Bossy Bully: A Sweet Billionaire Boss Romance (Sweet Bossy Millionaires Book 1) Page 9

  My arm is still around his neck, the tips of my fingers caressing the back of his head. It takes effort for me to pull away. “Don’t say anything.” I put a finger to my lips to shush whatever he might say. “Let’s have our late lunch and keep this moment for what it is, okay?”

  “What is this moment?”

  “Ours. Just… ours.”

  Jett doesn’t say anything, and I resist touching my kiss-swollen lips as he puts a hand to the small of my back and guides me into the restaurant. We sit on the patio and he orders for us, something I find that I don’t mind. We sip flavored sparkling water and I cover up the fact that it tastes terrible by recalling how incredible he tasted. It should feel wrong, but the feeling I get is anything but.

  It’s a beautiful afternoon and once again, I get the sensation that this is all surreal. He crosses his hands on the table and I can’t decide if he’s relaxed or just tired. My muscles are antsy and there’s a hint of awkwardness that I can’t shake. I need to make conversation before I jump out of my skin. I fiddle with my napkin and think of something to say.

  He beats me to it.

  “Have you been bringing treats for the staff all week?”

  Okay, not what I thought we’d be talking about, but whatever. “Yes, actually.”

  “Have they been well received?”

  “I think so. They don’t last long, so I imagine people like them.”

  “Good. That’s good.” He sits back in his chair. “I don’t think to do those kinds of things. I don’t know what ancillary things make my employees happy. If you have it figured out, please, continue.”

  I think about Bruce and his ordeal in getting time off for his wife’s surgery. Those are the kinds of things that make people unhappy enough to leave, but I’m not sure how to bring it up. “You’ve had a higher than normal turn-over rate.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  The left side of his mouth darts up. “Because I’m difficult and I don’t often recognize what people need from me.”

  I set my napkin on my lap and take my time smoothing it. Should I tell him that Margaret confided his condition to me? What would he think if he knew just how much she’d told me?

  “Luckily, a few of my key players who left have come back. Retention is high on my list of things to address, but first, I need to close the deal in LA. It’s my only priority at the moment.”

  LA is coming up fast and we haven’t had the time to go over everything properly. I’m about to mention that when he leans on his forearms over the table and gives me a deeply curious look. “There are hundreds of jobs out there, Lora. Why did you fight so hard to work for me?”

  “Because… well…”

  “Because of that night in the hot tub that I don’t remember?”

  “No. Yes. Maybe? It was an offer that you made that I would have been stupid not to follow up on, that’s all. Ultimately, I have a debt to pay and TerraLuxe was offering the highest starting salary of any other company I researched. You were a good use of my time and energy.”

  Our food arrives and I bask in the aroma of fresh bread and garlic shrimp scampi. He cuts his steak but doesn’t eat anything.

  “What kind of debt do you owe?”

  I have a shrimp halfway to my mouth and lower my fork. “Mr. Calder, are trying to get to know me? Because in my first interview, you made it very clear that you had no interest in that.” My voice is light, teasing and I’m curious to see how he reacts.

  He eats a couple of bites. “I’m curious what kind of debt would encourage you to put up with me.”

  He’s serious. There’s not a lick of jest in his tone and I have immediate sadness that Jett is so relentlessly hard on himself. He knows how people see him. Maybe he doesn’t take it to heart the same way I or someone else would, but he feels their reactions to him like a physical touch. It’s become a part of him.

  “You’re not as hard to put up with as I originally thought.”

  “You haven’t been with me that long. Your opinion on that will change.”

  I set down my fork. “Only if you let it. You hired me to help you through social situations, and I’m doing that the best that I can. I’m doing the work, but it doesn’t mean you can’t learn from it.”

  “It’s not like that. My issue isn’t fixable by learning from observation or being lectured into changing my ways. It goes much deeper and I don’t expect, or need you, to understand.”

  He’s right; I don’t know what it would take to help him on an organic level. “Fair enough.”

  “The debt,” he says. “You didn’t answer the question.”

  I take a breath and realize I can handle this one of two ways: I can tell him the truth and not be offended that he’s pushing, or I can be offended and tell him to mind his own damn business. I just spent the better part of a week watching him sleep and wiping the sweat from his forehead, so I consider we’ve come far enough that I can be honest.

  “My parents came from Sicily the year before I was born. They brought their life savings with them and handed it to me when I turned eighteen to apply toward college. Since then, my mother died, and my father had a heart attack. I promised him that I’d pay every cent of that money back so he doesn’t feel the urgency to go back to work. At his age, and with his health, that’s the last thing I want him to do. Nearly every penny I make at TerraLuxe will go to him until the debt is paid.”

  He finishes his steak and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “How much do you owe him?”

  “Fifty-thousand-and-one-dollars.”

  “And… one?”

  I don’t have the heart to tell him about that stupid lucky dollar. That’s between my Papa and me. “And, one.”

  “That’s an honorable thing you’re doing in paying him back. Too often, people take and never hold up their end of the deal, or they lie and manipulate to get what they want. You’ll see that a lot in a business like mine, and when you make as much money as I do, you’ll see it in your personal life, too.”

