Page 39 of Bossalicious Bad Boy

She looks at me with a mix of sympathy and determination. "Clara, only you can decide if you want to give him another chance. But trust is something that needs to be earned. If Alexander genuinely wants to make amends, he'll have to work hard to regain your trust."

I nod, trying to absorb her words as I wipe away the tears streaming down my face. "But what about my career? I worked so hard to get here, and now I just feel like everything's falling apart."

"Listen," Ruby says, leaning forward and placing a hand on my arm. "You're an incredibly talented and strong woman. You've proven that time and time again. Don't let Alexander's actions dictate your future. Your career is worth fighting for, whether that means staying at the company or finding a new path."

Her words resonate within me, offering a small glimmer of hope in the midst of my heartache. As I take a deep breath, allowing the air to fill my lungs, I realize that she's right. My career and my self-worth are not tied to Alexander, and no matter what happens between us, I have the strength to forge my own path.

"Thank you, Ruby," I say softly, my voice still shaky but genuine. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Hey, that's what friends are for," she replies with a smile, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Okay," I agree, taking another deep breath and feeling the tiniest bit lighter. With Ruby by my side, maybe facing the future won't be so daunting after all.

The restaurant's low hum of conversation and clinking glasses fades into the background as Ruby locks her eyes on mine with a fierce determination that's both comforting and empowering.

"Clara, you are more than capable of getting through this," she states firmly. "Alexander is just one man, and he doesn't define your worth or your future."

I stare at her, my hands gripping the sides of my chair, and try to let her words sink in. I watch as Ruby takes a sip of her wine, the red liquid shimmering under the ambient lighting, before setting the glass down with a soft thud.

"Besides," she continues, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "if you ever need someone to put him in his place, you know where to find me."

I can't help but chuckle, the sound bubbling up from deep within, cutting through the tension that's been building inside me all day. The warmth of Ruby's unwavering support surrounds me like a blanket, shielding me from the cold uncertainty gnawing at my heart.

"Thanks, Ruby," I manage to say, wiping away a stray tear with the back of my hand. "Your faith in me means everything."

"Of course," she replies, reaching across the table to give my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Now, let's focus on something positive. Tell me about that project you've been working on, the one you've been so excited about."

As I take a deep breath, feeling the weight on my chest slowly lifting, I begin to recount the details of my latest assignment. My words come easier now, flowing like a river freed from a dam, as I describe my ideas and progress. Ruby listens intently, nodding and asking questions when appropriate, her enthusiasm for my work reigniting my own passion.

Our plates eventually lay empty before us, the remnants of our meal a testament to the comfort we've found in each other's company. As we share one final toast, I can feel the remnants of my earlier distress dissolving, replaced by a newfound sense of hope and determination.

"Thank you for tonight, Ruby," I say, my voice steady and strong, as we walk towards the exit. "You have no idea how much it means to me."

"Anytime, Clara," she replies, looping her arm through mine. "That's what friends are for, after all."

And with that, we step out into the cool night air, our laughter mingling with the sounds of the city as we face the uncertain future together.

18

ALEXANDER

I walk into my office, the room feeling emptier than usual. The absence of Clara's laughter and the light she brings with her every day is palpable. I know she didn't come in today because of the awkward tension between us yesterday — and I know it's my fault.

"Get it together, Alex," I mutter to myself as I sit down at my desk, trying to focus on the mounting pile of paperwork. I can't shake the image of Clara from my mind – her soft smile, the way she tilts her head when she's deep in thought. What is this strange pull towards her that I feel? She's my employee, for God's sake.

I rub my temples, feeling the weight of confusion pressing down on me. I've never had a problem separating work from personal life before, but with Clara, it's different. I'm different. My chest tightens at the thought of her not returning to work, leaving an indelible void in my daily routine.

As I try to refocus on the tasks at hand, I can't help but feel a strange mix of relief and hope. Somehow, knowing that James is there for me makes the weight of my confusion a little more bearable. And with that thought, I dive back into my work, determined to push through the day and figure out how to navigate my feelings for Clara in a way that's both respectful and honest.

The hours pass, and I find myself feeling more at peace than I have in days. Yes, the road ahead will be uncertain, but with the support of my brother and the clarity that comes with self-reflection, I know that I can face whatever lies ahead – head-on.

I fidget in my office chair, tapping my pen against the polished mahogany desk. The sound echoes in the otherwise silent room, only emphasizing my restlessness. I glance at Clara's empty workspace through the glass wall separating our offices, and a pang of guilt washes over me.

Deep down, I know my feelings for Clara are growing stronger each day, but I can't help but fear that pushing her too hard may cause her to slip through my fingers completely.

"Maybe I should give her space... or maybe I should reach out?" I ponder, weighing my options as I waver between wanting to protect her and wanting to pursue her.

The door to my office swings open, and James strides in, his brows furrowed in concern. "What's with you today?" he inquires, perching on the edge of my desk. "You've been pacing your office like a caged tiger."

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