One Bossy Disaster: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Bossy Seattle Suits)
One Bossy Disaster: Chapter 17

Rain splatters the windows of the car as Destiny stares blindly at the glass divider.

I tell the driver, Carl, to just drive us around while we think.

Doesn’t matter where. We just need to get the hell away from that shit show in the restaurant.

“Hey.” I touch her hand. It’s ice-cold and she jerks back, almost like she’s forgotten I’m here, her eyes shiny and blank. “We will fix this, Dess. I promise.”

“What does fixing it even look like?” she whispers.

“We’re going to take Adriana Cerva for everything she has.” I pull her into my arms, and she rests her forehead against the crook of my shoulder.

Her heavy breath goes right through me as she exhales.

Fuck.

It’s an effort to stay calm, but for her, I manage.

Tilting her head up, I kiss her softly.

It’s for me as much as it is for her.

Her eyes are all misty blue today. I miss the green in them. I never noticed just how much vibrant green she has until it’s missing.

More than anything, I want to wrap her in my arms until she forgets this pile of bullshit.

“Dess.” I cup the back of her head and pull her in for another kiss.

Gentle, gentle.

We’re not fucking in the back of this car, no matter how much my cock likes the idea.

After a second, she softens and her mouth moves against mine. But soon, she moves back again and looks at me.

“What if someone sees us?”

“The windows are tinted, sweetheart.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “So you can have hot sex in the back seats?”

“Don’t tempt me.” I brush a knuckle along her chin. “Tell me you’ll be okay. Where’s my bright girl?”

“Yeah. I will be. But they won’t give up, Shepherd. I just know it.”

“No,” I agree, hating it like hell.

“And I froze up back there. I didn’t know what to say. She wants to ruin me, and for what? All because Meghan lost out on the Young Influencers slot? Because she smells blood in the water and thinks you’re dumb enough to be blackmailed? It’s insanity.”

Before I can answer, my phone vibrates.

So does Destiny’s at the same time.

I immediately regret looking at the screen.

My alerts are going off like screeching bats with another damn video of Meghan Tea’s, already raking in the views. It’s only been up for less than an hour.

This shit had to be pre-recorded.

The girl who couldn’t say a word in the restaurant suddenly has more energy than a hyperactive lab. Destiny’s eyes gleam with unshed tears as she watches Meghan talk about ‘wild new developments.’

She slings a crapload of new accusations about the forced nature of our relationship. Glimpses of the explicit photographs her mother threw at us flash across the screen.

Plus, plenty of edited clips with Vanessa Dumas talking about how I used her. What else?

My rage is fucking nuclear.

Not for myself, no, but for Destiny.

Sure, I can sue them into the ground for defamation—and I absolutely will.

I can wring them dry until they’re begging for mercy.

They’re doing this the messiest way imaginable, so I’m sure the case would be a slam dunk.

But the damage is being done to Destiny’s reputation every second this open sewer keeps flowing. Their only edge, and the one thing I can never take back.

I’m sure that’s the point.

Everything legal moves at a crawl, no matter how talented your lawyers are.

Even if we take them to court and win, they’ll keep piping this out for days, weeks, however long they have before they’re hit with a gag order, and even then, they could keep using minions.

The public at large will lap it up as long as it keeps coming.

This society loves its filth whenever it involves the rich and famous, and the only thing they love more is when it’s thrown to them like Komodo dragons with a slab of beef.

To hell with my reputation.

That was half shot to shit with Vanessa’s accusations. I can weather the storm.

But this bright young girl, who wants nothing more than to help endangered marine life… why the fuck does she have to suffer?

Because she fell into my orbit.

Because I signed on to Miss Cho’s scheme against my better judgment, but she’s also not to blame.

Destiny is being savaged because I let myself think I needed someone else to save me.

Another woman hurt, and I can’t stop it fast enough.

Just like Serena.

She might not die or provoke a scorned lover into shooting me, but she’ll have to live with closed doors, harassment, hideous insinuations, plus every goddamned dickhead in a position of power treating her like an earthworm because of these lies.

Goddamn.

I really am poison ivy.

It’s hard to look at her as she sits curled across my lap, nestled in my arms.

At least I can still give her comfort, for now, despite the way it makes me feel like a tool.

Her breath shudders as she lets the phone fall into her lap, leaning against me again. I pull her closer.

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice is so faint I almost don’t hear it.

“This isn’t your fault. Don’t apologize.”

Hell, until she signed on to our program, she was just as squeaky clean as Hannah promised.

This is entirely on me.

Both for being a walking scandal magnet, and because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants when I needed to.

If I hadn’t touched her and kissed her and erupted like a volcano on that trip, there wouldn’t be any salacious photos floating around at all.

She deserves so much better.

“I’m telling you, I’ll replace a way,” I promise darkly, though the words are empty and we both know it.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she says. “We’re both in this.”

Maybe so, but dammit, we shouldn’t be.

I hold her tighter, ignoring the widening distance she puts between us.

I can’t reach past the blankness in her eyes.

Something about the meeting has clearly shaken her to the core, and no matter how close she is, her mind feels like it’s a universe away.

