Page 88 of Playboy Boss

“Piss off!” Konrad chuckled, as did Dallas. “And thank you.”

“How you holding up?”

“How do I look like I’m holding up?” Konrad knew he’d seen better days. He was actually wearing a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans today, much more casual than normal. A suit had felt too constricting, too daunting to wear.

Dallas looked Konrad over. “Well, you’ve looked prettier.”

Konrad laughed. “I feel like absolute ass.”

“Yeah … you look like it too. Sorry to break it to you.”

Konrad laughed again, pitifully. He was silent, getting his thoughts together. “Thanks for taking my call last night, mate. I thought I was going mad. I’ve never felt like that before. I can’t say I like it much.” He’d seen other men grovel. Heard of it. Never had done it himself. But, the thing was, he’d do it again for the right reason. The right person.

“Ah, no problem, Kon. That’s what bros are for.”

“Indeed.”

Dallas had had his head on straight last night. At least one of them had. Konrad had been fit to be tied, as Dallas would say.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

Konrad sighed, leaning back in his chair. There was only one thing to do. “Get her back. I don’t know how, but I have to. It’s the only thing I know for sure.”

“I kinda feel like it’s my fault, really. I mean, I was the one who made you write that list.” Dallas creased his forehead.

Konrad shook his head. “It’s not about the list. It’s the fact that I had a list to write in the first place.”

“Are you gonna tell the guys? About Scottie?”

“Not until she’s mine again.”

Dallas breathed in, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Did she come in today?”

“No. The agency called me and said she’d taken a permanent job somewhere. A new temp is starting on Monday.”

Dallas laughed. “Ah, hell, you better not get any ideas with this one.”

Konrad stared Dallas square in the eyes. “I’ll get Scottie back. And when I do, I’ll never let her go.”

****

Konrad made himself get dressed for his low-key birthday drink with the guys. He’d replaced the t-shirt with a chambray button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a proper pair of jeans. Not ripped. He’d also replaced his sneakers with a pair of Prada loafers. Outside, he was Konrad again. Inside, he was forever changed.

Fabian had told him to arrive at eight thirty, which he had. Actually, he was right on the dot. Not unusual for him. Konrad was usually punctual. The front desk let him up to the penthouse easily, unlocking the private lift for him. He sighed as it took him to the top of the high-rise. I don’t want to be here. He still wanted to be facedown on his bed.

He rang the doorbell, listening for footsteps. None came. He frowned, knocking hard instead. Perhaps the doorbell wasn’t working. Three knocks later, he heard heavy steps against the floor. The door opened, nothing but darkness inside. A rush of dread came over him. He knew what this was.

And out of the darkness came a unanimous cry. “Surprise!” The lights came on, and nearly every person he knew in Houston beamed at him, holding drinks in the air.

Fuck. It was a surprise birthday party.

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