Because I Love You (10 page)

“Why are you in such a hurry? Anxious to thank me for telling the blowhard how things are? What a horse's arse.”

Leah couldn't speak. Tris was going on and on about his encounter with Tad, oblivious to the fact that she was furious. And the more he talked the angrier she got. By the time they reached the car and they'd both buckled into their seats, she was fuming. The second he reached for her, Leah lashed out and smacked his hand away.

“What is wrong with you?” she snapped. “You should have walked away from him. He's my boss and he can make my life hell at work without trying too hard.”

“What are you talking about?” Tris stuck the key in the ignition and Leah pulled it out, tucking it under her bum for safekeeping. “Oh, for Christ's sake . . .” he growled.

“What? You don't want to deal with the fact that I'm upset? Too bad. I'm furious.”

“I don't understand why. Did you hear what he was saying about you? That you're some kind of fortune hunter? I had half a mind to tell him you could buy and sell his sorry ass. But the disrespect, what a prick. You don't need his shit attitude.”

How had she missed this about him? Was he really that obtuse? “Of course I need him! He's one of my direct superiors. If I have any chance of advancing, I need him to see me as capable of holding a leadership position in the firm. You should have left it alone. You insulted him.”

“He insulted you! Was I supposed to stand there and let him do that?”

“Yes. You were. He's not your concern. He's mine.”

She couldn't explain it any more clearly, and she assumed the silence in the car indicated that Tristan understood, he just didn't like that he'd been wrong.

“But you are my concern. I care about you. And I will defend you.” His statement was quiet and firm. A statement of fact.

It hit her like a bucketful of water. Leah fought every day to be seen as an equal in a male-dominated firm. She'd given up any hope of a personal life because she knew relationships and being a woman trying to get ahead didn't mix. Now her boyfriend, who thought she needed protecting, may have derailed her career. Tad was an ass, but there were a lot of them in her line of work.

Tristan wasn't going to be able to save her every time someone insulted her.

“Take me home, please.” Pulling the car key from its safe place, she handed it to him.

“Home. Okay. Am I—”

She didn't let him finish. “No. I don't want you to stay tonight.”

“Leah, you're being ridiculous.” The pinched expression on his face told her that he knew he'd just made a really big mistake. “I didn't mean ridiculous. I meant silly.”

Looking over as he negotiated the traffic leaving the parking lot, he gave her a sheepish smile. “I didn't mean silly, either.”

Leah didn't speak. She felt it was better to keep her eyes focused out the window. She wasn't going to cry in front of him, and for some reason she felt like she might. Leah never cried. Never. But the level of disappointment she felt brought every emotion right to the surface.

“I didn't mean anything by what I said back there. I just hate it when men treat women like they're somehow lesser. And you matter to me. I couldn't just let him insult you.”

“Did anything change? Will what you said to him change the way he thinks?” It was a reasonable question.

Tris breathed out, angry, but reining it in. “I don't know. But he is now aware that you have someone in your corner.”

“So instead of seeing me as
a
piece of ass, he'll see me as
your
piece of ass. Awesome.”

“What do you mean, ‘a piece of ass'? Has he hit on you?”

“Me and most of the women in the office. It happens.” Leah had adjusted to the office politics quickly. It wasn't perfect,
but Wall Street was testosterone-heavy, especially some of the smaller firms. Most of the men she worked with were perfect gentlemen. Tad, however, was an entitled asshole. But she managed him fine. After what had happened in Boston, there was no way Leah was going to make waves. She would duck and weave, and keep her head down. There would always be assholes. She'd just have to deal with them.

Tris didn't say anything, and when Leah finally looked in his direction, she could see the hard lines of his face in the passing streetlights. He was angry. Really angry.

Shit.

They rode on in silence, not making the usual comments about traffic late at night, or why they hadn't just taken the train. But all in all, the ride over the bridge and through the city was painless. Well, as painless as it could be when you and your boyfriend had your first real fight.

But that was something else. This whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing was still new, and they hadn't made their relationship truly public. Reliance was having one its famed dinner parties coming up, and he hadn't said anything about going together. It was starting to piss her off, too.

Based on the scowl he was wearing, he was pretty angry at her as well, and that annoyed the crap out of her. He made all the turns without asking for directions; the way to her apartment had become familiar. Lately, he'd been coming right to her place from work and they'd settle in for the night while his luxury loft sat empty. If she thought about it, their relationship was pretty serious.

