Boss I Love To Hate Page 13

  When I shook him off, his hands framed my shoulders again.

  “Brad, I have to go!”

  “Breathe, Sonia.”

  I blew out a breath and puckered my mouth into a pouty fish face.

  “There. Feel better? And, now, go brush your teeth. I think we have some extra toothbrushes upstairs.” He scrunched his nose as though my breath stank.

  Did it? Oh, who the hell cared?

  “Brad! I’m serious.”

  He gently shook me. “And I’m kidding. Hey, let’s just divide and conquer, just like in business.” He tipped up my chin. “What do you need to do?”

  “Hair, makeup, get dressed.” My voice came out in huffed, broken puffs to match my rapidly beating heart. “I need to leave and race to my hair appointment.”

  He checked the clock on the wall. “You’ll never make it.”

  I shrugged him off. “Duh. I need to beg the salon to take me, like, right now.” I searched my purse and came up empty-handed and then rushed back to the family room. “Where’re my keys?” I paced the room, throwing the pillows and blankets on the couch. “Keys? Where are you?”

  He shuffled behind me, picking up his phone from underneath another bed of pillows.

  “Keys, Brad!”

  Is he purposely ignoring me?

  Great, he is making a call. What the heck is this guy doing?

  “Hello, Selene.” He smirked and then eyed me with amusement. “Yes, I need a big favor.” And another laugh.

  “Brad!” I gave him my evil stare and then dropped to my knees, looking underneath the couch, hunting for my keys. I needed to go, and stat.

  “I’m going to a wedding today, and my date needs hair and makeup done. Is your team available this morning?”

  On all fours, I peered up at him, confused.

  “Thanks. I’ll text you her address. Yes. Nine-thirty will work. I owe you. Put it on my tab.” He ended his call and extended a hand to help me up. “There, done.”

  “Who’s Selene?” I asked.

  “She owns a salon on the Gold Coast.”

  My hand flew to the base of my throat. “Selene Clives on Michigan Ave?” I whispered.

  This man knew the Selene. Selene was a household name. Where Martha Stewart was known for all things home, Selene was known for all things beauty. Her clientele included all the A-list stars who walked the red carpet.

  I blinked. “I can’t afford Selene.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” He handed me my keys. “Nine thirty, Sonia. Chop-chop. They’ll meet you at your apartment.” Then, he pulled me up and slapped my ass.

  I didn’t have time to chastise him. I was already out the door and in my car without a good-bye. For once, I was grateful for his connections.

  * * *

  An hour and a half later, I straightened in a chair in my kitchen, held a mirror up, and gawked at the woman staring back at me. Her brown hair was swept up with curls on the top of her head, and her makeup was immaculate. Transformation was an understatement. With my contacts on, a fresh coat of mascara, my eyebrows freshly waxed and trimmed, and makeup by the magical Selene team, I didn’t even recognize myself.

  “Well, darling. Do you like it?”

  I peered up at Juan, Carole, and Nette.

  When Brad had told me a team of beauticians would be coming to my house, he wasn’t joking. The three of them, all dressed in black, had strolled into my mini apartment, each armed with a suitcase and ready to beautify. Juan was hair, Carole was makeup, and Nette was wax and plucking and had interned with the great Anastasia, the eyebrow-plucking queen.

  “I love it.” I touched my newly waxed eyebrows and tilted my chin, taking in cheekbones I’d never known I had. Contouring did wonders.

  I felt like a princess, pretty in a light-pink lipstick to match the blush on my cheeks. “You guys did amazing. Thank you so, so, so, so much.”

  When I offered to tip them, they waved me off.

  “Please, honey,” Juan began. “Brad has tipped us well over what is normal. You’re good.” He placed his brushes in his oversize pouch and zipped it up.

  “Over is an understatement,” Carole added with a wink. “I hope you have another made-up evening real soon. Have fun.”

  After our farewell greeting, they left, and I nearly skipped to the bathroom. I shut the door and took in the beauty in my full-length mirror that hung on the back of my door.

