Sleeping With My Boss: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (A Dirty Office Romance) (69 page)

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

Echo

The
next morning I
woke up disappointed to find the other side of the bed empty. I'd slept soundly
all night after helping Ryan fall asleep, but I felt tight and tense after
sitting on the couch for several hours waiting for him to fall into a deep
sleep. I'd hoped to wake up next to him, but realized I should have known
better. Ryan wasn't the kind of guy who would show up in a girl's bed
uninvited.
 

"Ryan?"
I called hoping that he was somewhere downstairs and would come bounding up the
stairs ready to join me. There was no answer, though. "Ryan? Are you down
there?"

When I got no
reply, I pulled on my robe over my nightgown and headed down to see what was
going on. I saw my laptop open on the counter and a slip of paper lying next to
it. I picked it up and read:

Echo,

Sorry
I couldn't stay. I need to take care of a few things. Be back in a few days.
Don't worry.

Ryan

I slammed my hand
down on the counter and swore under my breath before I ran to my purse and
pulled out my phone. I quickly typed out a text and hit send. He'd have to
respond to me at some point.

I sent a second
text to Cece asking her to come over, if she could, before I headed into the
bathroom to shower and get dressed. Fifteen minutes later there was a knock at
the door, and when I opened it, Cece was standing there holding a carrier with
two coffees and a bag of pastries from the bodega down the block.

"You rang,
chica?" she grinned as she stepped through the door and set the food down.
She gave me a hug and then grabbed a coffee and the bag of pastries as she made
her way to the couch. "So, what's up?"

"Thank you
for the coffee," I said with a grateful smile as I grabbed mine and joined
her.

"No hay
problema, chica," she smiled as she pulled a cheese danish from the bag
and took a huge bite. "And again, I ask, what's up?"

"I don't know
what the hell is going on," I said as I took a sip of coffee, then
proceeded to tell her about the funeral and what happened afterwards. "And
when I woke up this morning he was gone. I have no idea where he went or what
he's doing."

"The boy
doesn't want to be found," she said as she chewed thoughtfully then said
with a mischievous grin, "But that doesn't mean we can't find him."

"I know we
can find him, Cece," I said shaking my head. "But does that mean we
should? I'm worried about him. He's lost his friend, his father and now the
money and his father's company. And I'm getting cryptic emails from his dead
father giving me information about the project he was working on, but no
insight into why he was doing what he was doing or what I should be doing with
the information."

"That is
bizarre," she said as she brushed the crumbs off of her blood red tank
top. Her nail polish matched the top perfectly as did her lipstick. I felt
mousy and plain next to her bold look. "But lay out the details, chica.
Your boss dies, his son comes home, and you start getting classified
information that you are not supposed to share with the man who fired you just
before you get fired. How does this all fit together?"

"Well, now that
you put it that way," I laughed. "It seems kind of obvious that Dr.
Powell was doing something that he didn't want Mr. Baines to know about, but
Mr. Baines must already know something about it and thinks I do, too, or else
he wouldn't have fired me, right?"

"Ooooh,
you're a regular Sherlock Homes," she said taking a second pastry and
biting into it. "I love that guy, by the way."

"My evil
ex-boss?" I asked.

"No, Sherlock
Homes," she laughed harder. "Stay with me, chica."

"Cece, you're
crazy," I laughed with her. "But what does this all mean? Now Ryan's
gone AWOL and I need to figure out what to do with the emails."

"Maybe it's
part of a larger puzzle," she suggested as she licked her fingers.
"What else could be going on? Think about it, chica!"

"I don't
know, maybe Julian Baines had Dr. Powell murdered so he could get his hands on
the research?" I said feeling completely foolish for even thinking such a
ridiculous thing. When on earth had someone murdered? That was a plot device
for television shows, not real life.

"Could he
have done it?" Cece asked.

"Cece, that's
just plain stupid," I said. "Why would Julian Baines want to kill his
best friend the man who also happens to be his business partner?"