I can’t reach her now.

I shouldn’t want to, but I do.

“You can talk to me,” I tell her. “We’re going to power through this. I don’t give a fuck what lawyers that liar has—mine are better, I assure you.”

After everything that happened with my uncle, witness protection, and Serena, I know the value of a solid legal team.

“I don’t doubt it,” she says, resting her head on my shoulder. “I just wonder if it’s the only way to set things right…”

I already know it’s not simply because it’s too fucking slow.

But what else is there?

Closing my eyes, we breathe together, until the silence feels more natural.

Still, that doesn’t mean it’s right.

There’s just nothing else left for us here right now.

I give the driver directions to Destiny’s apartment, and after dropping her off, head back to the office to think.

It’s late enough in the day, there’s no one else working except Hannah.

“Trying hard for that pay raise, I see. Go home,” I tell her later as I walk past her into my office.

“Soon, Mr. Foster.”

I grunt and shut the door behind me, walking behind my desk and dropping down in my leather power chair.

This thing between Destiny and me, whatever it is, has to end.

This time for real.

We agreed it would after the weekend, and yes, I’m well aware I’m the asshole who can’t stay away.

Dark thoughts swirl around me like a cloud of flies.

I should just release Dess from her obligations at Home Shepherd. Hell, I should scrap the entire program, double the money she gets, and help her set up her nonprofit.

No one else can screw her over based on rumors if she’s the chief.

Mostly, I need her away from me.

Before I can taint her more than I already have.

Snarling, I open the bottom drawer I normally keep locked and pull out a bottle of bourbon and a glass I only keep around for emergencies.

Tonight is a goddamned crisis.

One shot rolls down my stomach and explodes, fanning fire into my blood.

There’s no turning back.

After I’ve unleashed the legal hounds on Adriana, I’ll let her go.

I’ll do whatever I can to send her off to a better life than the one she has if she keeps working under me, a walking target for more punishment.

This weekend, that’s when I’ll tell her. When we take the yacht out to talk and try to spot the sei whales one last time.

No sex.

No kissing.

Not even touching a hair on her head.

Just one last bittersweet joyride to enjoy her presence and the way she lights up my inner darkness like the sunrise made flesh.

One last parting hit of the addiction she’s become from a safe distance.

Then it’s cold turkey, and she’ll be free to follow her dreams without being mired in my nightmares.

Fuck, after her, maybe I need rehab.

Is it possible to be physiologically dependent on another human being?

The thought draws a bitter laugh out of me and I pour a few more fingers of booze.

I swallow wrong on my next shot. It hurts like hell on the way down.

Whatever.

Today, I need the pain.

But before I can fall too deep into the torture pit of self-hatred, there’s yelling from outside my door.

I shove the glass aside as I stride over and rip the door open.

I’m not ready for what I see.

Hannah, damned near frog-marching Mark out of the elevator toward my office, yelling at him to keep moving.

And Hannah Cho never yells.

Mark, he’s a human tomato with a beard, sullen-faced and sulky and staring at the floor.

“What the hell’s going on?” I ask.

“That’s what I’d like to replace out, Mr. Foster.” She swings around to face me. It’s like flicking a switch, and she’s back to her impeccably controlled self. “Why don’t you explain my replaceings, Mr. Cantor? Or I will.”

Mark’s jaw sets. He won’t look up from the floor as she waits impatiently.

“Okay! My turn,” Hannah says with a hint of a brutal smile. “Jacob from IT found the missing drone this morning—the real one—and turned it in. Its transponder was barely working. The unit was broken apart, sitting in a dumpster behind a Sweeter Grind café in Ballard. It seems Mark removed the tracking chip from the prototype before he stole it, but not the embedded backup GPS chip you decided to have installed for additional security. Presumably so he could use it to track you on your sea otter excursion.”

My eyes snap to Mark like angry hornets.

I’m ready to tear his head off, but there’s one nagging question first.

“How?” I clip. “The research lab is locked down tighter than a vault.”

This time, Hannah smiles.

“Well, it seems he forgot his access badge automatically logs entry, even if he’s not authorized for access. The only time he entered the product development lab was with Carol Garcia at the same time—or rather, with her badge. That’s how he disarmed the tracking chip and stole the unit from the lab. Carol confirmed she lost her badge and went looking for half an hour, right around the time Mr. Cantor generously supplied her with a cinnamon roll and coffee at her desk. He had no business being there without her,” Hannah rattles off. “Honestly, I might not have noticed the discrepancy enough to ask, except for the fact that Mr. Cantor brought three teams cinnamon rolls from the very same Sweeter Grind shop on five different occasions. Circumstantial, yes, but when I found him working late and decided to ask about his lab visit with Carol, he wasn’t exactly cooperative.”

Yeah.

I don’t deserve this brilliant of an assistant.

With my arms folded, I turn my attention to Mark, whose jaw works tightly. His fists are clenched. I know the look of a man who’s trying like mad to come up with believable lies to save his skin.

“Is it true?” I ask blankly.

He stays deathly quiet.