  “Wow. Take that, Replacement Girl.” I popped out a hip and pushed out my nonexistent chest. “This is going to be fun.”

  An hour later, I slipped into the body-hugging, boob-enhancing, floor-length, backless dress. The shimmery blue V-neck spaghetti strap dress fit tightly up to my thighs and then tapered off in waves of simple ruffled fabric and into a mermaid tail. But the showstopper was the back of the dress—or lack thereof—where the beginning of the fabric cinched at my tailbone.

  The knock on the door had my body tensing.

  “One second.” I did one more mirror check. Then, I grabbed my purse, slipped on my heels, and rushed to the door. “Brad?”

  “Did you invite someone else to this wedding?”

  Crap. There was no way he could come into my apartment. First and foremost, it was a mess. Second … my eyes followed the poster of him full of dart holes on my wall.

  Yep. Nope, can’t let him see that.

  “Coming.” I hurried and slipped into the hallway, and my eyes took him in.

  All of him. In a tailored navy-blue suit, a skinny gray tie, and a smile that could drop panties anywhere.

  Goodness, Brad was a fine sight.

  My thought from earlier popped back into my head. Yes, this was going to be fun.

  * * *

  Brad

  I blinked. Whatever I was going to say got jammed in my throat.

  From the curls to the light sheen of pink on her cheeks and lips and the dress that fit as though it had been made for her, Sonia was magnificent—a princess in real fucking life.

  “You’re beautiful,” I whispered without a second thought.

  She stared, quietly, and her piercing eyes locked with mine. Then, as though she snapped back to attention, she playfully slapped my shoulder. “You aren’t too bad yourself.”

  Without her eyeglasses, her brown eyes shone brighter. She looked like a different woman—still Sonia, but enhanced—one who showed her beauty and didn’t hide it.

  She turned around and headed to the elevators, and I stopped breathing. Her bare back was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. I wanted to run my finger from the base to the top of her slim, pale neck and then back down again but this time with my tongue.

  I swallowed.

  Shit, I was in trouble. Deep shit trouble because I doubted all the self-control in the world and all the big-brother threats would keep me away from this woman.

  This was going to be an interesting night. That was for sure.

  When we stepped off the elevator and into the lobby, a low, hoarse whistle had me turning to the side.

  “Hot damn, Sonia.”

  A taller male with light hair and dark gray eyes and a coffee mug in hand walked toward us. When he reached for Sonia, my whole body tensed.

  “Kyle.” She lit up, moved toward him, and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him in greeting. “You’re back from South America.”

  My jaw locked, and I stifled a growl in my throat. Where the hell did that come from?

  When he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, my hands fisted at my sides.

  “I am. Just got back yesterday.” He held her at arm’s length, and his eyes took her in from the curls on the top of her head to her sexy neckline.

  When his hand skimmed the bare of her back, I gritted my teeth and forced my body to stay put even though every molecule in me wanted to pounce and pull her back against me.

  He wanted her. There was no doubt. I could read it in the way he leaned into her, the look of longing in his eyes. I could also read that Sonia
was utterly clueless about it.

  They made small talk before I cleared my throat and introduced myself. I stepped between them and offered my hand. “Brad.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sonia said. “Brad, Kyle. Kyle, Brad.” She motioned between us, and his smile slipped as though he’d just noticed I was in the room.

  For shit’s sake, we’d walked down together.

  “Hey, man.” Then, he eyed Sonia with curiosity. “Date?”

  “Wedding,” she clarified as if tonight were nothing.

  He blinked back up at me. “Brad Brisken?”

  I smirked, wondering where he’d seen me. Crains Business Magazine perhaps. “The one and only.”

  He let out an all-knowing laugh that grated on my nerves and then turned to Sonia. “When did this happen? I thought you hated this guy.”

  All my muscles tensed. “Excuse me?” I stepped into him, but Sonia grabbed my arm, yanking me toward her.

