everything off of his desk and made love on top of it.

No, correction. We’d been fucking, not making love. James had made that fact abundantly clear.

My phone was buzzing even though it was barely past seven. I’d started showing up earlier and earlier since my work had tripled, and it felt like the whole world knew it. I scanned it and saw two confirmations for initial interviews for Lorraine’s position, as well as four messages from Lavonte. I wasn’t his boss but ever since James left, he sure treated me as if I was.

Everyone in the department did. There’d been no official announcement, but since my triumph with the couture show, the creative team considered me a leader. We still had the Pantone project in the works, as well as our regular seasonal schedule. Ever since the show, people had been clamoring for the ready-to-wear versions of what we’d shown on the runway, which added an extra layer of work.

And stress.

I wished I had time to slow down and figure out what the hell my life had become, but the pace at Branson was relentless, especially with the way sales had shot up since the show. As much as I hated the man behind the name, I was proud of what Branson Designs produced. I loved being a part of it.