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“Is it because of Paige? The girl you wanted to marry?” I regretted telling her about everything in my life now. “Tell me to my face that if she didn’t cheat on you, you’d be happily married by now.”
Her words struck deep. Would I have been happily married to Paige? We had a lot in common. She was beautiful and smart. She was everything that I was except that she was a woman. Sure, she had her bad moments. She would’ve helped me with my businesses, though, and maybe—just maybe, she would’ve been the mother of my children.
But as I pondered on Paige and all the what-ifs, Reagan’s face appeared in my head. And it hit me like a wrecking ball that Paige wasn’t Reagan. Reagan and I had nothing in common, but the latter challenged me to no end. She was innocent and yet so conniving. She was determined to step away from the things she was used to know because she wouldn’t let anyone tie her down to something she didn’t want.
And she was the most insufferable and infuriating woman I know. And I hated each day that passed that she wasn’t bothering me, pushing me—defying me.
I shook my head slowly. No, the gesture implied. I wouldn’t be happily married to Paige, regardless. Because she was not Reagan. Clair gave me a soft nod, telling me she understood.
“What if she’s like her brother?”
“She’s here, is she not? It meant she left the comfort of her home because she didn’t want any part of her family drama. She’s not going to cheat or lie to you. Don’t let your hatred get in the way of your second chance in life, Matthew.”
Clair was a fucking prophet. She knew the right words to say, and when to make her dramatic exit. Because after she said those words, she stood from the chair and walked out of my office with a smirk on her face.
I pondered her words. She was right. I was conflicted about how I was going to approach Reagan. Confrontation wasn’t my strong suit. But I decided that I’d talk to her after the gala was over. It was ample time for me to gather my thoughts and my emotions.
***
It was barely afternoon when I got a report that Reagan had ended her streak of playing nice with people at work.
Clair: Your little girlfriend just got in a fight with a fellow employee. At least we know that you’re not the only one who’s pissed at this entire ordeal.
I rolled my eyes at the text and instructed her to send Reagan to my office.
My feelings for her weren’t going to stop me from calling her out. They didn’t give her freedom to cause chaos if she was having a shitty day today.
So I waited for her to come into my office as I contemplated things. I decided that today I was going to be firm with her. That my feelings would be put to the side and I wasn’t about to coddle her. We could properly talk after we had cleared our schedules and minds.
She stormed into my office without knocking, her eyes glinting with rage as she tried and failed to iron her blue uniform smooth with her hands. An entire fantasy in my head developed just seeing her in it. But I shook the thoughts away because right now, I was her boss. And I was putting her in place.
“You know you should stop summoning me into your office like I’m some kind of peasant,” she snapped. God, I missed her voice. Hearing it made my senses tingle.
“You’d rather I correct you in front of everybody? You said yourself you didn’t want that.”
All she could do was roll her eyes in frustration because she knew I was right. There was nothing joyous about her, nothing that showed a chance of her mood improving. She was furious through and through.
“I’d rather you talk to all the people concerned and not just me.” And I was going to. I just didn’t want her to know that.
“Tell me what happened so I can weigh who’s in the wrong.”
“She called me the boss’ pet,” she complained and I assumed that the ‘she’ Reagan was referring to was the other employee.
“Are you a child?”
“What?” she yelped, her mouth gaping in shock at my response.
“Do you have no control over your emotions, Reagan? Why do you have to retaliate every time someone pushes you?”
“Because I have to take care of myself, Matthew,” she said, hissing the words at me. And I realized that it was true. She had gotten physical every time her family was brought up or someone indicated she couldn’t take care of herself. Because she didn’t like people talking shit about her or her family.
“What else did she say?”
“That I’m still here in your hotel despite everything because of who my father is. And that you’re only allowing me to perform in front of the guests because I am the daughter of a renowned businessman.” I wanted to tell her that her father wasn’t as big a deal as he was in the past. But I bit my tongue instead. I didn’t want Reagan to feel like everybody was going against her.
“Maybe it looks like nepotism,” I said, pondering that idea. But I knew it wasn’t. Reagan wasn’t given any special treatment while she was here, not because of her father, and not even because we were sleeping together. But I wanted to hear her response to my accusation.
“It’s not.”