  “It’s fine.” An anxious, high-pitched laugh escaped her. “We’re fine. Everything is fine.” She was already making her way toward the door with me in tow when she yelled back, “Brad is doing me a favor. I’ll explain everything later, Kyle.”

  I turned toward her and narrowed my eyes. “You really hate me that much?” Am I that much of an asshole to her at work?

  “I’ll explain.”

  I opened the door to my Porsche 918 Spyder, closed the door behind her, then hopped into the car.

  “This feels like a toy car.” Her hand brushed against my dashboard, and she adjusted her seat to give her more leg room. “I like that it has that new-car smell.”

  Talk about queen of diversion.

  I turned to her. “Explain.”

  She averted her gaze, looking down at her hands that wrung in her lap. “I … I complain about you sometimes.”

  “Why?”

  That forced her head up. “Why? Because you’re a jerk.”

  She pulled back as though that wasn’t what was supposed to come out of her mouth, but I’d take it. I didn’t want our normal glossed-over relationship. I wanted honesty from her.

  “I’m not,” I argued. “I treat you with the utmost respect.”

  “Yes, when you’re in a good mood.” The sass was back in her tone, and I welcomed it. “But the problem is, you’re not in a good mood all the time, and you take it out on everyone around you. Plus, you make me do things that are not a secretary’s job.”

  “That’s our relationship. I push at you. You give it right back.”

  She thought I was an asshole. I’d never been a purposeful asshole. That was just our relationship. Fun and games, but work still got done.

  My muscles turned rigid. “I want examples.”

  She reeled back. “What?”

  “Yes.” I tapped my fist against the steering wheel. “Real-life examples.”

  “Oh, let me count the ways.” She lifted one hand and began to tick off instances. “How about when you were already home, and I had to come to the office to throw away the bra of your recent rendezvous because you didn’t want to get in trouble with Charles?”

  Shit. I’d made it up to her, right? Okay, that was a douche move. But I’d bought her favorite doughnuts and coffee the next day.

  “Or how about when you made me get your dry cleaning, and it wasn’t clean enough, so you made me go to another dry cleaner to get it done the same day?”

  “They’d done a shitty job.”

  “Well, you know that’s not a secretary’s job, right?” She glared at me with burning eyes. “I was doing you a favor.” She continued. “Or how about when you made Chris, the new grad accountant, cry, and I was the one who had to console him? You didn’t know about that one, did you?”

  I shrank back into my seat.

  She ticked off a fourth finger. “Or how about when the coffee spilled at that important meeting with that big honcho guy and I was helping to clean it up, and you embarrassed me and told me to get out of the office?”

  Fifth finger. “How about the many times I’ve gotten your coffee, your lunch, fixed your schedule, including your three-week haircuts, and I hardly hear a thank you? Do I need to go on? Because this could be an all-day event, and we have a wedding to get to.”

  Shit.

  I hung my head because she was right. About everything. I stared at the couple walking past my car, checking out the vehicle, checking out Sonia and me. A woman in a skirt suit passed, carrying a Starbucks cup in each of her hands, and I was brought to months ago, to the boardroom where I had been leading a meeting.

  I cleared my throat, coming clean about that day and spilling the coffee. “I didn’t like how he was looking at you.”

  “Who?” She frowned.

  I kept my gaze out the windshield, sighing loudly. “Bill Townsend. He’d spilled the coffee on purpose, and I know you wanted to help, but I didn’t like how he was looking at you. He wanted to see you bend and clean up the mess, and the shirt you were wearing … it was a little see-through.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” Her face lost its color.

  I reached for her hand, meaning my next words more than I’d ever meant anything before. “I’m sorry. I know I was harsh that day, but I wanted you out of that room, out of his view.” My thumb brushed over the top of her fist. “And I am thankful for you and what you do every day. The reason I ask those things from you is because I’m comfortable around you, Sonia, and I trust you.” I did. There was no one in the office, other than my brothers, whom I trusted more. I was an asshole to them on the daily, but it didn’t make it right. “So, I’m sorry. And, for future requests, you have every right to deny them, and I won’t hold it against you.”

