Boardroom Bully: An Enemies-to-Lovers Dark Romance Page 18

  It felt stupid to stand there and pour out my worries to her, but I kind of needed to get it off my chest before it killed me. I opened my mouth, and it all came pouring out of me.

  "Stuff is just...I don't know. Everything is too much, if that makes any sense. My landlord is threatening to kick me out because I'm late with the rent, again, and my other job cut back my hours. This one barely covers the bills I have to pay, and I'm falling behind at school because I'm always skipping classes to cover shifts to try and bring in more money. I love the program, but if I can't afford to live in the city, I may as well just drop out because I definitely can't make the commute, and I don't have anywhere to stay anyway."

  "That does sound like a lot," she said, sounding sympathetic. "Are there no cheaper places near campus?"

  I shook my head. "Not this late in the semester. I could probably move at the end of the semester after people graduate, but I don't know. I'm just trying to get through this month."

  "Well," she said. "I have to take off for a doctor's appointment next week, so you can have my shift if you want it." She gave me a warm smile, and I knew she was trying to be helpful.

  "Thanks, Laura. I'll see if I can cover it. I mean, it'll all be fine, right? Worst case scenario, I have to drop out and I get evicted, and I go back to the middle of nowhere to live with my parents and work in my dad's grocery store. It could be worse. A lot of people have it worse."

  "That's true," she said. "You won't be homeless, and that's a very good thing. I will miss you, though, if it comes to that."

  I smiled at her. She really was a very sweet person. But before I could thank her, someone on the other side of the counter cleared their throat, and we both jumped and turned around.

  He was here again.

  The mystery man who’d popped in over the last few weeks around the same time each day. Laura called him ‘Mr. silent and deadly—fuckable.’ Not that we were ogling him every time he came in. It’s just . . . a man like him was hard to miss. He gave ‘tall, dark and handsome’ an entirely new meaning. I mean, he was ridiculously handsome, but he was also pensive and dominating without saying a single word.

  Most times he came in, he’d sit in a far corner table and watch the counter every so often. I could swear he was looking at me more than once, but I figured it was just mistaken. There was something thoroughly exciting and frightening about him. For one thing, he was completely out of my league and I figured a man like that had dark demons just waiting under the surface to be unleashed; but for another, his attention was overwhelming. All it took was one look and his focused stare held such intensity, you couldn’t maintain eye contact without your breath hitching in your throat.

  The coffee shop had been empty when we'd started talking, and somehow, he'd managed to come in and get to the counter without either of us noticing.

  "Sorry, sir," Laura said, putting on her customer service smile and subtly sexy voice. "We didn't see you there. What can I get you?"

  He looked her up and down with cool gray eyes and then looked back to me. "I wonder if I could have her take my order." It was phrased like a request, but his tone made it clear he expected to get what he wanted.

  Laura and I exchanged glances and she shrugged before stepping back so I could move up to the counter. I put on my version of the customer service smile, though I was sure it was a little sharper than usual. "What can I get started for you today?" I asked him.

  I hoped he wasn’t one of those elitist jerks that came to the city for business and harassed minimum wage workers to get their rocks off.

  He dipped his head to the side and studied me. I refused to cave so I returned his stare. This close up, his eyes were startlingly gray against his dark lashes. There was a small scar through his left eyebrow, and his hair was brown and wavy, framing his strong jaw to perfection. His suit probably cost more than my car, and he had on an expensive looking watch and shiny cufflinks. I was sure his shoes would be just as pricey. Definitely some CEO or high-powered executive in the city for business.

  Suddenly he smiled, revealing a dimple in his left cheek. “Would you like to have dinner tonight?"

  "Excuse me?" I said, taken aback.

  He smirked, "Dinner? It’s what people enjoy in the evening. Usually several hours after lunch, Ms..." He drew it out, obviously waiting for me to fill in the blank.

  I didn't. Men like him didn’t ask women like me to dinner. He probably dated models. Or socialites. Or high-priced escorts. What the hell did he want with me? It couldn’t be good.

  "Is your proposition you ordering coffee or some kind of pastry and then me getting it for you? Because if not, I probably don't want to hear it."

  He watched me as if he could see right through my walls and far into my darkest depths. It was giving me the creeps . . . and a naughty feeling in my lower regions. A feeling I chose to ignore.

  He smiled wider. "A skeptic, interesting."

  "No, I'm a barista," I said. "It's my job to make you coffee and heat up croissants, and passed that, I don't really have to care."

  "You must do very well in tips," he shot back dryly, and I narrowed my eyes at him. Why was it that god chose to give the best looks and the most money to the worst kind of people?

  "Look, if you're not ordering anything, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This counter is for paying customers."

  He made a show of glancing around the coffee shop, which was still otherwise empty. "And you do seem to have so many of them here, waiting for your service.”

  We stood in a stalemate of sorts as he raised his brows.

  He leaned forward placing his hands on the counter and dipping his head to the side, “Look, it’s really very simple. I’d like to take you to dinner. Do you want to go? Yes or no?”

  "Wow," I said, mockingly. "How can I refuse such a romantic offer?”