"You're
asking me?" she said. "I can think of a hundred different reasons for
why people want to kill one another; old grudges, money, sex, power...want me
to keep going?"

"But what
could Dr. Powell have that Baines would want enough to kill him for it?" I
asked.

"Not a
clue," Cece said as she peeked into the bag and asked, "You want this
last one?"

"No, it's all
you," I said turning the problem over in my brain. I had no idea what
Baines's grudge could be, but all of a sudden I thought of someone who might
know. I turned to Cece and asked, "Want to run an errand with me?"

"Sure, why
not?" she smiled. "I'm fed and caffeinated, so I'll be great company
for a few hours!"

I laughed as I
gathered my things. I hesitated before loading the laptop into a bag and
throwing it over my shoulder. I wasn't sure how this would turn out, but if I
had a chance to install the program I'd spent the past several days coding, I
didn't want to miss the opportunity.

"Alright,
Cece, let's ride," I said as I pulled open the door and crossed my fingers
hoping that what we were about to do wouldn't get anyone in trouble.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

Ryan

I
left Echo's
apartment in the early hours of the morning kicking myself for thinking my
dream could ever become a reality. She was Mando's girlfriend and she'd been
kind to me. My mind replayed my dream and the way her body had curved under my
hands as I'd stroked and caressed her leaving me with the same ache I'd had
last night. In my dream, she'd wanted more, and so had I, but there was
something about crossing that line that felt like a total betrayal, and I just
couldn't do it.

"You
idiot!" I muttered as I rubbed the stubble I hadn't had time to shave off
before leaving the apartment. My conscience wrestled with the erection in my
pants, and, this time, my overactive conscience had won. I couldn't guarantee
that it would win again, though, so I'd packed up and left Echo a note telling
her I'd be gone for a few days. I needed to remove the temptation and get some
answers to questions about my father.

It had been a week
since I'd had a good workout, so I ran the distance between Echo's apartment
and Eva's mother's townhouse in Murray Hill. By the time I rang the doorbell, I
was sweating like crazy and fairly sure that Eva would find this offensive, but
I was past caring. Now I wanted answers.

The maid that
answered the door looked me up and down and asked me to wait on the doorstep
until she called Miss Eva down. I nodded and leaned against the railing as I
caught my breath. Eva appeared a few minutes later.

"Oh my,
goodness, you are rather sweaty, aren't you?" she said as she handed me a
towel and backed away. "Dry off before you come in or you'll sweat on the
carpet and Mummy will have a fit."

"Thanks,"
I said taking the towel and wiping away as much moisture as I could. I'd never
understood Eva's relationship with her mother or why she and her siblings all
called her "Mummy" when they had been born and raised here in
Manhattan.

"How are you
doing?" Eva asked as she led me up a flight of stairs to a room that was
situated away from the main area of the townhouse.

"I'm
okay," I said eyeing her. She was wearing a black tank top and a long
black skit both of which clung to her like a second skin. Her hair had been
dyed an unnatural shade of black and I wanted to ask her if she wasn't taking
the widow in mourning thing a little to far.

"Do you need
anything?" she asked.

"You mean
besides a place to live?" I replied drily.

"Don't get
mad at me about the apartment," she retorted. "I had no idea what was
going on with the finances. Do you need some money? I have a little cash."

She walked over to
a small writing desk in the far corner of the room, opened a drawer and
rummaged around for a few seconds before extracting an envelope. She crossed
the room and handed it to me.

"That's all
I've got right now, but I can get more if you need it," she said as I examined
the contents and found five crisp hundred dollar bills inside.

"Thanks, I
appreciate that, but I'm fine, really," I said as I pocketed the money. I
didn't want to take money from her, but I knew that Echo could use the cash now
that she was out of a job. "How are you doing?"

"Oh
Ryan," she said as tears welled up in her eyes. I wanted to feel sorry for
her, but I could tell that this was a performance she'd been giving for
audiences that expected her to play the part.

