The Boss (A Billionaire Romance) (3 page)

Chapter 5

The following day at work crawled along like a slug over salt.

Sometimes Clara disliked being CEO of her own charity.

Not because trying to get donations from people for any kind of addict was too much like squeezing sap from a dead branch, which it most certainly was. But because witnessing how cruel human nature could be was often too awful to bear.

After meeting a new resident at one of the half-way-houses funded by her charity, she needed a time-out because of just such a situation.

The man bore the mark of the same lending sharks her father once used.

No police investigation could ever find enough evidence to send them to jail, but everyone knew who they were and what they did to repeat non-payers like her father, and like the man she met that afternoon.

If a debtor couldn't pay their debts, these sharks liked to take a hammer to their right hand and crush the bones to powder.

No amount of hospital treatment could fix it once they administered their special kind of retribution.

Clara remembered when her father went missing for a few months.

She was fifteen when she received his call, and rushed to a hospital out of town to find him with the exact same injury.

Gambling was always his addiction; it crippled her father and robbed Clara of their relationship.

His addiction started before she was born, so she never knew him before he became the bum no one trusted, the bum they pitied and avoided.

Before he became the family embarrassment.

Times like this she wished she had someone to lean on back home.

But dating was once again relegated to the 'something other people did' pile.

Back to chasing emails and text messages from Anon for fun.

And sometimes, just sometimes, she needed vodka too.

Once home from her lousy day, Clara poured a long glass of vodka, added tonic, a slice of lime, and two cubes of ice.

Snuggled into her couch, she picked up her cell to turn it off for a few hours reprieve, but before she did so, her friend's name popped up and the handset played Beyonce's ‘Single Ladies’.

"Hey Lisa," Clara sighed, dreading the conversation about to begin between them, "How's things?"

"Hectic." Lisa ran her own restaurant, and was head chef too. They met at school, became instant friends, and went on to study business management together at college. "Thought I'd get your answerphone. Are you home yet?"

"Yep, I'm home."

"I told you he was beautiful, didn't I? Are you in love yet? Did the date go well? Did you open those perfect pins of yours."

Lisa was never one for soft words.

"No!"

"You're playing hard to get, huh? Waiting for the second date to let him screw your cobwebs away? Nice touch."

Where should I start and can I be bothered?

"Well, the date ended early because he was almost an hour late and turned up filthy and smelling like a pool-hall."

Lisa said nothing.

She had let down her friend but Clara never did ask her to get involved with her love life.

"I don't have time to waste on playboys who think they can buy me off with bubbles, Lisa. Sorry, but your plan didn’t get me laid."

"His profile pic was sexy as hell. He even wore a suit, albeit with an open neck shirt. You surprise me, saying he turned up dirty."

"Sexy isn't everything." Of course, even filthy he was certainly sexy. "Good manners count for a lot, too."

"Are you saying he was sexy?"

Clara huffed, "Yeah, he was good looking. So what?"

"You should have let me show you his picture, you would have seen him in a better light. I even downloaded a copy to, um . . . enjoy myself with," she laughed.

"What if we'd started dating? Tell me you wouldn't masturbate over an image of my boyfriend."

"Well, I wouldn't keep it if you got serious, obviously."

Lisa would keep the picture in her 'Toy Bag' and would continue to use it until it no longer had the desired effect.

"Sure you would." Clara huffed. "Dating isn't all about looks anyhow, and I didn't want to be blindsided by a picture before I even met him. This way, I judged him on his actions, not only his freaking cheekbones."

"Who bit your ass? You're so serious, Clara. You'll die from a heart attack before you reach forty."

Clara's head started to ache again and she took a long swig of her vodka before saying, "Whatever. We were just a bad fit, Lisa. That's all I'm saying."

"I know you, remember? I bet if he turned up ten minutes early and dressed in a tux with a florist behind him, you would have found some reason to judge him negatively. Maybe he had a good reason for the way he looked. Did you ask why he was late?"

No I didn't ask, why should I?

"Like I said, I didn't have time to waste on him or his excuses."

"See? You never intended to give him a chance did you? Poor guy."

"Did too, and the poor guy was a bum with too much money. You date him if he's so hot."

"Only chance you gave him was the chance to fail. If you're honest, looks are everything when dating. If a chimp showed up swinging from the chandeliers, you might be entertained but you wouldn't want to take him back for coffee, now would you?"

Clara could feel her jaw tightening, her head thumping, "Lisa, I went along and met the guy, as you insisted, and he wasn't my type for whatever reason. End of the conversation."

Lisa paused before saying in a sweeter voice, "I just thought you were both so similar. If I could show you his details, you might change your mind."

"I don't even want to start dating; I'm not in the right place. I'm too…" Clara raised her voice, "Just back-off, yeah?"

"Cool it sweetie, I come in peace, remember."

Put in her place, Clara realized she'd shouted at her best friend.

"Shit, sorry Lisa." It was all getting on top of her. "You don't deserve my venom. I'm having a bad day as well as the bad date . . . but there is no excuse for my attitude. Forgive me?"

"Of course. I'm walking out of the kitchen and into the yard for a smoke. Unload your attitude on these broad shoulders. I can take it."

Clara loved Lisa, even if she did insist she do things she didn't want to do. "Those sharks hit another one of our service users earlier today. I went to see the poor guy at the halfway house he's at, and . . . I guess it just reminded me of . . ."

"Your dad, I get it." Lisa grew up with Clara so she witnessed her struggles with her father, and had been the shoulder she cried on many times when they were younger. "How did they get away with it this time?"

