Crossing Hathaway (8 page)

Silence. Hiccupping sobs.

When I realized why, a thorny ball of dread thudded to the bottom of my empty stomach. “He won’t let you see me unless I come to the house, will he?”

“He’s a stubborn man, sweetheart. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he won’t listen.”

I wiped away my tears. “So he’s using you to blackmail me, is that it? I can’t see my own mom without enduring him?”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately.”

“This has been going on my entire life, Mom. You have to know that.”

“Will you at least think about it, coming to see me some night?”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it. ’Bye, Mom.”

“I love you, sweetheart. He does too, even if he can’t say it.”

I ended the call and pounded my palm on the desk. No, he didn’t love me and he never would.
Fucking bastard!
How dare he put Mom through this?

“You okay?” Jeremy’s voice came in a whisper behind me.

I scrubbed tears from my face, willed myself into something resembling composed, and nodded. “Yeah.” Head held high, I stood and picked up my toolkit. “What’s on the work list for this afternoon?”

Tuesday morning I arrived at work early in case Mr. Hathaway intended to call me up to his office. Although apprehension coiled around my bones at seeing him again, nervous butterflies had a party in my abdomen about it too. Tossing away the ridiculous notion that I was attracted to the arrogant wonder, I hung up my coat and fired up my laptop.

“Is that you, Eva?” Cameron shouted from his office.

I had a moment of brain freeze before I stood and walked to his door. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow?” My heart fell, but I held my reaction inside. It was stupid, anyway, wanting to see Mr. Hathaway again.

Cam grinned, one full of contented joy. “I thought I’d let you off the hook early.”

I hesitated a moment before withdrawing Mr. Hathaway’s iPhone from my pocket and setting it on Cam’s desk. “That was nice of you, but I was doing okay. I’ll tell you everything once you’re settled in and caught up. How’s the baby?”

“An eating, crying, poop factory, but wonderful.” Cam beamed and flashed a picture of the little guy in a frame on his desk. “Oh, before I forget.” He handed me a red iPhone. “Mr. Hathaway said you left this in his office yesterday.”

I turned the phone over in my hand. “This isn’t mine.” After I said it, I wondered if I should have. Did Mr. Hathaway mean for me to have it? My heart did a little skip-to-my-Lou as I considered the implications of that. No, even if he did want me to keep working for him, it was wrong. I needed to go back to my job and forget I’d ever met him. “No worries. I’ll return it to him right now.”

I approached Mr. Hathaway’s office and caught Brent unloading a Grindhouse bag at his desk. “Hey, Brent.”

He peered at me through a fringe of blond hair. His face lit up with a grin, and he raced toward me in his white linen pants and red silk shirt. I braced myself when he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and squeezed. “Girl, I don’t care what you’re doing in there with Mr. H., but please, for the love of God, don’t stop.”

My forehead wrinkled. I pushed him away, not the touchy feely sort at the best of times. “I’m not doing anything with Mr. Hathaway other than working.”

Brent dismissed me with a flick of his fingers. “Oh, hush. I’m not going to tell anybody.”

I thrust my palm upward to punctuate my annoyance. “Are you listening to me? There’s nothing to tell.” I scowled, considering why he’d assumed my presence had some nefarious angle. “Why do you think I’m doing anything with him?”

“Get this.” He jumped, clapped his hands, and grinned. “He called me by name this morning.”

I rubbed my forehead, debating whether or not to ask before giving in to curiosity. “What does he normally call you?”

“Well, let’s see.” He marked each one with a count of his fingers. “There’s idiot, moron, and my personal favorite, freak of nature.”

Chuckling, I rolled my eyes and opened the door to Mr. Hathaway’s office. “I assure you his change in behavior has nothing to do with me. I’m just here to return this phone to him.”

Brent said something, but the door shut before I caught it.

My heart throbbed against my ribs as I walked into Mr. Hathaway’s office, gaping at the brightness of the room. All of the blinds had been drawn to allow a fresh splash of sunlight across the expanse. For the first time, I could see how many doors lined the upper level—there were five—the colorful landscapes decorating the beige walls and a small sitting area complete with black leather sofas and matching chairs, a table full of magazines and a giant fern. Even the air smelled of fresh growing things, a scent swirled around by the cool touch of air conditioning. It didn’t look like the same space. The fires of hell, apparently, had gone out. The door to the boardroom on the second level stood open. I walked up the stairs, my pulse pushing harder with each step. Why was I so nervous? I’d just give him the phone, say thanks and good-bye. I stopped, held a hand to my chest to quell the sudden ache there.