"Eva, knock
it off with the crocodile tears," I said. "I know you're sad, I know
you're devastated, I know you're a widow. What I really want to know is what
happened to my father. Why is he dead?"

"How the hell
would I know?" she hissed as she quickly shifted from grieving widow to possibly
accused. "I didn't have any control over what that man ate or drank or who
he screwed, and I warned him about all of it."

"What the
hell are you talking about?" I demanded. "My father never played
around!"

"Oh God, you
are so naive," she laughed without humor. "Darling, your father and I
had a marriage of great convenience. I loved him, and I'm fairly certain that
he loved me, but he was not crazy mad in love, and I realized it too late to be
able to change things. Your father loved only two things, your dear departed
saintly mother and his goddamn research."

"Be very
careful where you tread," I warned her.

"Oh please,
I've been treading carefully for years," she said as she stood up and
walked to the bar. She poured herself a generous shot of whiskey from the
crystal decanter on the bar, and then offered me a drink. I shook my head and
she shrugged as she replaced the stopper and picked up her tumbler. "Ryan,
it's hard to find out that our parents are not the saintly people we've been
led to believe they are, but sometimes that all comes crashing down at the most
inopportune time."

"What the
hell are you babbling on about, Eva?" I said through gritted teeth.

"Look, as I
said, I loved your father and, I think in his own twisted way, he loved
me," she said as she sipped her drink. "But he married me because he
needed money while I married him because I was in love. We lived together,
attended functions together, and generally supported one another, but he did
not allow us to live as husband and wife."

"Okay, so
what the hell was going on, then?" I demanded. "My father wasn't like
that! He said he'd married you because he loved you and because you were
someone who brought light into his life after a long time of darkness. Now
you're telling me that it was all a sham?"

"Well, not
quite a sham," she smiled. "We consummated the marriage for legal
reasons, but after that he never shared my bed again. Look, I loved your
father, I did, but he loved nothing but his research."

"So, what the
hell is going on with his will and the corner's report?" I asked. The last
thing I wanted to hear was a detailed run down of my father's non-existent sex
life with his much younger wife.

"You don't
want to know about how your father got his needs met outside of the marital bed?"
she asked as she peered over the edge of her glass.

"No, I most
certainly don't," I said feeling the anger beginning to rise and not
wanting to let her know she was getting to me.

"You don't
want to know about all the hookers your father hired or the clubs he
frequented?" she asked quietly.

"Why are you
doing this to me?"
 
I asked.
"Better yet, why are you doing this to my father?"

"I put up
with his obsession for ten years," she said bitterly as she set her glass
down and studied her bright red nails. "I put up with being ignored and
shoved to the side as he searched for the answers to some question that he
wouldn't even share with me!"

"There was no
way my father hired hookers," I said knowing that she was throwing out
everything she could just to hurt me.

"I have no
idea what he did for sex," she sighed. "But I can't imagine that a
man as handsome and virile as your father decided to forgo sex as he worked on
his research project. He had to have had an outlet."

"What makes
you think that? And why does it matter?"

"It matters
because my husband didn't want me!" she screamed as she stood up towering
over me. "Look at me! I'm a beautiful woman, and the man I loved didn't
want me!"

"Calm down,
Eva," I said holding up a hand as I quickly searched for a way to mollify
her. "I'm sure my father had his reasons for what he did, and most likely
they didn't have anything to do with not being attracted to you."

"He was
attracted to that lab of his," she said as she sat back down, smoothed her
skirt and picked up her drink. "He spent the majority of his time at work
on that stupid project of his. Maybe he was fooling around with that cute
little secretary."

I felt my pulse
begin to race as I thought about how wrong Eva was about that one, but I knew
better than to play my hand simply to prove that my father was innocent.

"Eva, what
was my father working on?" I asked turning the conversation toward
something that might give me information.

