The Wrong Boss: Chapter 14

Carrie said thank you to the doorman who let us into my building, then allowed me to guide her to the elevators. My heart was still thumping irregularly, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the shock of the accident, the blood drying on the side of her head, or the fact that Carrie was actually here, in my building, at my side.

So, actually, I knew exactly why my heart was acting all weird. It’s because I was furious.

Furious that she was finally here, but I couldn’t have her. Furious that my driver had gotten us into that situation. That Carrie had been hurt.

Furious at how powerless I was to change any of it.

Mashing the elevator button, I lashed myself for my thoughts.

I didn’t want her. The person I’d met seven years ago was a figment of my imagination, and I was engaged to another woman. A beautiful woman who was exactly my type.

A beautiful woman who treated sex like it was transactional, who made me feel less at home in her arms than I did alone in my office.

Gritting my teeth against the intrusive thoughts, I pressed the button for my floor. My apartment took up the entire twenty-second floor. I’d bought it only recently, when Alba and I got engaged. Along with wedding preparations, she’d remodeled the whole place—and she’d done a great job.

Another reason I should be appreciative of her.

We exited the elevator directly into an interior foyer. I guided Carrie around a small table bearing a large bouquet of fresh flowers that seemed to get refreshed by magic every couple of days—Alba’s influence, again—and led her to the small living room on the south side of the residence that I preferred.

“Take a seat,” I told her. “Doc should be here within half an hour.” I’d called my physician on the way here, which meant that now I didn’t know what to do with myself.

“Do you mind if I go clean up in the washroom?” Carrie asked, gesturing to her head.

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” I said. She set the bundles of wedding stationery down on a side table and followed my directions. After watching her turn the corner, I let out a deep breath and crossed the space to the mini bar.

Once I had a drink in my hand, I called Kaia. She answered saying, “I heard about the accident. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. That’s the second time Paulie’s been reckless while driving me.” The first time had been a fender bender outside the office building, when he’d pulled into traffic and bashed the nose of the car into a passing cab.

Kaia inhaled. “Do you—do you want me to get him into a defensive driving course?”

I took a sip of my drink and exhaled. I was clearly still under the influence of my own wonky emotions—or maybe the influence of Carrie’s presence—because instead of demanding that Paulie be let go, I said, “Get it done,” and hung up the phone.

“You’re home early,” my fiancée said behind me.

I turned to see her stepping into the room. She wore a crisp white button-down that had a faint sheen. It opened at the throat to reveal two stacked gold necklaces and the fine line of her throat. She’d tucked the shirt into wide-leg pants of a deep orange color, and her heels clacked on the imported Japanese hardwood floors for a few steps until she glided onto the rug that dominated the room.

She moved like water, graceful and sensual. I was lucky to have her, even if the look she gave me was a touch suspicious.

“Got in a minor car accident,” I said. “One of my employees was hurt, so we’re waiting for Dr. Harnell.”

Alba’s brows jumped slightly. “You brought one of your employees here?”

“We were picking up the wedding invitations when it happened, and she refused to go to the hospital.” I gestured to the side table where the bundles of invitations and envelopes lay waiting.

“I see,” Alba said, crossing to the table. She tore open one of the packages and pulled out an invitation, holding it between manicured fingers as she inspected it. Tilting it back and forth in the light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Alba pursed her lips. Then she tossed the invitation down on the side table, apparently satisfied.

We both turned as Carrie’s footsteps approached. She’d wiped the blood off her face and fixed her hair, but there was already a shadow of a bruise darkening her temple. Her gaze jumped from me to Alba, and then she painted a polite, professional smile on her lips.

“Hi. You must be the future Mrs. Christianson,” she said, extending a hand toward my fiancée. “I’m Carrie.”

I grabbed the drink I’d fixed earlier and took a sip to distract myself from my discomfort. There was no reason for me to feel uncomfortable. Nothing was going on between me and Carrie. Nothing would go on between us. She was just like the rest of my employees; the fact that we’d had an encounter nearly a decade ago didn’t change that.

“Carrie,” Alba repeated. “I don’t think I’ve heard of you before.”

“It’s my first day,” she explained, and my fiancée’s brows climbed higher. “Just joined the executive assistant team this morning.”

Alba flicked her all-seeing eyes to me and then back to Carrie. “Well, I’m sorry to hear your first day involved a car accident.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, waving a hand. “That’s just Co—Mr. Christianson being overprote—being a good boss.”

At every stumble, Alba’s head tilted farther and farther to the side. “I see,” she said, and I was very much afraid she saw a little too much.

“Carrie was able to fix an unfixable travel schedule within an hour of starting with the company,” I cut in, which only made Alba’s head turn toward me, but didn’t fix the suspicious look in her eyes. “So I put her in charge of the wedding invitations.”

“The typos are fixed,” Carrie added, looking down at the invitation that Alba had deposited on the table. “Does the gold shade match what you had in mind?”