This is stupid.
The phone was probably just a misunderstanding.

I shook off my melancholy and continued up to the boardroom.

Mr. Hathaway was bent over the table with his back to me. My gaze zeroed in on the way his gray dress pants showcased the muscular curve of his backside, until I realized what I did and put my hand over my eyes. I didn’t go around staring at men’s asses, no matter how tight and cute they happened to be.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hathaway.” I strode up to him, averting my eyes. “I came to return this phone you gave Cameron. It’s not mine.”

He turned and half sat half leaned on the table, grinning.

When I took a more thorough look at his face, my eyes flew wide, and I drew in a quick breath. “You’re not Mr. Hathaway.”

“Actually I am, just not the one you’re looking for, I’ll bet.” Beaming, he strode to me and offered his hand. “Pity.”

I shook it. My skin prickled, and not in a good way. “You look so much like him it’s almost scary.” The only difference was his skin tone. He had a deep bronze tan where Mr. Hathaway had a face that appeared untouched by the sun, pale and unblemished, though nonetheless captivating.

“Richard Hathaway. I’m Benjamin’s twin brother.” Moaning, he leaned down and pressed his lips to my knuckles while his laughing green eyes rolled up to stare at me.

I yanked my hand back and retreated, squicked out by a bad case of the heebie-jeebies. “Nice to meet you, Richard. Is your brother here?” I returned the phone to my pocket and rubbed my arms.

“I’ve made you blush.” He came closer, a dark glint in his eyes I didn’t like one little bit. “What’s your name, kitten?”

My little voice screamed warnings at me, told me to run like hell out of there. Adrenaline flooded my body, boiling and scalding as it came. I backed up until I bumped into the wall with him following each step. A squeak burst from my lips when his fingers caressed my flaming cheek.

Another moan escaped from deep in his chest. “You’re sweet enough to taste.”

When he leaned in to kiss me, I ducked under his arm. “Don’t touch me.”

He posed against the wall, feet crossed at the ankle, hands in his pockets, shoving his suit jacket aside to accommodate them. “What’s the matter, kitten? Either you’re a prude, or you’re fucking my brother.” He laughed and shook his head, clearly amused by his own words. “No, scratch that last one. Benjamin wouldn’t know what to do with you if you fell on his dick, so you must be a prude.”

“Screw you.” I jammed a finger at him. “My boss wouldn’t appreciate you talking about him like that. I don’t care who the fuck you are, buddy.”

What was wrong with his family? If someone had told me I’d meet a bigger ass than Mr. Hathaway before I met his brother, I’d have told them they were nuts.

Richard’s mouth formed a little
O
before it spread into a wicked grin. “A feisty one. Maybe I was wrong about you, defending him with such passion. Are you fucking him?”

The lights dimmed, stealing away my retort.

“What are you doing here, Richard?” Mr. Hathaway blew into the office like an angry wind, stopping in the shadow beyond the pot lights in the ceiling. His voice fell into a low growl. “I told you never to come here unannounced.”

Richard swaggered away from the wall, his gaze sliding over me in a way that made me want to peel off my skin. “Oh, Benjamin, you’ve always been such a drama queen.”

“I told you never to call me that. What are you doing here now? The board isn’t meeting until this afternoon.”

Richard shrugged and circled me like a predator. “I wanted to see how my brother was doing, to see if you’re still the boring, awkward workaholic you’ve always been.”

I jumped when Richard spoke against my ear. “Our Ben here doesn’t know the meaning of spontaneity. If you check his bathroom, I’m certain you’ll find a schedule posted on the wall so he remembers when to take a shit. He certainly doesn’t know how to pleasure a strong woman like you, not the way I can.” His finger slid inside the collar of my shirt.

I elbowed him and rubbed my throat to get rid of the crawling sensation lingering from his touch. Fury bubbled up my throat. “God, are you always an ass or just on Tuesdays?”

