Sleeping With My Boss: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (A Dirty Office Romance) (47 page)

Chapter
Forty-Nine

Austin

I
woke up and reached across the bed searching for Emily's warm body, but her
side was empty and cold. I lay in bed recalling all the details of the night
before and feeling optimistic about our chances for having something real.
There was something special about her and I knew that I wanted her in my life.

"Em?" I called, wondering if she
had hopped in the shower or maybe gone downstairs to make coffee. I realized
that there were a lot of things I didn't know about her. Was she was a night
owl or a morning person? Does she take anything in her morning coffee? Does she
even drink coffee? I called out again, "Emily? Are you up here?"

I got no response, so I got up and pulled
on a pair of shorts and padded downstairs to see if Emily was on the deck
drinking coffee or having breakfast. I knew the chef came in early, so maybe
she'd asked him for breakfast on the deck.

"Emily?" I called into the
living room, but got no response. I found her note when I walked into the kitchen
to see if breakfast was cooking.

Austin-
I have to go home. Tommy called, there's an emergency. I have to go. I'm sorry.
Thank you for the perfect day. It really was. -E.

I flipped the note over looking for more,
but that was all she'd written. What happened? I wanted to call her and find
out, but she hadn't left her number and I didn't think it was appropriate to
pull up her personnel file and get her number that way.

What had I done wrong? For a moment, I
worried that the sex wasn’t good enough, but when I replayed the evening in my
mind, I knew that it was better than good enough. We’d come together in a way
that I’d never felt with any other woman I’d ever been with and I knew that
she’d felt the same way. The way she’d curled up with me told me that she had
felt it, too. Then, what had happened? Why had she left so suddenly?

I made some coffee and walked out to the
deck with a cup. The yacht was gone, so she must have gotten the captain to
take her back to Sydney. When had she left? And more importantly, why hadn't
she woke me up?

Maybe she was regretting the whole thing
and now was headed back to her drunk of a husband, but why? Why would she
choose that loser over me? What in the hell had happened overnight and how had
I totally missed it?

I walked back into the house and found my
phone on the coffee table. I sat down on the couch and dialed my mother. I
hadn't talked to her in what felt like weeks, and I knew she'd probably be
around the house right now.

"Austin, honey! How are you?" my
mother yelled into the phone.

"Mom, I can hear you just fine. You
don't need to yell," I laughed. No matter how many times I told her that
the sound on an iPhone was just as good as on a landline, she still yelled at
the top of her lungs like she was riding in a car with the top down. For all I
knew, she was.

"I know, but I hate these
things," she said in something resembling a little more of an indoor
voice. "What's going on honey?"

"Not much, I solved the Australian
construction problem yesterday," I said.

"Oh good, that bastard Daniel is
behind it, I just know it," she muttered. It always amused me how when she
started talking about Daniel her voice dropped several levels and she ended up
muttering under her breath.

"It's all good," I said.
"Whatever he's been doing has been stopped for now."

"He's a snake, Austin," my
mother said. "Be very, very careful of him."

"I know, Mom!" I said as I felt
the irritation rising. I knew she meant well, but sometimes I wished she'd let
the old feuds go and give me a chance to form my own opinions. I had been
planning to ask her advice about Emily, but I realized as we talked that I
didn't think I wanted her in the middle of this just yet. "What's going on
with you?"

"Oh you know, the usual," she
said cheerfully. "I'm going to baseball games and doing a lot of volunteer
work at the center. And then I go play blackjack with the girls every week. I
won last week!"

"That's great, Mom!" I laughed.
"How much did you win?"

"I won a basket of fabric samples and
two coffeecakes," she crowed with pride. It was an unusual gambling method
of playing for crafts and cooking, but it seemed to work for them.

"Awesome," I couldn't stop
laughing at the image of my mother throwing down her cards and claiming a
coffeecake. "Mom, I have to get going, I just wanted to check in and see
how you're doing. I'll be back in New York in a few days, and we can do lunch
or dinner then, okay?"