“Yes, it looks good,” Alba said, but it didn’t sound like she was happy. A chime alerted us to a visitor, so Alba straightened and said, “That must be the doctor. I’ll bring him in.”

Carrie’s cheeks flushed, and she avoided my gaze as Alba walked out of the room. A minute later, Alba returned with Dr. Harnell. My fiancée took a seat on one of the sofas as the doctor examined my newest assistant, her eyes occasionally sliding over to me.

“How was your day?” I asked, taking a seat next to her and extending my arm across the back of the sofa behind her. It felt awkward and uncomfortable to do, which was probably due to the jitters of the car accident and not at all because we were sitting across from the woman I’d fantasized about for years.

“My day was fine. Less exciting than yours, I gather.”

I snorted. “That’s not a bad thing.”

Across from us, the doctor pulled a light out of his bag. “I’ll just have a look at your eyes,” the doctor told Carrie. He directed her to stare at his finger while he shone a light at her eyes.

I glanced away and found Alba staring at me, frowning.

“Everything okay?” I probed.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing. You have some blood…” She reached over to tilt my jaw up, her nail skimming against my stubble. “You have some blood on your jaw and your shirt, darling. Maybe the doctor should have a look at you when he’s done with your assistant.”

“Oh, I’m fine. It’s probably Carrie’s,” I blurted. Alba blinked at me, so I added, “I helped her out of the car after the accident.”

“Of course,” she replied.

Discomfort sloshed through me. I nodded as my fiancée made her excuses and left the room, then tossed the rest of my drink back while the doctor finished his examination.

“I’d recommend taking the rest of the day off, but as long as you don’t get a headache, dizziness, nausea, or blurriness, then you should be okay to resume light duties tomorrow,” the doctor said, packing his things back up. “You feel any of those symptoms, take yourself to urgent care.”

“Thanks, Doc,” she said, getting up to shake his hand.

“And you?” Dr. Harnell asked me. “How are you feeling?”

“Just fine,” I replied, which was a lie. I felt out of sorts and off-balance. I felt torn apart. I felt like a piece of shit, because I’d been caught up in Carrie all day when I should have been loyal to the woman I’d promised myself to.

The foundation of what I stood for—of who I was—had taken a blow today. I saw myself as a man who put loyalty above all else. That’s why it had been so hard for me to quit the Blakely Advertising Agency. It’s why my relationship with Rome had recovered, and why I’d been able to forge a bond with my father when I’d finally reached out to him.

I wasn’t the kind of man who went against his word. I didn’t cheat. I didn’t lie. I didn’t steal.

People saw that. Rome had seen it, and he’d come around and forgiven me for quitting. My father had given me a shot at his company when I’d been looking for something new. Loyalty begot loyalty.

Sure, I wasn’t the most generous man in the world. I was a hard boss to work for, and I had exacting standards. I didn’t trust easily, and I’d never been one to think that intimacy and love were anything other than a Hallmark lie. I had my flaws, just like everyone else.

But once someone gained my trust, I was loyal to the core.

So how could I even think about Carrie in any way but as an employee? How could I allow myself to get caught up in the panic of her injury, in the magnetism of her presence?

She wasn’t special. This wasn’t some soul-deep connection. It was a flash of lust, and I wouldn’t let it change me.

“Next time you’re in a car accident,” Dr. Harnell told us both, “I suggest going to the hospital.”

“Right,” Carrie said, a tight smile on her face. As the doctor packed his things up, she grabbed her own purse. “I’ll head down with you,” she told the doctor.

“I’ll call you a car,” I said, grabbing my phone.

“Oh, that’s okay.” She waved me off. “I’d rather take the subway.”

“Carrie,” I warned.

“Mr. Christianson, please. The subway is just fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

We stared at each other for a beat, and I couldn’t help the tug in my gut. Frustration lanced through me, because I couldn’t figure out why this woman had such a hold on me. It made no sense. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she had strength that I admired. Yes, she made me laugh.

So what?

“See you in the morning,” I replied, and I let the two of them find their own way to the exit.

I was halfway through my second drink, my feet kicked up on the coffee table, when Alba reappeared in the living room archway. She crossed the space and poured some bourbon into a glass before dropping an ice cube into the amber liquid, then turned around to face me, the glass dangling between her fingertips.

I leaned forward and grabbed the bundle of wedding invitations off the side table beside me, studying them. “You’re happy with these now?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“And the florist—what was the problem there?”

“Cole.”

“I’m sorry. I know I should have listened. You had to hire someone new⁠—”

“Cole.” Her voice was quiet and hard.

I turned to meet her gaze. “Yes?”

Her blue eyes were steady as she met my gaze. Unflinching. She was strong too—I should’ve remembered that. It wasn’t just her appearance that had attracted me to her.

But when she spoke, I felt like I was talking to a stranger. “I’m not the type of woman who expects complete loyalty from her husband. I know how these things go. But I would appreciate it”—she held up a hand when I tried to interrupt her, so I closed my lips—“I would appreciate it if you waited until after the wedding to have any dalliances.”

