IN BED WITH THE BOSS

“I do not care what you did not mean! I do not care that you feel guilty now that you’ve had me in this bed! I gave myself to you willingly and freely. It is you who finds this a shameful thing, not me!”

Standing rigid with shock, he looked as if he’d been turned into rock, and Vivian decided she’d had taken enough of this. With an infuriatingly uncontrollable sob, she coiled her fingers around the sheet and snaked off the bed, dragging the sheet with her as she went.

“Vivian…”

“No,” she husked out. “Don’t speak another word to me. I hate you. I will hate you forever.”

Those black feelings vented, she ran into his bathroom and slammed the door shut, then just sank in a puddle of white linen to the floor.

She had wanted this job so badly. Well, she had gotten a chance and blown it away, for where had her sense of honor been when she had lusted after Scott McCall? Where was it in recognising that she had just turned into a person she had never thought she would ever turn into. And she would never forgive Scott for making her aware that this was what she had done to herself.

She heard the telltale sound of the helicopter lifting off the ground as she still sat in her huddle on the bathroom floor.

He’d gone. Her aching heart turned over. He had not bothered to hang around for a second longer than he absolutely had to and she hated him for doing that too.

Hours later, after she had been delivered back to her apartment via helicopter, then a chauffeured limousine, which left her feeling cynically unimpressed, Vivian called Megan to tell her just how badly the weekend had gone.

_________

Scott McCall pulled up in front of the small brick house in the Green Park neighborhood. With its white trim, meticulously manicured front lawn and currently empty flower boxes, the home was cute and obviously well taken care of. But Jennifer Bennet still had no business being here. Not when she had a home.

So why had she sent him a text informing him he’d need to pick her up here tonight, as she would be living in this place for the foreseeable future?

What the hell was going on? After his weekend with Vivian, he was in no mood for any other drama.

The questions had burned in his head, then twisted his gut into knots. The need for answers had propelled him out of his mother’s house, where he’d been visiting her and Sara. He hadn’t bothered replying to Jennifer’s text but had entered the address in his GPS and driven directly there. He shut off his car and walked up the tidy side-walk to the postage-stamp-size porch. Maybe she’d heard him arrive, because before he could knock on the storm door, Jennifer appeared in the entrance, wrapped in a cashmere shawl and evening gown. She joined him on the porch, scanning his attire, her gaze running over his peacoat, down his black jeans to his boots, then back up.

“You’re going to the ballet dressed like that?” she asked, frowning.

“No,” he answered shortly. “Come on.”

Moments later, with her safe in the passenger’s seat, he started the car and drove away.

“What’s going on, Jennifer?” he asked. “Whose house is that?”

“My best friend, Clara,” she replied, keeping her gaze straight ahead.

Impatient, Scott pressed, “And? Why are you staying with her-how did you put it-for the foreseeable future?”

She sighed, “Because I left home. And I don’t know when, or if, I’ll return.”

Surprise winged through Scott. “Did you leave or did Bruce kick you out?”

Another sigh, and when he glanced over at her she shook her head. “I left. We…had a disagreement, and I thought it best if I gave us both space.”

“You’re trying to make me drag it out of you, aren’t you?” he growled.

“I’m not trying to make you do anything,” she said, every inch of the society princess in that reply. “What’s more, I don’t want you to.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Quiet settled in the car like a third passenger as he drove to his home. It wasn’t until he pulled into the underground parking garage that she stirred.

“I can wait here or in the lobby while you change if you’re not going to be long. The ballet starts in about thirty minutes,” she said, straightening in the passenger’s seat.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped, “Come inside, Jennifer. It’s no big deal”

He didn’t wait for her answer, but shoved the door open. But he still caught her grumbled, “Fine…. Since everyone wants to boss me around…”

In spite of the anger over Bruce and frustration over Vivian still churning in his chest, he couldn’t suppress the quirk of his mouth. This woman gave as good as she got.

Minutes later, they entered his penthouse, and he took her wrap to hang up for her. “Would you like a glass of wine? Scotch?” he asked, stalking into the living room and toward the bar.

“Do we have time for that? If you don’t hurry and dress, we’re going to be late,” she reminded him, following him, but halting on the top of the steps that led into the living room.

He removed the top of a crystal decanter and poured himself a finger of bourbon. Only after he’d downed a sip did he turn and face her. “We’re not going to the ballet,” he informed her.

She frowned. “What? Why not?” She stepped down into the room. “And why didn’t you tell me you changed your mind at Clara’s house?”

“Why?” he repeated, lifting the tumbler to his lips and staring at her over the rim as he sipped. “Because even though you won’t admit it, you’re hurting. Something more than a ‘disagreement’ had to have occurred to make you leave the only family you have left, as well as the only home you’ve known. I’m a self-confessed asshole, Jennifer, but even I wouldn’t make you attend a social event and fake a happiness you’re far from feeling. Especially when your brother might be in attendance.” He swirled the amber liquor in his glass and arched an eyebrow. “And as for why I didn’t tell you when I picked you up, that’s simple. You wouldn’t have come with me if I had. The last thing you need right now is to be alone. And I’m guessing your friend isn’t around which mean you would’ve been very much alone tonight. So that leaves me.”

Her frown deepened. “It’s a little creepy how you know so much about me.”

He shrugged, taking another taste of the bourbon. “Before going into battle, it’s wise to be prepared and know everything you can about your enemy.”

“Enemy,” she breathed, then scoffed. “You just proved my point. We’re not friends-far from it. So why do you care how I spend my night? I’m not your responsibility,” she said softly.

“No,” he agreed just as softly. “We’re not friends. But can we call a truce and resume hostilities tomorrow? You’re right, you’re not my responsibility. But I am responsible. The argument was about me, wasn’t it?” When she didn’t reply, he gently pressed, “Jennifer?”

“Yes,” she reluctantly admitted.

“Let me guess,” he said, his anger rekindling. “Bruce wanted you to break it off with me and you refused.”

“Correct again.” She notched her chin up at a defiant angle, but he caught the slight tremble of her bottom lip. “But if I’d given in to his demand, then it would’ve meant destroying everything he cares about, destroying him. Still, it’s not like I could share that with him. Instead, he threatened to dismantle my company, starting with ruining all the businesses I’ve invested in. Oh, and he fired me-or placed me on a temporary leave of absence. So those are my choices. End our relationship and destroy everything my brother loves. Or continue upholding our bargain and lose the company I love.”

Fury blasted through Scott, and for a moment a red haze dropped over his vision. Bruce had not only pushed Vivian at that party, but he had also threatened his own sister? The man just couldn’t stop being an asshole. Scott grasped the tumbler so tightly the beveled edges dug into his flesh. He pictured that thick, brown file in his office safe, and had no regrets about his intentions to expose Bruce. A man like him deserved the hell he planned to rain down on him.

“I won’t let him do that,” Scott promised. Soon enough her brother would be too busy trying to pick up the flaming pieces of his life to worry about harming her company.

“It’s not your concern.” She waved a hand, dismissing his vow and the topic. “And you mentioned a truce? I accept.” Moving forward, she extended her arm. “Should we shake on it?”

Scott glanced down at her open palm before lifting his gaze to meet her eyes, then his hand closed around hers. “Are you hungry?” he asked, lowering his arm to his side. “I can order in anything you’d like.”