Richard sniggered and jutted his chin toward Ben. “You have your pussy fighting your battles now, brother?”

Ben shifted closer to me, a subtle movement, but I caught it all the same. His jaw flexed. “Has he harmed you, Evangeline?” My respect for him grew a little. If Richard had been my brother and he said that to me, I’d probably have decked him. His self-control was downright saintly.

I nodded. “I’m fine. He’s just being a prick.”

“Get out, Richard. Stay away from me and my staff.”

Richard let out a barking chuckle. He came around to face me, offering a business card pinched between two fingers. “Call me if you want to relieve your boredom … Evangeline.” My name stretched across his lips like a lover’s caress.

I wrapped my arms around myself and edged closer to Ben.

He snatched the card from his brother’s hand and stood between us. “She doesn’t date, and even if she did, she has more sense than to put herself at the mercy of someone like you. Now get out.”

Wearing a smirk more full of menace than humor, Richard strode to the door and left. A few moments later, the outer door slammed downstairs.

Mr. Hathaway leaned on the table and expelled a giant breath. His whole body shook, his teeth clenched and bared, eyes closed. At first, I took it for rage, but as I looked closer, at his wilting posture, at his presence that seemed to shrink, I recognized fear rooted so deep it clung to him like a shadow.

“Do you act like a high and mighty king because you think you’re that much better than everyone else? Or do you hide in the darkness, locked away in your office because you’re worried someone will eventually figure out there’s a real man who feels and bleeds beneath the bully?”

“Get out.”

The sharpness of the words stung, heating my cheeks with shame. “I’ve just been trying to figure you out for days. Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He straightened and put a hand over his eyes, speaking through a tense jaw. “Leave.”

I hesitated for a moment, clutching my stomach to quiet the sickness swirling there, and walked out.

A crash came from the boardroom before I’d made it halfway down the stairs, making me stumble down a few steps. Mr. Hathaway cried out. A slew of profanity spilled into the silence. Impressive. The man knew how to curse.

I ran back up, two steps at a time, and sprinted into the room, afraid of what I might find. First-aid training didn’t do a whole lot to beef up the ole nerve when running into a potential crisis.

Panting, Mr. Hathaway sat on the floor, cradling his hand to his chest.

My shoulders relaxed a bit. He didn’t appear to be near imminent death. “What happened?” I knelt beside him.

A little more color leeched out of his face. “I thought I told you to leave,” he said through a groan.

“Yeah, well, you should know by now I don’t always jump when you tell me to. Now shut up and let me see your hand.”

“I cut myself.” Paling another shade, he swayed. I caught him and helped him lean against the table leg.

“How bad, Mr. Hathaway? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“I told you to call me Ben,” he ground out. “Do I need to write it out for that mind of yours to retain it?”

I laughed as the rest of the remaining tension eased out of my shoulders. “If you’re still acting like an ass, then you mustn’t be that bad. Now stop being a baby and let me see.” I pulled on his arm, but he held it firm.

Averting his gaze, he spoke in a whisper. “I don’t do well with blood.”

The way he cowered against the table reminded me of a little boy. I brushed his hair off his forehead, momentarily startled by the silkiness of it. He relaxed under my touch, leaned into my hand, and sighed.

“Do you have a first-aid kit here?” I asked.

He nodded, a green tinge creeping into his fair complexion. “Bathroom, under the sink.”

“When I come back, you’re going to let me look at your hand.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, there’ll be no seeing, only doing. You’re the hurt one and I’m the first-aid pro so I’m the boss here, got it?”

As I exited, I could have sworn I heard him chuckling. Nah. I went to the bathroom, relieved I didn’t find a schedule of his bowl movements there, and returned to the boardroom with a briefcase-sized first-aid kit. The man did nothing halfway, that was a certainty. Jeez, what did he have in there, a portable hospital? It weighed a ton.

Ben’s head rested on his knees, his injured hand pinned between his legs and his chest.

“Ben?”

A groan spilled from his lips, muffled by his face-plant on his legs. “I’ll be fine.”

I summoned the voice I didn’t use often, a tender, soft one. For whatever reason, even after everything he’d done to me, I had an undeniable urge to help him. “I promise I’ll be gentle. Just close your eyes and I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”