"Okay, sweetie," she said.
"Travel safely and let me know when you're back! To the moon and
back!"

"To the moon and back, Mom," I
said smiling as I disconnected from the call. I hadn't gotten any answers, but
I felt better for having talked with my mother.

Chapter
Fifty

Emily

When
I got back to the hotel, I called Trish and had her help get me on a flight
back to the States. It wasn't easy to find a replacement for me on the return
trip, but we managed to do it and I packed up my things and rushed to airport.
The next flight took off in two hours and I still had time to make it. I
thanked Trish, told her I'd fill her in later, and made a mad dash for the
plane.

It took me almost a full day to get back
to Las Vegas, but once there, I drove home thinking about all the things I was
going to say to Tommy when I got there. I thought of the mean things I could
say, then quickly discarded them and tried to find middle ground. I wanted out
of the marriage, but I didn't want to hurt him. It wasn't going to matter how I
said it, Tommy was going to be hurt. My stomach churned as I pulled up to the
house and parked my car in the driveway.

My jaw dropped as I looked at the house.
The front yard was full of my clothing, my photos, and pretty much my entire
life. Tommy had gone through the house in a fit of rage and purged it of all
things belonging to me, and now they sat in the front yard. Who knew how long
they'd been there or what had been stolen when he'd dumped everything out in
the yard.

I stormed into the house yelling,
"Tommy Warner! What in the hell did you do?"

"What's wrong?" he asked from a
chair in the corner of the living room. "You mad or something?"

"Tommy, what have you done?" I
cried.

"I'm sick and tired of you always
getting everything you want and leaving me behind," he slurred.

"You're drunk," I said in a flat
tone.

"Damn right, I'm drunk," he said
as he struggled to push himself up from the chair. "I've been sitting here
thinking about all the plans we made and how none of them have happened. Why is
that, Emily? Why is it that after you got the new job, we never did anything I
wanted to do anymore? Why are you always flying off to here and there and
leaving me here to take care of everything?"

"Because I'm working, Tommy," I
said trying to stay calm. "I do what I do because we need the money."

"And, why is that?" he slurred
as he got to his feet and staggered toward me. "Why do we need all this
money, huh? Are you a money hungry bitch?"

"No, I'm not," I said as I took
a deep breath and tried to keep my anger in check. "I'm not a money hungry
bitch, Tommy."

"Then explain to me why we need all
this money that you're earning, will you?" He lurched toward me waving his
hand as he tried to make his point. "Explain to me why I have a full time
job and am running a second business in back, but you feel the need to go to
work and LEAVE ME ALONE! Why do you do it? Are you just that selfish and
greedy, Emily? Are you?"

He poked and poked and came at me from all
sides as I tried to figure out a way to turn this one-sided conversation
around. And then he grabbed me and yelled, "Are you cheating on me? Is
that why you're flying off around the world and leaving me here to keep
everything together?"

It was the last straw, and my nerves,
which were raw to begin with, gave way. I turned and grabbed his shirt and
yelled in his face, "No, that's not it at all! I work because you are an
alcoholic baggage handler who can't seem to remember to charge enough for a
repair job so that we're not in the red for it! I work because someone has to
pay the bills around here and keep things going! I work so that I can earn
enough money to pay off our debts and put something in savings every month, but
most of all do you know why I work, Tommy?" I was screaming at him at the
top of my lungs. "I work because I can't stand being around you anymore
and I have to get away from this house as often as I can!"

I didn't see it coming. Tommy pulled his
hand back and slapped me across the face so hard that my neck snapped and I
went flying to the floor. I brought my hand up to my face and looked up at him
in horror. He'd never once hit me in the entire time we'd been together. He'd
never even raised his voice to me. This was completely out of character, but I
wasn't willing to stick around and find out if it was part of his new
character.

I pulled myself off the floor as he
watched me with a shocked look on his own face. I didn't think it had quite
registered with him what he'd done. And in that moment, I knew our marriage was
over. There was no going back. We'd crossed over the point of no return and I
was not going to give him a second chance.