  I look at my plate as guilt makes my throat go tight. Lie and manipulate? Like I did on my resume? I set my plate aside and quickly think of a response. “Is that why you push people away?”

  I expect him to give me some crap about not understanding the question, but he doesn’t hesitate as he nods. “That’s part of it. I have enough barriers to making interpersonal relationships. Figuring out the motives of others isn’t something I want to tackle.”

  The waiter comes by to clear our plates and inquire if we want dessert. We both decline, but neither of us gets up to leave. I study his face and it makes me happy that some of the softness is still there. That strong, masculine, youthful glow looks so good on him. I remember what he looked like completely relaxed in sleep. I wish he could always feel some semblance of that ease.

  “I just want to clear the air so it’s not awkward,” I say. “I let myself into your house, found you asleep, called your mother and we took turns watching over you until you woke up. I didn’t touch anything or dig through your drawers or anything like that. I hope you don’t feel as if I intruded on your personal space.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkle a bit. “So, who put me in pajama pants?”

  I grimace playfully. “That was definitely your mother.”

  He takes out his wallet and puts cash on the bill tray.

  “Thank you for lunch,” I say as I rise from my chair.

  “It’s the least I can do after what you did for me.”

  My gaze snaps to him, my mouth dropping open. Did he just relate to me? “Excellent response, Mr. Calder.”

  We make small talk on the way back to the office, and though we haven’t said a word about it, I still feel that kiss as if his lips are on mine, taking control of me, making me feel so good. We sit close together again, and I enjoy his warmth and the scent of his spicy cologne. All of this is happening so unexpectedly and fast. Yes, Jett Calder is one handsome man. That’s never been in
question, and if you’re the type of woman who goes for a man based on looks alone, you can’t go wrong with him. But he’s also complicated and rough around the edges, impatient and rude. There’s, multiple sharp edges to an otherwise perfect package and I can’t imagine any woman would be able to get past that, and if she did, hang on for long without shredding herself to pieces.

  So, why do I want to be that woman?

  His profile is backlit by sunlight as the car pulls up to TerraLuxe and I have the biggest urge to tell him everything.

  That I lied on my resume.

  That I’m the one who pulled him from the car and then left the scene.

  That we never had a conversation in that hot tub. I made it up, because I figured he’d never remember either way.

  The driver opens the door for me, but I’m still looking at Jett, whose checking his phone, and I have to drag myself out of the vehicle. We walk together to our offices, but the air between us has changed. It’s my doing. It’s my guilt and the pressure to come clean. My chest is tight, my back growing sweaty.

  “Lora.” Jett snags my elbow and brings me to a halt just outside my office door. His eyes search mine and I cling to the intelligence and heat there.

  I should tell him that I’m falling for him. That’s one thing that isn’t a lie.

  He smiles but doesn’t say anything and it doesn’t matter because the smile says enough. I nod and we continue to my open office door.

  On my desk is a dozen yellow roses with a prominent card that reads: Love, Justin.

  And I nearly throw up my lunch.

  Chapter Eleven: Jett

  LA is in ten days and Lora’s not ready.

  We’ve been working closely for the past week, yet local negotiations have kept me preoccupied. I need to stay focused because I need the Moroccan contract. So much is riding on that, and Lora absolutely has to up her game.

  She’s memorizing the key guests as I asked her to, and she swears she has the details right. But I feel as if something is off. She’s been distracted, withdrawn and I’m at the end of my patience. Someone has delivered flowers to her office three times in the past five days. I don’t know much about sending a woman flowers, but I imagine they’d make her smile and feel good. Yet, Lora doesn’t smile when she finds them on her desk.

  Either do I.

  Jealousy isn’t an emotion I deal with. I pluck it out and toss it away. For some reason, I’m not able to disregard it so easily where Lora’s flowers are concerned. I consider that it’s a lingering deficit from my recent crash, but I feel as strong as ever and fully rested so it can’t be that. I saw my doctor yesterday and she said I was fine, except that these crashes would be unpredictable, as I already knew. Maybe the next one will be longer and harder on my health. She’s worried about my stress levels, about the pressure I put on myself.

  For the first time ever, I don’t argue with her.

  It might be time to consider some treatment but I’m not there yet. I’m not ready to give up my pain and the reminder that my best friend is in the ground while my life goes on. It’s a tumultuous life, thanks to my brain. But I can make it better, when I’m ready.

  I look at the blueprint spread over my desk. It’s the Red Raven building and my chest swells with pride. The building itself is a piece of architectural artwork, the wavy glass panels and three, perfectly stacked levels overlooking the ocean with direct access to downtown and the boardwalk make it one of the most valuable pieces of property on the waterfront. My father snatched up the empty lot years ago before the price inflated, and I had the building designed before I took over TerraLuxe. The moment I set foot in the CEO’s office, I had construction started. I’ve received numerous offers since before it was completed. I turn them all down. Word spread that I was refusing everything and offers, and interest are harder to come by.

  Which is exactly what I wanted to happen.