  "Is that a yes?" he asked, grinning brightly. Of course his teeth were even and straight, and he was so damn handsome I wanted to hit him. I’d never felt aroused by someone five minutes after meeting them—and I refused to show this hot, wealthy bastard, that he had any effect on me.

  "Actually, it’s a hell no," I replied.

  He glanced over my shoulder to Laura, “Is this how she always responds when a man asks her out for the evening?”

  Laura just shrugged, her mouth wide open in confusion as to what this ‘living-god-of-a-man’ was doing asking me out. Hell, I was confused too.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked.

  He laughed, and it was a warm, rich sound. "Can’t a man ask a woman he finds attractive to dinner without getting the third degree?”

  I was so confused about where this conversation was going. It felt like he was barely listening to anything I was saying, letting it go in one ear and out the other while pushing whatever agenda it was that he had.

  "If you’re looking for some kind of sugar baby, I’m not that girl, " I said.

  “Good to know.”

  “And I’m not some easy woman who has sex on the first date, if that’s your expectation.”

  “It’s just dinner.” He slipped his hands into his pockets. "It's just one dinner. Worst case, if you still think I'm as off-putting as you clearly do now, then at least you get a free dinner out of it."

  I opened my mouth to say no and tell him, in my most polite tones, to go fuck himself, but then Laura bugged her eyes out at me from the other side of the counter and mouthed ‘what are you doing? Just go’.

  "Fine," I said after a few minutes of silence. "One dinner."

  He grinned even brighter. "Excellent. Shall I pick you up?"

  "No, you shall not," I grumbled. "I can drive myself, just tell me where to meet you."

  Of course, it was one of the most expensive restaurants in a town full of expensive restaurants, but whatever, he was paying. "What time?" I asked him.

  "Let's say eight," he said. "I'll see you then."

  And then he was gone, without ordering anything, disappearing
like he'd been some kind of fever dream in the first place.

  "Did that really just happen?" I asked Laura, turning around to blink at her in confusion.

  "I think it did. He was very..."

  "Weird. He was weird."

  “I was gonna say oddly charming,” She nodded. "He seemed legitimately interested in you, though. So that's something. Maybe it’s why he’s been showing up all the time." She bumped my shoulder, “He’s in love.”

  I almost choked, “Ugh, yeah. I don’t think so.” I stared out the window to where he had disappeared down the street. “He definitely wants something.”

  “Babe, we all know what he wants. The same thing every man does.”

  “And I just told him he wasn’t going to get it.”

  “If you say so. . .” I laughed, then added, “"If you don't hear from me tonight, it's probably because he murdered me and used me to fertilize the garden of his mansion."

  Laura giggled, shaking her head. "I'll be sure to tell the police that. Maybe it'll be fun? He seems interesting, at least. It will be a nice change of pace!"

  Her optimism was nice, but I wasn't so sure. That was a man who wanted something if I ever saw one, and stuff like that hardly ever went well.

  2

  Killian

  There were people who thought having money fixed everything. My parents were among them. They thought that if you could throw money at a problem, then it wasn't really a problem, and if you had enough money, anything that might turn into a problem would just...go away.

  For the most part, they were right. There were few things that couldn't be fixed with a well-placed bribe or donation to the right fund and being able to afford to do whatever you wanted definitely had its perks.

  But there were sometimes when it was clear something was missing.

  There was a lot to be said for companionship and not being alone, and it was harder to use money to solve that problem.

  Well. Kind of.

  After all, there were plenty of women you could pay for all kinds of favors and nightly exploits, but that wasn't the same.

  My parents had an arranged marriage. It was one of those archaic traditions that still existed with rich people. Families wanted to keep their money and their good genes in the right circles, so daughters would be paraded in front of sons and vice versa, so they could get a good look at each other and see what kind of matches could be made.

  My mother a Bennet of the Hampton Bennett’s, and my father was an Abernathy of the Westchester Abernathy’s. A good match, strong genes, good portfolios. Both definitely boring people.

  They wanted me to have something similar, and I wanted the exact opposite. If I was going to be married, then I was going to find my wife myself. Not because I was desperate for love or anything like that. No, I could do without it, honestly.

  But because I needed something, a few things, actually, and I’d run the numbers. The fastest way for me to get what I wanted was to get married.

  For some reason, I was anxious to explain this to the girl from the coffee shop. She needed the money, obviously, which made her an ideal candidate, but there was something else about her that made me interested. She had a temper, clearly, held in check because we'd been at her workplace. I was fully expecting her to tell me off when we were at dinner and she wasn't obligated to be polite.

  There was a fire to her, a determination in her eyes, and I knew she'd been an interesting challenge. I loved interesting challenges. Puzzles and things you really had to wrap your head around or work hard to understand.

  If she said yes to my proposal, it would most definitely not be boring.

  I arrived at Crest a little before the time we'd agreed to meet. The owner knew me, of course, and the hostess smiled and led me to a table in the center of the dining room.

  I flashed her a grin and pressed a twenty into her hand. "Maybe something a bit more private?" I asked. "My date and I have something very important to discuss tonight."

