Page 3 of Bidding War

Love should be easy and fun, right? Not this thing that binds you to a dangerous family. Or is that maligning the rest of his family? I don’t know. What I do know is the man who kidnapped me, Andre Moeller, said he did so because Anderson’s father, Elliot, owed him a substantial amount of money. Whatever that means to men like them.

So, I leave his texts unread for a while on my way back to the office. I have donuts to deliver. It doesn’t help that my phone dings two more times. I know it’s him. But I’m not looking. Not right now. I don’t need to cater to his wants and needs when I’m the one who was taken.

But I miss him like I miss springtime.

No, no, no. Too complicated. Find a boring accountant or something.

I don’t want a boring accountant, though. I want Anderson sans his father’s shit. The problem is, when Anderson takes over his family’s business, I don’t know what happens next. Will he assume the mantle of his father’s work and all the seedy parts that go along with that? Or will he strike out and make the business his own, leaving the illegal stuff behind? I don’t know, and I can’t ask.

He hates what his father is doing. But I’m not sure how deep it goes, and if it’s as deep as I suspect, I don’t think Anderson will be able to get out of it when the time comes.

Ugh. It’s too complicated. All of it. I should just forget about him. Forget about the auction money. Move on and figure out another way to escape my corporate attorney drudgery. I’ll be happier for it, or at least, I’ll be safer for it.

But I don’t want to move on. I still want Anderson West.

I groan internally as my office building looms. It’s nice enough and looks like the dozens of other office buildings in downtown Boston. The elevators always work smoothly. It’s clean and modern on my floor. Nice enough to impress our high-end clientele.

And so grating that it makes my teeth hurt.

Doesn’t matter, though, because it starts raining again, so I dash into the lobby with the bag of donuts tucked beneath my jacket. Between helping the rich get richer and dealing with people like Madi Montague, I hate it. Madi is a senior staff member, so she thinks of herself as in charge of everyone else. Our boss, Wallace, likes that she keeps him informed of the goings-on in the office, so he lets her get away with too much. It’s so mundane that I want to run screaming from the building instead of taking the elevator up.

But I hit the button and zip up to my floor. When the metal doors close, I see myself in the reflection. Holy crap, I look terrible. Red-cheeked and sweaty from the run and soaked from the rain. Well, at least I look like the mess I really am now. No hiding it when I look like this. I think I pounded the pavement a bit harder than I meant to, but that’s due to avoiding Anderson’s texts, I’m sure of it.

I can clean up in the bathroom, wolf my donut down, and get to work. Can’t tell if my head is any clearer or if I’m just going to have to power through, but either way, I can do this. If I can survive a kidnapping, I can survive feeling a little grungy at work for half a day.

As soon as the doors open, though, my stomach drops and I nearly lose the donuts. I force a professional smile on. “Wallace. Haven’t seen you all day.”

“I’ve been busy,” he says with no small amount of irritation. “I’d like you to follow me to my office. Now.”

Oh hell. What is going on? Wallace is never like this. He’s older than me by twenty years or so and a quirky uncle type. He's not that angry school principal type I’m seeing in him today. “Uh, sure. Just let me get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you there.”

“That won’t be necessary. Come along, June.”

Fuck. Did a client complain about me? Is the IRS getting crabby? I’ve been at the firm for a few years now, but the work I’ve done has been good and legal. Maybe hit a couple of legal gray areas, but that’s always been encouraged if it saves our clients more money, and none of it has been actually illegal. Just stuff that makes the IRS huff at us.

Are they done huffing? Have they gotten serious?

I try to lighten the mood as I follow him between the rows of desks. I toss Garrett the bag of donuts and don’t say a word to him. When he sees who I’m walking with and how bad I look, he winces. Does he know what’s going on? Does everyone know what’s going on, and I’m the last to find out? Whatever the case, I hope Madi is not in Wallace’s office. I can handle getting yelled at, but not in front of her.

Never in front of her.

Wallace, being a boss, has a real office. A nice corner number that I had my eye on the first year I was here. Back then, I figured I’d be with the firm for my full thirty years, so I should keep an eye out for which office I wanted as I progressed in my field. Like most graduates, I was full of hope for the future and love for the law.

Now, my future is cloudy, and the law can go to hell.

As Wallace walks around his desk to his chair, he says, “Take a seat, June. We need to talk.”

I lightly joke, “Almost sounds like you’re breaking up with me, Wallace.”

He gives a thin smile, and whatever it is, I know I am fucked.

3

ANDERSON

“Not at all, Rena. We’ve been with you every step of the way, and we’re not about to turn our backs now,” I tell her as reassuringly as possible. Rena Banks is one of our top stars. A Disney child actor-turned-singer and now an incredibly popular influencer, Rena worries over everything. It’s a shame she doesn’t worry before she does stupid shit. “I’m no agent?—"

“No, Anderson,” she says, suddenly reaching for my hand. “You’re better. My agent thinks this will all blow over. You’re the only one who said to do an apology video.”

---