"They got away with it the same way they always do. No one knows a thing. No one saw a thing. No one heard a thing. Course, the guy who lost his hand won't say a word either, so the police have nothing to go on. It's infuriating; I was almost sick with it all."

"Who can blame them for not coming forward, though? The sharks have guys everywhere and they're cruel bastards."

Clara exhaled, utterly exhausted. "Days like today I want a machete and a free pass to dole out my own judgment. I'd show them cruel."

"Ouch, you're scary when you want to be."

Clara scoffed, wishing she could do more than be scary to people who earned a living from the misery of others.

Wishing the kind of badassery she administered was not solely in her imagination.

"You do all you can for them, you know?" said Lisa softly.

Clara sniffed back tears and gulped on more vodka. "Never enough though is it?"

After a short pause, where her cell grew hot against Clara's ear and her arm ached from the effort of holding the handset in place, Lisa asked, "You slurping on vodka by any chance?"

"You got it, and I intend to soak in a hot bath before an early night, too. I'm whacked."

"Sounds like a brilliant idea. You deserve a time-out by the sounds of it."

Another short pause drifted over them, where both realized there was nothing more to say on the subject.

Not without adding to the misery.

Lisa said finally, "I'm sorry I set you up on the date. It's just, you do so much for everyone else day in day out, but no one's looking out for your needs. Guess I wanted him to show you a good time, away from the daily grind."

Clara remembered Fredrick's beautiful face and honeyed tones, "Hey, I understand sweetie. And he was okay to look at, you were right about that. You picked a sexy guy. But I still left him gargling on expensive Champagne." She sniggered, though the effort to do so weighed heavily on her shoulders, "So . . . what did it say on his profile, anyway?"

"Lots, but what struck me was where it said he's a lonely guy looking for an intelligent lady to share fun times with. Plus, his dating rating is ninety-nine percent."

"Dating rating?"

They rate each other, online? Awful.

"Yes, that’s his score from previous dates. Women love this guy."

"How many dates has he had?" This all seemed too much like a game. Clara didn't play games or appreciate being a pawn in one. "Oh, why did I ever let you talk me into this nonsense?"

"Because you're a lonely, intelligent lady looking to share fun times."

"Am I though? I'm too busy to be lonely. As for intelligent?" Clara's throat began to swell, "You decided I was lonely, but that doesn't mean I am." Clara bit her lip, too tired to argue her point but upset all the same. "And he's exactly the kind of guy I expected would use those kinds of websites. Lisa, do me a favor; take down my profile. And don't set me up on anything else resembling a blind date."

Lisa ignored her, as always, "Sorry, nope. The profile is staying live. You'll be ready to try again in a week or two. They're not all bad. Men are human too... and you are not all right on your own. You need sex at the very least, just like the rest of us."

"Ever heard of masturbation?" Clara gripped her glass tight, "All I need for a great love life is batteries. Oh, that reminds me."

She walked to the shopping list on her fridge and added 'batteries.'

"A rubber dick is not the same as the real thing. Fact."

"How's your love life since you signed up to that dating site?" She was being a tad hypocritical. "All you ever get from it is laid. If I need anything I can't get for myself, I'll let you know. If I need anything at all from a man, it's a deeper understanding. Not a cock."

"Nothing wrong with my love life, thanks. Getting laid is all I have time for right now; don't knock it till you try it."

"I appreciate you and I love you, but I'm fine as I am. We're just different.”

“Alright, alright. I get it. I’ve got to go back into the restaurant now.”

“Bye, Lisa."

"Sweet dreams, Hun."

Clara smiled, refilled her glass, and shuffled to her bathroom.

Accepting that when she touched herself and thought of Anon's words as she always did, it would now be Fredrick's mouth she kissed.  

Chapter 6

Hours later, Clara was asleep in her bed, dreaming of Fredrick's smooth mouth on hers, his fingertips moving slowly over her tummy on their way to her sex, and the warm solid treat she imagined between his legs.

"So hot . . . ah," she moaned, throwing off her bedcovers to cool down.

Her moans irritated her sore chest, and she rolled over on her side to choke.

Something toxic smothered her lungs and stifled her breath…

Something was restricting her.

"What the . . ?" she said, struggling to sit up.

Wafting her arms around, she tried to clear a visual path.

"What's going on?" she said, rubbing her eyes and straining to see through the post-sleep blurry vision, into her hazy room.

Her room was too hot and her eyes were teary, making her sniff.

“Smoke? ... What the…”

The realization quickly set in.

“Fuck! My house is on fire!”

Rushing to listen at her bedroom door for clues as to whether she could escape through it, she was terrified of the heat against her cheek and the loud roar of flames beyond it.

How far away are the flames?

On this floor?

Should I stay in my room, where it's smoky, but at least there's no fire?

Yet.

"No, not that way," she said to herself, running over to her window to fiddle with the lock. "Fuck, fuck, please open. Open!"

In her panic, with smoke stinging her eyes, she couldn't turn the key and when she banged hard against the pane of glass, hoping to alert a passerby or break it, all she did was disable her wrist with a loud crack.

Panic.

"Ah . . ." Clara fell to the floor in pain, panting at the thick hot smoke as it passed beneath the door and corroded her lungs and throat.

Fuck.

The pillows on her bed would help to block the corrosive fumes, but Clara stared at them, already too dizzy and weak to get to her feet.

All she could do was scream as loud as her damaged throat would allow…

"Help, someone help. Help."

Her screams were muffled.

Her lungs were full already.

Fuck.

This was no way to go.

The floor came rushing towards her face, and crashed against her cheek.

Blackness swallowed her up in a kind of terrifying peace.

Her last thoughts were of a white rose, her father's tears, and Fredrick's smile.