“Answer Mr. Foster, please,” Hannah says, her voice as frigid as mine. “There’s no point in lying, Mr. Cantor. I practically caught you red-handed.”

Finally, he looks up, his eyes narrowed, staring straight at me.

“Fine, fine,” he snaps. “Yeah, I did it. I took the drone. I also got access to Hannah’s schedule book, so I knew exactly where you were. I traced the route from Destiny’s pictures. I followed you with the drone. I took the pictures. There, happy?”

Not while this little punk is still breathing.

“And then?” Hannah presses.

Mark hesitates, his mouth twisting until he sighs.

“Then… then I sold them to Adriana Cerva.” For the first time, he grins like he’s proud of himself. “If you want me to say I’m sorry, I won’t. Honestly, people like you deserve to be dragged through the mud. Greedy billionaire pricks, hoarding your money and handing out the easy rewards to girls you want to bang. You leave the scraps to guys like me, barely enough to make a damn living in this city. And dude, I know she’s pretty, but she’s almost young enough to be your daughter.”

My fist feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as I strain to hold it back from caving his face in.

“You done, little man?” I grind out.

He nods.

“Just so I understand, you decided to slink around like a coward and help soulless assholes spin rumors because you feel entitled to my money? My life? Is that it?”

His face wrinkles with jealousy again.

“What did you even do to deserve it, Foster? I’m glad I took those photos.” He steps back and throws his hands up. “Fuck it, I should’ve done more. Ruined you forever, and that stupid girl, too. She’s another Insta-slut, using her looks for favors. Sleeping with you to get ahead.”

He’s visibly shaking now. It’s a whimper against the hurricane in my blood.

“You done?” I growl again.

“No. She pretends to be all sweet, but I know better. For a rich guy, you’re pretty oblivious. She’s a Lancaster. She’s never worked an honest day in her life.”

The bullshit he’s spewing sends rage charging through me, but I don’t need to do anything to him. He’s incriminating himself perfectly well without my help.

Hannah gives me a knowing look. I already know she has everything documented and she’s probably crawling out of her skin to play witness.

“Anything else you want to add, Cantor?” I demand.

“Yeah—fuck you! I hope you die alone of stomach cancer in a sewer. Always acting like you’re better than us, than me.”

Entitled little shit.

He can’t even come up with decent insults.

“I think that should do it,” Hannah says flatly. “Washington is a two-party consent state, meaning we can’t directly record this conversation without his permission. However, every employee agrees to corporate security terms when they accept any position here. That includes consenting to anything captured by the security cameras in this hallway.”

It’s almost too good.

The way he’s damned himself dawns on his face with a delightful slowness as it slowly sinks in. He’s just shot his own legs off.

“A little friendly advice.” I fold my arms, staring him down. “If you’re going to lose your temper like a ten-year-old, don’t do it in front of people who can bury you alive.”

He’s flushed red and speechless, his mouth moving like a fish out of water.

All that fuckwit righteous anger fades right out of him as he staggers back. “You… you can’t do this. Recording people against their will—”

“Oh, you’re a lawyer now? Did you even read the terms of employment the day you signed on?” I raise my eyebrows and his shoulders slouch. “Go ahead. Remind me of all the ways I’ve infringed your rights, Mark Cantor.”

He says nothing as his face drops.

“Also, for the record, your salary is thirty percent above living wage and includes quarterly bonuses,” I say. “That’s ninety percent above the going rate for interns in the Seatac area. It was, considering your position, incredibly generous. Now, it’s revoked. Consider yourself terminated immediately.”

Goddamn, that feels good.

Hannah nods. “I’ll have the paperwork sorted tonight with HR.”

Mark starts to slink off, but not before I call after him.

“I suggest you plan on a late night replaceing a lawyer.” I let myself smirk as he turns back to glower at me. “I should probably also thank you for the ironclad evidence you provided against Miss Cerva. This simplifies everything.”

It does, and I should be reveling in it.

But it can’t silence every disgusting whisper online instantly.

It can’t undo the insinuations that make Destiny Lancaster look like a rich girl who traded her body for a leg up.

“Go on,” I snarl, mostly for my benefit before I do something I can’t take back.

The blood drains from his cheeks and his neck goes splotchy.

“You won’t win this,” he flings back. “Y-you can’t. Just wait and see.”

I give him a subzero smile.

Right now, I’m perfectly capable of wringing his scrawny little neck, but that’s not going to help anything.

“I can and I will. I’ll be pressing the highest level criminal charges against you for theft and stalking.”

“What? Criminal? No, I—” His throat bobs as his voice breaks off. He has nothing left to say as fear chokes him. “I’ll… I’ll get a lawyer.”

“Let’s hope it’s a good one,” I growl.

With one last frazzled stare, he turns and starts moving.

I hold up a hand and look at Hannah. “Wait until he’s in the lobby. It’s always the timing that counts.”

With a neat shrug, she leans against the wall, counting in her head.

Approximately thirty seconds later, she taps her phone a few times and holds it up to her ear.

“Hello, security. Hi, this is Hannah Cho from the executive office and I’d like to report a theft on company premises. Yes, he’s still in the building. The police are standing by? Wonderful.”