“Alba,” I protested. “I’m not— It’s… You’ve got the wrong idea. Carrie is my employee.”

“That’s another thing that I would point out, but I’ll let you handle the consequences of your own actions. All I ask is that you don’t make a fool out of me. Especially not seven and a half months before our wedding day.”

Her words were a slap in the face. A heavy silence settled between us.

I took a sip of my drink. “Are you saying you’re expecting me to cheat on you?”

“I’m saying that I have realistic expectations for any union, and ours is no different. But I won’t tolerate being the butt of anyone’s joke.”

Heat rose up my neck. Her words stung. Was that really what she thought of me? When I spoke, my words were clipped. “Alba. I’m not, and I never have been, unfaithful.”

Her shrug was casual, and it felt like a dagger in the chest. “I’m just telling you where I stand.”

“We’re getting married, Alba. That means something to me.”

For the first time since she’d broached the subject, the cold facade cracked, and she gave me a sad smile. “It means something to me too. Which is exactly why I wanted to have this conversation.”

“What, it means keeping your image intact?” I snapped.

“Among other things.”

“What about commitment? What about loyalty?”

“I’ll be as loyal to you as you are to me, Cole.”

“This isn’t—” I cut myself off, because I didn’t know what I wanted to say. I didn’t even know why this conversation filled me with such revulsion and anger.

I wasn’t a sentimental guy, but I wasn’t a piece of shit who’d stray on his wife, either. I didn’t believe in true love, but that didn’t mean my wedding vows would be empty words.

I took a deep breath and faced my wife-to-be. “I’m not going to cheat on you, Alba. With Carrie or anyone else.”

She held my gaze for a long moment. I was telling her the truth. No matter what memories Carrie had awoken within me, it didn’t change who I was. I was a man of my word. Always.

Had I been thrown by Carrie’s reappearance in my life? Yes. It would be a lie to say anything else. But did that mean I’d toss everything away to indulge my attraction from seven years ago?

Absolutely fucking not.

Alba let out a long breath and dipped her chin. “Good,” she said, then set her glass of bourbon aside. “In that case, we had an agreement.”

She stood up, stepped toward me, and in a sensuous movement, got down on her knees between my legs. The orange fabric of her pants puddled on the rug like a rust stain. Her hands slid up my thighs and reached for my belt buckle, but I put my palms over hers to still the movement.

“Stop, Alba. I don’t—” I shook my head. “I don’t want this.”

She sat back on her heels, looking possibly more offended at the thought of me rejecting her advances than she did when she was so casually discussing me breaking the wedding vows we were planning on saying to each other.

And that pissed me right off.

“You don’t need to reward me for completing a task like I’m some sort of dog, Alba,” I snapped. “I don’t want this unless you want to do it.”

Unless it felt the way it had in that hotel room, when Carrie⁠—

No. I wouldn’t compare them. How could a few hours with a woman I didn’t know even come close to a two-year relationship?

Closing my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Alba huffed, and a soft rustle of fabric told me she’d gotten to her feet. “Fine. I’ll be out tonight, so don’t wait up for me.”

“I’m leaving for LA in the morning,” I told her. “Depending on how the meeting goes, I might have to stay the night.”

“And I’m heading to my mother’s tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be back on Sunday night. Have a good rest of the week.”

I nodded and opened my eyes in time to see her striding out of the room. That was it. After that disaster of a conversation, we wouldn’t see each other for days.

Bitterness coated the back of my throat as she turned the corner. Bitterness—and shame.

Because the thought of having the rest of the week to myself filled me with relief.

Not for the first time, I wondered if I was making a mistake in marrying her. Not because she was a bad person, or because we didn’t have some compatibilities—but because I wondered if I’d underestimated what a marriage could be.

It wasn’t a business partnership. It wasn’t the transactional exchange of favors. It was something more.

Wasn’t it?

Or maybe I was kidding myself, wrapped up in the memories of a woman who’d slipped through my fingers after a single encounter.

Was I really ready to blow up my engagement—and possibly my relationship with my father—by deciding that this engagement wasn’t right for me?

Padding to my home office, I crossed to my desk and fished my keys out of my pocket. Using the tiniest key on my keyring, I unlocked the top left drawer of the desk and then sat down in my chair. Pulling the drawer open, I reached to the back of the drawer and took out a small box. I flipped it open and stared at its contents for long, silent moments.

A sigh eased through my lips, and I put the box back where I’d found it. The lock on the drawer clicked shut, and I put my keys back in my pocket. There was no use dwelling on things that didn’t matter.

I was getting married. I was doing my father proud by taking up the reins at his company. I was living the life I was meant to live. That’s what mattered.

Not a ghost from my past.

The only thing I knew for certain was that if I was going to untangle this mess, I had to keep my distance from Carrie. Leaning back in my desk chair, I let my head fall back so I could stare at the ceiling. I probably should have fired Carrie when I had the chance.