Page 52 of My Forbidden Boss

I hang up before he has a chance to reply, hold the phone and watch the screen go dark. He doesn’t call back. I ignore the part of me that wanted him to. The small part of me where hope resides and then it crumples into a tight little ball that rolls away into oblivion.

My eyelids close and I suck in a shaky breath. I’ve come from nothing, found everything and it’s a trap. Girls like me don’t get everything. I’d just forgotten.

Chapter 19

David

In his living room, Tristan hands me a glass tumbler filled with expensive scotch. The ice tinkles in the amber fluid. I sip as he sits in the armchair on the other side of the coffee table and I enjoy the burn in my throat as he crosses his legs.

While I only look the part, Tristan is top drawer, inside and out. The furniture in his living room is expensive and tasteful. My shoes sink into thick cream carpet and buttery-soft leather from Italy supports my back. His understated condo reeks of class, but I expect that of him. He comes from money, while I’ve fought and forged my way from the dirt. Part of it has always stuck to me no matter how hard I scrub and I’m glad that aspect of myself never worried Tristan.

He might have come from money, but his parents never let it define him. Instead of paying him in cash, they shared their fortune with him by sending him to the best schools, joining national sporting clubs and befriending influential contacts.

College was a level playing field securing people across the country. While Tristan had monetary help to reach it, I got there on grunt and pure hard work. College didn’t care about the road traveled to get there. Their eyes were on high school scores and pure ambition. Like me, Tristan was high on both. College supplied us with lessons and knowledge and we returned the gift with high distinctions. They shared our final marks and made us ambassadors to lure in new students, promising the same results for them. It could be done. As long as those students were hungry enough — and Tristan and I were ravenous in those days.

We still are. We built our reputations and made our own money, but between the day-to-day deals, the hard work, sweat, and sheer determination of climbing to the top, there was always something missing. At least there was for me. I’d never known exactly what that hole was, and now I can describe exactly what was missing. All five foot six, blonde hair, soulful blue eyes and plump pink lips of missing, to be exact.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your company, but it’s Saturday night. I thought you’d be entertaining your lady,” Tristan says, sipping his scotch.

I sip, relishing another burn. I relay our last conversation in my head for the millionth time, coming to the same conclusion. “She wants to end our relationship, but I don’t agree to her terms.”

“Ahh.” Tristan swirls his glass. “Have you informed her of your decision?”

“I plan to press my case on Monday,” I say. Like the best cocaine, I itch for my next fix of roses and innocence, killer legs and shy looks. It’s been a long day and tomorrow stretches out interminably because I haven’t touched her. Kissed her. Fucked her. “If it wasn’t for her sick mother, whom she’s looking after before you ask, she would have forgotten all about those reasons by now.”

“I’m saying this as your friend, but do you think she’s right?” Tristan says.

I list the reasons she threw at me, launched from her tongue, missile-hard. Steph. Samantha. The baby. Her age. All good arguments. Like the best lawyer, I’ll shoot them down in flames because although she might think they’re good enough to keep us apart, I’ve paid off the judges and jury. There’s no case. No crime. Only facts. She’s mine and that’s all there is to it.

“No.” I toss the rest of the scotch back and reach for the decanter.

“Okay. I’ll stand by your decision, but I would ask you to take the time to enjoy that scotch and not drink it like water. There were only one hundred bottles made, and it packs a punch,” Tristan says.

I reach into my inside jacket pocket and throw the paternity confirmation on the table before filling the tumbler to half. I’ll buy Tristan a case if he wants another. “Samantha gave me that yesterday. Came into Ricardo’s and dropped it in front of Adeline.”

Tristan picks up the paper, reads it and purses his lips. “Can you trust it?”

“I told her to use my doctor. I had new bloodwork done. It was a stipulation for the paternity test. I don’t see how I can’t trust it,” I say.

“You’re not leaving it there,” Tristan says. He folds it and gives it back to me. He knows me well.

“I’ll give it to Sophie to finish the child agreement I’ve gotten her to put together. It’ll be water tight. No leaks, no matter how far Samantha contests it. I’ll care for my child,” I say.

“And Samantha,” Tristan says.

I shrug a shoulder. “Of course. She’ll be the mother of my second child. I’ll not see her go without. She’ll have everything she needs.”

“Everything except you,” Tristan says, refilling his glass. Appears he’s got the taste and that suits me fine. I need a little oblivion.

“She shouldn’t have done that in front of Adeline,” I say. I would have explained everything to Adeline. I would have told her Samantha’s in my past. She satisfied an itch because I was lonely, but she’s nothing more than that. She’ll never be anything more.

Adeline would be in my arms— in my bed — now if Samantha had chosen a better time. I would have seen Samantha at any other time, on any other day, but that was done on purpose.

She knew exactly what she was doing. I’m not blind to her.

I know who she is and what she wants. She’ll never have me. There will come a day when she’ll realize the mistake she’s made, but I won’t have her destroying my life, or the life of an innocent child, before that time.

“What’s different about Adeline?” Tristan asks.

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