"I have no
idea," she said as she took a gulp of her whiskey and got up to refill her
glass. "Julian said it was something about technology that could be used
on battlefields to help prevent people from dying."

"Wait, Julian
told you this?" I asked. For a brief second, Eva looked worried and then
she quickly pulled back on the cool socialite mask and smiled.

"Yes, he told
me about it at the company dinner he hosted a few weeks ago," she said
taking a sip from her glass. "Alan brought me along to entertain the other
wives, but he needn't have since he and Julian were so good at performing for a
crowd."

"Why did
Julian host a dinner for the company?" I asked. There was something about
this that sounded all wrong.

"Oh, he does
that on occasion, as a reward for hard work or something," she said
sitting down again. "I think this was because of some deal that he'd made
with a company who'd be funding your father's research projects."

"And who is
that?" I asked.

"I have no
idea. I don't really have a head for business, so I tend to tune out the
unimportant details," she said looking out the window and avoiding my
eyes. I knew something was wrong. Eva did indeed have a head for details, but
she didn't want to share these with me.

"So, how are
we going to get the corner's report?" I asked changing the subject
entirely.

"What? Oh,
that?" she stammered and then recovered. "I've got a call in to a
friend of mine and hopefully we'll have the report by Monday or Tuesday."

"I see,"
I said. Then I leaned forward in my chair and quietly said, "Eva, if you
know something, you'd better tell me now."

"What on
earth could I possibly know?" she laughed nervously. "I know
nothing."

"You know
something, and we both know that," I said standing up. "The question
is whether you are willing to go to prison for what you know."

"What the
hell are you talking about?" she shouted. I knew I was bluffing, but there
was part of me that wondered how much it would take to get her to crack. I
stared at her as she blustered looking for the words to express her outrage at
being accused of something illegal.

"You know
exactly what I'm talking about," I said cooly as I walked toward the door.
"I think you know what happened to my father, and when I find out what it
is you know, I'm going to make sure you pay the price for having kept the
information from me."

"Ryan, I
don't know what you take me for, but I truly am grieving the loss of my
husband," she said in a sad tired voice. "I miss him terribly and I'm
not sure how I'm going to make it without him."

"Ah, I
see," I said looking across the room feeling sorry for her but also
frustrated that she wasn't going to give me the information I needed. It
briefly crossed my mind that she might not, in fact, know anything, and yet
when I looked at her perfectly painted face I felt certain that she was hiding
something. I nodded, "Okay, so that's how it's going to go? Fine. Be the
grieving widow for as long as you can because once I figure out what the hell
is going on around here, we'll settle this once and for all."

"Don't be so
quick to judge me," Eva said as a sad smile spread across her lips.
"You have no idea what kind of life I've lived." As she stared into
my eyes, and I could see that she was hiding something, but since I had no idea
what that was, and she wasn't going to give anything away, I had to let it go.

"I'll see
myself out," I said as I opened the sitting room door and then quietly
closed it behind me.

#

I
left Eva's and walked uptown to the Manhattan Club. My father had maintained a
membership at the club for over twenty years and I wanted to know if he'd been
in good standing at the time of his death. I wasn't sure if the club's manager
would talk to me, but I wagered that he might talk with a bereaved son, and if
I had to, I'd play the military service card, too.

"May I help
you?" the concierge at the front desk asked as I entered the lobby. I
hadn't been inside the club for more than a decade, but I recognized that
nothing had changed. The thick burgundy carpeting still muffled my footsteps,
the dark walnut furniture still looked like it would swallow up anyone who sat
on it, and the thick scent of expensive cigars and whiskey permeated the air.
This was a man's club and it made no secret of that fact.

"I'm Dr. Alan
Powell's son," I said as I held out my hand. Recognition flashed across
the man's face as he offered his hand.

"I'm so sorry
for your loss, Lieutenant Powell," the concierge replied with a mournful
look as he shook my hand. "Your father was very well respected at the club
and we will definitely miss him."