Page 14 of Bad Boy Billionaire and the Single Mom

Ethan’s expression slowly softens, a flicker of hope shining in his eyes. For a moment, I expect him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles at me and I’m lucky enough to get a thumbs up. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I nod.

“That’s great, buddy. Let’s get ready and have some fun.”

As we prepare to head out, I can’t help but feel a renewed sense of determination. I need to be present for my son, supporting him through his challenges and uncertainties. I can’t let my confusing feelings for Lily get in the way. I’m just going to have to learn how to balance my new life here with Olivia and Lily and most importantly, Emma.

Chapter 9

Lily

AsIenterthemanager’s office, my footsteps are heavy with anticipation and curiosity. I’m a little confused. One of the girls told me Blake wanted to speak to me in private. Before I know it, I’m getting flashbacks of all the times that I’ve been fired. I pray that I’m misunderstanding and that I’m not about to be let go. I need this job and I wrack my brain thinking of all the things that I’ve done in the last week, wondering if any of them could have led to a dismissal. I’ve worked hard, and I’ll be devastated if Blake feels like I’m not working out in the position.

“Hi, Lily,” Blake greets me with a polite smile. “Can you close the door please and take a seat?”

The formality in his voice sets me on edge. I do as he asks, and I feel like I’m trapped with him in the office, creating an atmosphere of privacy that only adds to my growing unease. I take a seat opposite him.

“Hi,” I reply. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” he responds. “Just something small. The thing is, Lily,” he says, his tone measured, “I’ve noticed that you’ve been wearing the same shoes consistently. And, well, it doesn’t quite align with the image we want to project for the store. I think you need to make a little more effort in how you look.”

His words hit me like a cold shower, igniting a fire of annoyance within me. How can he be so concerned about my shoes when there are far more important matters to discuss? He’s been showing me all the issues he’s had with the staff here and I’ve seen the incorrect stock counts and ‘misplaced’ jewelry. He has a thief on his staff and he’s worried about my shoes?

“My shoes?” I ask, unable to hide the bitterness in my tone.

The mounting frustrations and unresolved tensions between us rise to the surface, fueling my irritation. I can’t help but feel exasperated by his focus on such trivial matters. Thoughts of the articles I read online surface, shedding light on his past behavior and mistreatment of women. The hypocrisy of it all intensifies my frustration, and I struggle to maintain my composure.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I try to respond calmly, “Blake, I understand the importance of appearance, but shouldn’t we be addressing more pressing issues?” I can’t hide the slight edge in my voice, a reflection of my growing annoyance.

He raises an eyebrow as if taken aback by my response.

“Lily, I’m just saying that it will be beneficial if you vary your shoe selection. It’s all about presenting the right image to our customers.”

My annoyance reaches its peak. The weight of my past experiences, coupled with the frustration of being judged for something so trivial, threatens to overwhelm me. All I can hear is my ex telling me how my clothes look awful on me. How terrible I look. How I’ll never be pretty enough. Never good enough.

“Oh, like how you presented yourself to all those women?” I snap. The words escape my lips before I can even process them, and I instantly regret the sharpness of my tone. But the damage is done. It’s out. There’s no taking it back and the words that hang in the air between us.

Blake looks at me confused. “What are you talking about?” he asks. I’m not about to let myself be manipulated by him.

“You’ve been flirting with me all week and then you bring me in here and tell me I don’t look good enough. What kind of sick mind games are you playing?” I scoff. “I looked you up. I know about all your affairs. It’s no wonder your wife left you if this is how you treated her.”

To my surprise, Blake doesn’t snap back. Instead, he remains composed for a moment, his face a mask of controlled indifference. I expected him to retaliate, to lash out with equal force. But he doesn’t.

“You know, Lily, the only reason I called you in here is because the other women are laughing at you. I tried to spare you that. I overheard them this morning. I was going to offer to buy you shoes like I did with your clothes when I gave you your contract.”

His response catches me off guard, cutting through my anger like a knife. My heart hammers in my chest. What am I doing? I’m arguing with Blake. My boss. My best friend’s brother. The guy whose been nice enough to give me this job and to taxi me around everywhere. Now I’ve thrown his past mistakes in his face all because he wants to help me buy another pair of shoes. It’s petty and I know I need to apologize. I was only just afraid he was going to fire me and now I realize that it’s a real possibility with how I’ve just spoken to him. I should have just nodded and thanked him. Olivia would have ordered me some fancy shoes and I could carry on with this job which I am starting to enjoy. I would have carried on spending time with Blake. I could have seen what happens between us. Now I’ve ruined it.

“But you’ve already jumped to conclusions and you’re insinuating I’m a bad husband,” Blake continues, his voice breaking with a hint of vulnerability, “and now you’ve dragged my wife into this.”

My wife, he said. Not his ex-wife. I feel like I’m missing something. Everything he’s saying to me is true. I don’t know why I snapped like that. I don’t think he’s a bad husband and I shouldn’t have mentioned his wife at all. I can get so defensive and lash out when I’m scared.

“Blake,” I say uselessly.

The weight of my actions crashes down on me, and I feel the color drain from my face. The shock of my careless words reverberates through every fiber of my being. Why did I say that? What have I done?

Blake’s stony demeanor cracks, and the facade he carefully maintains crumbles right before my eyes. The tears well up in his eyes, glistening with unspoken pain and betrayal. The sight shocks me to my core, and I feel a heavy lump forming in my throat. This was not the reaction I expected, and the gravity of my words becomes painfully clear. I didn’t want this. I was just angry. I didn’t mean it.

“Oh no,” I curse under my breath, the realization of the damage I’ve caused hitting me like a ton of bricks. I desperately want to turn back time, to retract the hurtful words that have wounded him so deeply. The room feels suffocating, the air heavy with my regret. I feel helpless to stop him from crying. I want to reach out, to offer some form of comfort, but my hands feel frozen, useless in the face of the hurt I’ve inflicted.

As Blake’s tears fall, my horror deepens. The sight of the usually composed and mysterious Blake, unraveling before me shatters any preconceived notions I had about him. The strength I once attributed to him feels fragile and delicate, and I am left grappling with the knowledge that my words have pushed him to his breaking point.

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