  "Oh," she said. "Of course, sir. Right this way."

  She led me to a table a bit further back. "How about this?"

  I nodded. "Perfect."

  Excitement coursed through me while I waited. There was so much potential for this to be amazing, and I wanted her to say yes.

  Right at eight, the hostess led her over to my table with a smile. She pulled out the chair for her and handed her a menu before telling us both to enjoy our meals.

  I looked across the table and was once again pleased with what I saw. Obviously, this girl didn’t come from money. She looked like the type who was one second away from lecturing me about the value of a hard day’s work or something equally middle class.

  "Have you ever been here before?" I asked her when she was seated, and she shot me a look.

  "Oh, sure," she said. "I come here all the time. Cocktails with the girls, you know. Dinner with all of my many suitors. They know me by name. I always get the veal."

  I laughed, even though she was being rude. There was just something about her that delighted me. And it didn't hurt that she was beautiful.

  She was wearing a black cocktail dress that did amazing things for her figure, drawing the eye to the curves of her hips and showing off a good amount of cleavage. Her hair was down and fell around her shoulders is auburn curls, and she had on just enough makeup to bring out the fullness of her lips and her bright green eyes.

  She wasn't overdressed or over done, and it was a good look on her.

  "Well," I said. "The veal is very good. I also recommend the swordfish if you're that kind of person."

  "A swordfish kind of person?" she asked, frowning.

  I nodded. "Some people like it more than others. The scallops are good, too."

  She scanned the menu, seeming to relax when there weren't any prices on it. Maybe if she couldn't tell how expensive things were, she wouldn't worry about. Regardless, no matter how the night turned out, I was going to pay for dinner. I owed her that much for her coming to hear me out.

  "I could go for the prime rib," she said. "I haven't had that in a long time."

  "It's very good," I told her. "The bearnaise sauce is excellent."

  "Good to know." She kept her eyes on the menu for the most part, but I could see her darting little glances my way every now and then. She was clearly intrigued, or at least curious, and that was going to work in my favor.

  "I don't usually like to discuss business before we've even ordered, but I think there are some things we should get out of the way first," I said.

  "Like what?" she asked, and the suspicion was back in full force.

  "Like our names, for instance?"

  Her cheeks flushed pink and she wrinkled her nose. "Okay, fair enough."

  I grinned at her. "I'm Killian Abernathy." I watched her face to see if there was any recognition when I said it. There wasn't. Good.

  "Ash," she said simply. When I just kept looking at her, she rolled her eyes. "Ashlyn Everett," she said. "If it pleases you, my lord." That last bit was said in an over the top British accent, and she mimed dipping a curtsy from her chair, and I couldn't help but laugh.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ashlyn Everett. See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

  "It was hard enough. I don't trust you."

  I shrugged a shoulder. "Fair enough. I'm a mysterious man with too much money, who's lured you to a restaurant for dinner. I'd be on my guard, too."

  "Exactly. Why did you?" she asked, clearly trying to get straight to the point.

  “As I said, I saw a woman that intrigued me, and I asked her to her dinner.”

  She rested her chin onto her palm, “And . . .”

  “And what?”

  “Look, I’m already here and the food smells way too good to leave now. So, since I promise not to run off, you can just get to the point. I know there’s something else to it.”

  I remember the moment I first saw her. I’d slipped into the nearest café to free myself from the rain pouring down, and there
she was. Behind the counter, beautiful and fiery with a smile on her face but a sadness in her eyes. Like me, she’d known pain. Known disappointment. I had every intention of walking away since I was far too busy with my own problems; but when I’d overheard her conversation with her coworker, and her dire situation. That’s when the idea came to me.

  “Fair enough. But my first point stands. I am attracted to you, which is the first reason I wanted you to come tonight.”

  “Okay,” She lifted her water flute and stared into it, “And the second reason?”

  I intended to take this in slow steps because I didn’t want to frighten her off, so but she was making that plan exceedingly hard to abide by. I relaxed into my seat, hoping to make myself seem less intense.

  It didn’t always work.

  “I had a proposition of sorts I wanted to discuss with you.”

  “Aha!” She smiled like the cat who’d caught the canary, “And what does this proposition involve?”

  "I really don't discuss business on an empty stomach," I said. "I find it's easier to be...reasonable when I've got some good food in me. And a glass of wine or two."

  She rolled her eyes, not even bothering to hide it. This was what I wanted. Ash wasn't timid, and she wasn't swayed by how much money I had. Not yet, anyway. She wasn't treating me any different from how she would treat some other stranger who was bothering her, even though I could clearly make it worth her while.

  "You're stalling," she accused.

  "No, I'm hungry."

  It was amusing to make her sit through the song and dance of waiting for the waitress to come over and take our orders. I let Ash go first and chose a wine that would pair well with her prime rib and my fish, enjoying the waves of irritation I could feel coming off of her.

  It was a good test. Either she'd sit through it because she wanted to hear what I had to say badly enough, or she'd leave, and that would tell me all I needed to know.