  She was quiet for far too long, and I waited for what seemed like an eternity for her to say something, anything.

  “I forgive you.”

  Those three words had my body relaxing.

  She squeezed my hand back. Then, she retracted her hand from mine and turned toward the road, shifting in her seat. “That was oddly refreshing, getting that all out in the open.” She laughed. “Now, let’s drive. We have a wedding to get to.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “Who’s the bossy one now?” I turned the key in the ignition, revved up the engine, and drove.

  Chapter 11

  Sonia

  The ride to the church was the slowest, most agonizing ride of my life. Sweat formed between my boobs, in my palms, at my temples. Not because of the awkward conversation between Brad and me. No, that was long forgotten, replaced by memories of Jeff and me.

  I did not want to do this. To see him with her, kissing and holding hands and dancing, all throw-up happy, the way we had been once.

  When we stopped at the front of the church, my stomach churned.

  “I can’t breathe.” I inhaled deeply through my nose and exhaled a ragged breath.

  I gripped the dashboard of Brad’s Porsche, closed my eyes, and dropped my chin to my chest. All I could see was darkness behind my eyelids as I clenched them shut. All I could smell was the leather new-car scent of Brad’s automobile, and all I could feel was my manicured fingernails digging into the tender part of my palms. Sweat formed behind my neck even though the air was blasting on high and my hair was up in an array of curls pinned to the top of my head. The bodice of my dress squeezed my rib cage, limiting my airflow.

  “I can’t breathe,” I repeated, concentrating on getting air to fill up my lungs.

  “You’re fine. You’re exaggerating. You did fine during the rehearsal.” His voice was calm and steady, opposite to my erratically beating heart.

  I shook my head. This had nothing to do with the rehearsal and everything to do with Jeff. It had been months, and I knew, one look into my face, he’d know I wasn’t over him. The humiliation would kill me, like a bullet.

  Breathe. Why is it so hard to breathe?

  “You’re fine. You’ll do fine,” he reiterated. His hand went to the back of my neck, rubbing and massaging.

  “I want
to go home.” The fear of seeing Jeff suddenly choked me, tears nearly warming the backs of my eyes. All the pent-up emotions and anticipation had built up to this one day, our first after-breakup meeting.

  Brad’s warm hand massaged between my shoulder blades, but it did nothing to calm my nerves. “I’ve never seen stage fright like this before. It’s one reading. You’ll do amazing, just like yesterday.”

  My eyes flipped open, and I stared at him, dumbfounded. He was clueless.

  “This is not about a stupid reading.” I clutched my stomach, trying to hold myself together, almost to the point of hyperventilating. “This is about seeing Jeff when I haven’t seen him in forever. Seeing him happy and in love with my replacement, Barbie two-point-oh, when this …” I motioned between us. “… is all pretend.”

  Brad’s hold dropped from my shoulder to my hand. “It’s not going to be that bad. That’s why I’m here, right?” His fingers intertwined with mine, and he gave it a squeeze.

  I peered up at him, wishing and hoping that his words were true, and for a tiny moment, his touch relaxed me.

  “How do you know?” My words came out as a breathless whisper.

  “Because I do. Trust me?” There was sincerity in his tone, one that startled me for a second. The tone he used on his nieces to tell them that everything was going to be okay.

  “Do I have a choice?” Because, do or die, I had to trust him at this point. I was banking that being seen with him would lessen the humiliation, maybe even lessen the hurt.

  “That’s true.” Then, his sparkling smile made an appearance. “Let’s go, my new fake girlfriend. Let’s see if we can rile up the ex.”

  He stepped out of the car and opened my door. After he extended his hand, I placed my hand in his, and he hooked it through his arm, pulling me closer. With the most tender of kisses, he pecked my forehead.

  I peered up at him, and a vulnerability I rarely ever showed pushed through. “Tell me it’s going to be okay.” I gathered the sides of my dress, flattened it, and then gathered it again, squeezing the fabric between my fingertips.