"Emily?" His voice sounded small
and lost. It was a radical difference from the arrogant drunk I'd walked in on
an hour before. "Em? I'm sorry."

I gathered up what things I could, and
walked out to the front yard where I surveyed the damage and grabbed the things
that were of value to me. Tommy followed and stood in the doorway calling my
name as I gathered my things and put them in the trunk of my car. I didn't say
a word to him. I simply packed my things into the car, then looked up at the
front door and gave him a sad smile.

"Tommy, I'm done," I said with a
sad smile. "We had a good run, but it's over. And I mean over over.
There's no going back. I don't want to be married to you anymore."

"But, Emily," he began. I held
up a hand and shook my head.

"We're done," I said as I walked
to the car and slid inside. I slipped the key into the ignition and turned it
hearing the engine roar to life. I took one last look at the house that had
once held so much hope and promise, and then I waved one last time as I put the
car in reverse and backed out of the driveway and left my old life behind.

I pulled into the road and shifted the car
into drive, put my foot on the gas, and moved forward into my new life.

Chapter
Fifty-One

Emily

I
sat on a bench in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower and listened to a guide
telling a group of tourists about the history of the tower.

"The tower was criticized by the
'Committee of Three Hundred,' so named because it had one member for every
meter of the tower's height," he said lowering his voice to a
conspiratorial level. "The Committee said the tower would dominate Paris
like a gigantic black smokestack, crushing under its barbaric bulk Notre Dame,
the Tour Saint-Jacques, the Louvre, the Dome of les Invalides, and the Arc de
Triomphe and that for twenty years, the city would see stretching like a blot
of ink the hateful shadow of the hateful column of bolted steel metal."

"Oh goodness," gasped a woman
wearing the classic French scarf tied jauntily around her neck. Her attempt at
looking French was not assisted by the rest of her outfit; a pair of bright red
skinny jeans, a tight navy blue t-shirt with a scoop neck and an American flag
silkscreened on the front topped with a white windbreaker. The camera hanging
around her neck completed the outfit in a way that the scarf couldn't compete
with.

I pulled my trench coat around me a little
tighter and looked down the path at the tall steel structure casting a shadow
on the people below it. I had been in the city for several days on a layover
from New York and had decided that this time I'd get out and see a bit of
Paris. As I looked around, I thought about Austin and how I hadn't heard from
him in a few months.

Whatever we'd had in Sydney had died out
once I left. I'd texted him a few times to see how he was doing and to try and
explain why I'd left so quickly. I still wondered if he'd found my note and if
he had, why he wasn't willing to talk to me. I'd told him I'd be back, hadn't
I?

What I had noticed over the past few
months was that my flight assignments had gotten better and that my trips were
to some of the more exotic places on the airline's flight schedule. I'd seen
Indonesia, the French Polynesian Islands, and had spent a few nights in
Marrakesh, but mostly I flew the route from Los Angeles to London. It was an
easy flight with very few disruptions in first class, and I'd gotten
comfortable with the routine.

Back home, I'd walked out on Tommy hoping
that the beginning of the end with him would allow me to see what Austin and I
might have. But after weeks of not being able to get in touch with Austin, I
started to doubt my decision and after Tommy called one night crying and saying
he was so sorry for all he'd done, I decided that it might have been a pipe
dream to think that Austin cared for me. So, I went back home and tried to
shape our life together into something that we could build on. It wasn't what I
really wanted, but it was my life.

My mother had been thrilled that I'd gone
back to Tommy and now she was nagging me about when she could look forward to
having a grandchild to spoil. The thought of having a baby made me feel ill.
Tommy was still drinking and gambling, but he'd cut back to doing it when I was
on trips. When I was home, he'd hang out in the backyard working on a project,
as he called it, and coming inside to ask what was for dinner. I'd give him a
tight smile and tell him whatever it was that I'd prepared.

