Page 93 of Forbidden Boss (Manhattan Billionaires)

I snorted and dismissed the thought. She didn’t want me. She probably saw the precarious position she was in, and she wanted to secure her spot by my side. Get all the perks and no risks. She’d have another job with one of my biggest clients, so she’d have me over a barrel personallyandprofessionally.

Very neatly done. Clever woman.

I should have known.

THIRTY-EIGHT

NIKKI

I must have beena special kind of stupid. I really thought I could walk in there, tell Rome Blakely—Rome freaking Blakely—that I wanted a relationship with him, and then we’d skip off into the sunset together.

The tears didn’t hit until I was nearly home. Actually, I didn’t start crying until I walked in and saw my teal couch in my unfamiliar apartment, with all my boxes of junk yet to be unpacked.

This wasn’t home. It never would be home, because I couldn’t afford to stay here unless I found a steady job with a decent paycheck. Even then, did I really want to stay somewhere that Rome’s people procured for me? Did I want that constant reminder?

I stood with my back to the door, and the whole crushing wave of emotion bore down on me. I was broken under the weight of it, pulled out into the open ocean by its undertow. Sliding along the door, I fell until my butt hit the ground, and realized tears were soaking my cheeks and dripping down onto my dress.

What a ridiculous idea—to think I couldactuallyget everything I wanted! To think I could ask for a man to choose me and be delusional enough to believe he would.

I’d never been good enough to be chosen. Not for a promotion, not for a friendship, not for a shopping spree, and certainly not for a loving relationship. What was there to love in a placeholder? There was nothing to me except an empty vessel, a vague shape of a woman that people could use when they had nothing better lined up.

And Rome had no qualms in showing me exactly what he thought of me.

Itriedto explain. I tried to tell him that I wanted him—and he didn’t care. He didn’t reject me because of a misunderstanding. He rejected me because I simply wasn’t good enough.

And why would I be? Did I really think this was some kind of Cinderella story? I’d be swept off my feet, and land in the lap of luxury ensconced by the strong arms of a gorgeous, wealthy man?

Things like that didn’t happen to people like me.

At some point, when the light changed and I realized I’d been on the floor for hours, I picked myself up and shuffled to the kitchen. I stared at the sink for a while, then went to the bathroom. A shower made me feel more human, but it barely helped.

I took out my phone and told myself to make a doctor’s appointment. I needed to deal with the other issue—the one growing inside me. But making an appointment meant admitting that it was happening.

I was pregnant, and my baby’s father wanted nothing to do with me.

As if to underscore that point, my phone chimed with an email from the Blakely HR department. I was officially terminated from Blakely, with full severance. I snorted when I saw that, even though I knew I couldn’t turn my nose up at a chunk of money. Not when I was jobless and pregnant and alone.

But Rome was just buying me off, exactly the way he did in that conference room when he first presented me with the companion contract.

Iactuallythought he cared about me. I actually believed all this insatiable sex meant something more.

Like I said—special kind of stupid.

Two and a half months ago, I’d thought my life was on a downward spiral. I had no idea what was coming. This was so much worse. I’d actually had hope that life would get better, only for it to be snatched away.

I turned my phone off, buried myself in my duvet, and slept.

I slept for nearly three full days, shuffling up to use the bathroom and shovel food in my mouth when the grumbling in my stomach became too insistent. I turned my phone back on at some point and saw messages from my group chat with the girls, a few photos from Penny, a text from Eleanor. I answered none of them.

Did these people actually want to speak to me? Unlikely. I wasn’t worth their time. They probably kept me around for pity, or because I filled some specific function in their lives. I made them feel better about their lives by comparison, probably.

My bed became my refuge. It was hard to do anything other than the necessities, and even those sometimes became too difficult. I showered as much as I could, ate whenever I could force a few bites down, and tried not to think of anything. I stared out my bedroom window a lot, at the fat snowflakes that fell down, the orange light from the streetlights, the concrete wall across the street. One morning, a cat jumped on my windowsill on its precarious journey somewhere else.

Christmas came and went. I forced myself to answer whatever messages came through, but I ignored the phone calls from Penny and Layla. My mother didn’t call. Neither did Rome.

New Year’s fireworks alerted me that another week had passed. I rolled onto my back and listened to them booming somewhere over the river, thinking about all the people reveling all over the city.

Was Rome kissing someone new already?

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