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“Hi,” Erica says drily. She’s not impressed either.
“Can I buy you another one?” he asks me, nodding towards my raspberry Smirnoff.
“Oh no, I’m fine,” I say with a cheerful grin. Even Mr. Overbearing with Too Much Cologne On can’t ruin my happy mood. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend to show up. You might know him – Kaden Charles?”
I shouldn’t have said that to a complete stranger, I know that, but I also know that almost everyone around knows of the Boy Wonder, and I can’t help but imply that I’m way above this guy’s paygrade.
“Hold on, you actually fell for that?!” He throws his head back and laughs. “I thought you were too smart for that bullshit. That’s why I came over tonight – I figured you were still single.”
“Fell for…fell for what?”
“He stalked you, sister. He called all of his research team in, and had them pull every bit of information out of your past so he could use it to get into your panties. Let me guess – did he ask you to go out onto his yacht?”
Mortified, I can only jerk my head yes.
“Hansen figured that one out. I’m the one who dug deep enough to know that you have 3 weeks and 5 days of vacation time piled up at Carter Jeffries, and if you don’t take at least a week’s vacation by the 30th, they’ll have to pay you for a week of it, which apparently they’re not happy about.”
I’m just gaping, my mouth is gaping open, no words, because they’re all in my head.
Just you, me, and the ocean for a day. Or a week. Do you have any vacation time coming up?
He’d asked, already knowing the answer. He’d manipulated me, down to the very last detail. That goddamn motherfucking piece of shit.
“Your boyfriend? Damn, I should get a bonus. He really scored with you.”
He won’t shut up. I don’t know why he won’t shut up. I put my hands up on either side of my head, trying to shut him out. Trying to stay sane. I can’t believe this. Oh god, I can’t believe it. I’m rocking back and forth, and vaguely, I hear Ashley getting rid of jackass but I can’t process the words right now.
I’d been so stupid. So goddamn stupid.
14
Kaden
I enter the Emporio Armani and search in the dimly lit bar for Brittney. I’m so damn happy, I think my heart might burst out of my chest. I’ve done nothing but think about Brittney all day long. One of my research guys discovered that she loves Jane Austen, and more specifically, original copies of her novels. I already have a rare items dealer on the hunt for an original copy of Pride & Prejudice or Emma. She is going to freak the fuck out when I give it to her. I can’t wait.
Except, I’ve finally found her in the dim lighting, and she doesn’t look happy to see me. Not one fucking bit. I see Tom from work being drug away from Brittney by some hot chick, while he’s arguing with her. “I was just talking to her,” I can hear him say.
Talking to her. Talking to Brittney? Why the fuck was he talking to Brittney?
And is this why Brittney looks like death warmed over? I approach cautiously, not brave enough to stride over like I would have just five minutes early.
“Hey Britt.” I try for casual. Maybe this is all just a huge coincidence. Maybe Tom hadn’t actually said anything to her.
“You’ve got yourself a real cold fish there, boss!” he calls out. Obviously, his pride has been bruised, and like a fucktard, he wants his bank account to be too.
“You’re fired,” I call back casually. “Now get the hell out of here.” I don’t even bother looking at him when I say it. He isn’t worth my time. I hear a fight break out between him and what I assume is the bouncer for the bar, but I ignore it all. “Brittney?” I say tentatively, reaching out to her like I would towards a wild animal, cornered and angry and ready to bite at any moment.
“How?” She looks up at me, finally making eye contact and I flinch, almost wishing she hadn’t. My beautiful, funny, confident Brittney is gone, and in her place is a woman who looks as if death cannot come quickly enough. I’m not even sure if she’s angry with me, or just in such a state of shock, she can’t feel anything at all.
“I had my guys at work do a little digging,” I say desperately, trying to head off her questions. “That’s all. I just wanted to impress you.”
“Impress me?” she echoes. “Impress me?! You goddamn manipulated me!!!” Her roar echoes around the noisy bar and the sound level drops to zero. I swear to god, I can hear people breathing. “You goddamn motherfucking piece of shit! You researched me like you would an acquisition! You gathered that knowledge so you could use it! I can’t believe I fucked you! Well, fuck you!” The whole bar gasps collectively and a white filmy haze drops over my eyes and I realize that I, too, am going into shock.
I’d just wanted to make her fall in love with me.
I hadn’t even been able to show her my dance moves. After three weeks of lessons, I can’t show her a single one.
A tiny – minuscule – part of my brain realizes that my dance lessons aren’t important here, but I’m having a hard time focusing on any one thing at the moment.