The worst were the nights when he wanted
to make love. When we'd been young, sex had been a grand adventure. We were
each other's firsts and, I assumed, lasts. We weren't particularly imaginative,
but he'd always been sweet and kind and I'd always thought sex with him was the
best it could be, but after the passionate nights I'd spent with Austin, I knew
that Tommy was not the lover of my dreams. Not by a long shot. So, I tried, but
it was never very good, and I was often thankful when Tommy would fall asleep
before we were able to get past the kissing and fumbling groping. Those nights,
I'd reach down between my legs and call up the memory of Austin's hands on my
body and his lips pressed against mine as he slowly pressed himself deep inside
of me, and I would orgasm as I cried for what might have been.

A cold wind blew across my face and I
looked up and noticed that the sun had sunk low on the horizon. I needed to get
back to the hotel for Tommy's nightly check-in call. He'd started doing that
when he'd started playing poker while I was gone. It seemed that the more he
cheated, the more he wanted to make absolutely sure that I wasn't.

"Why am I doing this?" I said to
a group of hopeful pigeons that had gathered near my feet in the hope that I'd
toss out some crumbs.

"Doing what?" said a voice that
for a moment, I swore came from on of the birds.

"Huh?" I said spinning around to
find a small man seated on the bench beside me pulling large chunks of bread
from what smelled like a freshly baked loaf.

"Doing what?" he repeated as he
broke off bread and tossed it to the waiting crowd.

"Oh, nothing," I said shaking my
head. "I was just talking to myself."

"Ah, I see," said the little
man. He was wearing a driving cap that obscured his face and a big tweed coat
that made him look like he was drowning it fabric. "I often talk to
myself. And the birds. They are very good listeners, that is if I bring bread.
Otherwise, not so much." He laughed lightly as he threw another chunk of
bread and watched the birds race to be the first to claim it.

"I see," I laughed with him.
"They're a greedy bunch!"

"Oh, no, not greedy," he said
smiling. "They just know what they need and aren't afraid to take
it."

"But isn't that a form of
greed?" I asked, wondering how a man feeding birds could hone in on my
issue without knowing anything about me.

"No, my dear," he said as he
threw piece after piece in rapid succession until each bird had a piece of
bread. "Settling for less than one wants or needs is actually the greedy
thing. It's weak and it relies on others to make the decisions. Taking what one
wants or needs is the epitome of strength."

"But if I take what I want..." I
began and then stopped.

"Someone will get hurt?" he
finished.

"Yes," I said bowing my head and
feeling ashamed.

"But what is the price of not taking
what you want?" he asked. "If these birds didn't take what they
wanted and needed, they would likely die. Isn't that the same for humans?"

"Yes, but I don't think you can
compare bread in a park to a marriage," I blurted out. Then, I blushed as
I realized that I'd just told a complete stranger about my problems.

"Oh, I think you can," he said
smiling again. "In fact, I think it's the perfect comparison. Bread is
both a life-giving substance and a pleasurable treat for these birds. Take it
away and they'd find worms or bugs, but life wouldn't be as sweet as it is when
they can come to me and get bread."

"But if they eat a diet that consists
solely of bread, then they'll die!" I cried.

"True," said the old man with a
thoughtful look on his face. "But their systems have adapted so that they
can eat both and survive, but the act of coming and taking bread from me is so
much more fun, don't you think?"

"I suppose," I said.

"Look at it this way, dear," he
said. "Birds don't have to eat bread, but they choose to do it. That must
account for something, right? I just choose to believe that it's because they
prefer the human contact over digging cold worms out of the dirt!"

I laughed loudly as I thought about what
he was saying and then smiled at him as I got up off the bench and turned
toward my hotel.

"Whatever it is you're trying to
decide," he called after me in a voice that took to the air. "You
haven't yet made the right decision. If you had, you'd be walking lightly and
looking forward to going wherever you're headed."

I walked a few steps as I thought about
what he'd said, and then turned to say something and found the bench empty and
the birds gone. I walked the whole way back to the hotel muttering under my
breath about how Paris was making me crazy.