  I’m not selling Red Raven. Not now; not ever. I entertained offers to make it look good, but as soon as I close the Moroccan deal in LA and ensure there’s enough revenue coming in to support payroll, operations expenses, and growth, I’m going to go deep with the Red Raven building. Maybe when my plans for that are completed, I will take my doctor’s advice.

  Rolling up the blueprints, I tuck them into the canister and slip it under my arm. I’m going to Red Raven this morning to meet with a designer who can further my plan. It’s a covert meeting, one no one knows about because I’m not ready to tell anyone. Leaving my office, I pass Lora’s and notice through the glass that she’s on the phone and tears are streaming down her face.

  Normally, I’d keep walking. I should keep walking. She’s crying, which indicates that she is upset. I don’t feel it, but I know that’s what tears often mean. Which means, she’ll require comfort from… someone. Me? Before I think it through, I rap on her door and let myself in. She immediately turns her back to me, but I don’t leave.

  The back of my neck prickles. I cup a hand there. What is that all about?

  “Okay, Jim, thanks for letting me know. No, I can’t force him to come home. He’s a grown man. Yes. I understand. I’m going to stop by and check on him, though. Okay… okay, thanks for calling.”

  I notice her cell phone sitting on the desk, with a text message from Justin clearly displayed. I look away, but then look back and quickly read it.

  Lora, where are you? Your father went back to work. Did you know that? I saw him at the store this morning, working. Do you want me to go get him? Call me!

  I clear my throat. “Is everything okay?”

  “When someone is on the phone, you don’t just let yourself in.”

  Her back is still to me and she’s almost yelling. I bristle. “This is my company. I’ll let myself in wherever I like.”

  She shakes her head and wipes at her face before turning to face me. My heart flips at the red splotches on her cheeks and her puffy eyes. “I’m going to take an early lunch if you don’t mind. There’s something I need to take care of.”

  “You’re going to get your father?”

  “Look, Jett, I’m not going to discuss this with you. It’s my business, okay?”

  “I’m headed out. You’re in no condition to drive, so let me take you wherever it is you need to go.” It takes a second to realize what I’ve just offered. Warmth grows inside me. It feels good. It felt good to offer to take care of her.

  After a moment, she nods. “Okay, sure. As long as you promise to stay in the car until I’m done?”

  “I will.”

  I notice the row of flowers lined up on the windowsill. The older ones are wilted and turning brown, leaves falling and collecting on the sill. She seems to not care about the flowers, or the gesture and I wonder if it’s because she simply doesn’t like flowers or is it something more?

  My lips suddenly tingle as I recall kissing her. I’ve thought about it too often since it happened, but I let it go. For now.

  She’s composed herself by the time we get to the car and gives the driver the address. It’s for a grocery store. I want to ask, but I don’t. She must know that I’m curious, because she keeps looking at me and finally sighs and throws up her hands.

  “My father took himself back to work yesterday without my knowledge. Told his boss that he was cleared for light duty.”

  “Is he cleared for light duty?”

  She doesn’t look impressed at my question. “Yes, but that’s not the point. He’s still weak. He still takes two naps a day, sometimes more. He shouldn’t be working.” She smooths her pinstripe skirt. “His boss called just to fill me in because he knows how worried I’ve been.”

  “And, Justin told you.”

  Her brow crinkles. “How did you know that?”

  “I saw the text message on your desk.”

  “Seriously?” She looks to the ceiling and her fingers clench and relax, clench and relax. “That’s my private business.”

  I shrug. “That you left out in the open on the top of your des
k for anyone to see. For being private business, you didn’t think that through very well.”

  “Don’t justify snooping.”

  My head starts to pressurize because there are things I want to say, but I don’t, and it stuns me. For some reason, I have restraint around Lora that I don’t have with other people. She has an unusual effect on me. We pull into the store and she asks the driver to go around to the back. There’s an unloading station there where three men are taking boxes from a short conveyor coming out of the back of the semi. She gets out and beelines it to an older looking gentleman.

  He tips his ballcap back when he spots her, his shoulders sagging as if he knows he’s been caught. Lora immediately hugs him, then holds him at arm’s length as if to check him over. She really cares about this man; that’s obvious. She’s taken care of him since his heart attack and worries daily about his health. She took care of me, helped my mother to make sure I had my needs met while I was sleeping. She doesn’t even know me or Margaret very well, yet, she’d gone out of her way to help.

  Pulling my gaze away from the duo, I open my tablet and read some reports. There’s an email from my cousin Marcus, wanting to know if we can meet and discuss a collaborative investment. I’m so used to being immediately furious when I hear from him that I brace myself for it, but it doesn’t come.

  Huh. I feel… nothing. I need to think about it before I reply, maybe have Lora make sure I word things just right. It’s funny how in such a short time, I’ve come to rely on her to make sure things run smoothly, that I say and do the right things. I lean on her more than I ever did on Helen.

  Lora comes back to the car and I pretend to be working as she gets inside. I wait for her to say something. She doesn’t, so I tell the driver to take me to the waterfront.

  “I’ll need you to look over some email correspondence later today. Make sure the wording is appropriate.”