She'd gotten used to him.

Serious hadn't been in her plan. Or his. They were going to keep things casual. Friends with benefits. Back to just friends. Then they were going to take things slow, see how the couple thing evolved. Instead, they mattered to each other, and now they were fighting.

Tears pricked at her eyes and she wiped them away as discreetly as possible, because she didn't even know why she was crying. Yes, she did. Tris was angry, and she had a bad feeling about how this was going to go.

But she was mad, too. He'd opened a can of worms telling off Tad. The idiot didn't even think he'd done anything wrong.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes again.

“Do you need a Kleenex?” His voice, low and smooth, drifted over her.

“I'm fine.” She wasn't fine.

Luckily, there was a parking spot on her street and Tris eased his Jag into the space, cut the engine, and trained his gaze on her. She looked ahead, looked down, anywhere to avoid Tristan's stare, not knowing what to say.

Finally, she gripped the door handle because she couldn't just sit there, the silence reminding her of how much she would miss him.

But Leah never got a chance to open the door. Tristan's fingers twined with hers.

“Let's talk about this. Please?”

“Is there anything to say?”

Leah made a fatal mistake when she turned her head and found herself locked in his gaze. In the dim light his eyes looked like black velvet, making her think of his soft kisses and gentle touch. Her eyes filled and he pulled her in, holding
her head tight to his chest and whispering into her hair. Lord, he smelled good, felt good, wrapped around her.

“Aw, Leah, please don't cry. Let's talk about it, love. We'll sort it all out. Tell me what has you upset. Let's start there.”

“I just . . . I don't know. It's hard for me to explain, but I'm really angry that you just thought you knew best about how to handle Tad. You jumped in, and I'm going to have to deal with the fallout.”

“I know that. I shouldn't have been so obnoxious, but he was so damned snide. I wanted him to know you're no one to be trifled with.”

“Because I have you?” She was touched by his protectiveness, but his good intentions didn't solve what she now saw as a problem. “I'm now the woman whose boyfriend has to protect her. I can just hear it.”

“I'm not going to apologize for watching your back. To a man like Tad, and I did remember him from the London seminar—he's a prick, truly—knowing you have someone will make him think twice.”

It made sense, but she didn't know if she agreed. Tad was one of those men who did what he wanted.

“But now,” Tristan's finger settled under her chin and he lifted her face to his. “You need to tell me about the harassment. And don't tell me it happens everywhere. It doesn't.”

This was a sore subject. He was right. It didn't happen everywhere. It certainly didn't happen at Reliance. But the culture at some firms, be they investment banking firms, law firms, or hedge funds, was to take what was dished out, or say good-bye. Yes, there was a line that shouldn't be crossed, but she couldn't appear to have a thin skin. It would be career suicide—her professional life couldn't take another hit.

“He flirts, and teases. I have it under control.” And she did. That Tristan didn't believe her was another sore spot.

“Right, until some office dinner, when he's had too much to drink and you find yourself pressed against the wall in some bathroom.”

“He wouldn't . . .” Leah didn't believe Tad would have the nerve to commit assault. It was too risky. “I just don't see that happening.”

“I know, and I'm telling you, it could happen. He would take what he wants because he thinks it's owed to him.”

The scenario was too out of left field. Even for Tad. “So, how do you think I should handle him?”

“Go to HR and file a complaint. The next time he crosses the line, you have to say something. Then once he knows his behavior is documented, he might back off.”

She pulled away. “I can't do that. My chances to move up in the firm will be history.”

“Then that's not the place you should be. Find another job.”

For a second, Leah wasn't sure she heard him right. Was he telling her what to do with her career?

“I'm not leaving. There are good people and I like the work.”

“You're being obstinate.” He sniffed. Could he be any more annoyingly British? “There are plenty of good positions. Get your CV ready and send it out. I can help you. I bet I could find you a job making less than five phone calls.”

Less than five phone calls. It had taken her months to find the right job, and the guy in the driver's seat believed he
could handle it without any trouble at all. He did not have a freaking clue, and he obviously didn't care where she landed as long as
he
deemed it acceptable.

“I can't believe you just said that.”

“What?”

Fumbling for her purse, Leah grabbed the door handle. This discussion was over. “I've never had anyone be so dismissive of me, and what I want, in my life.”

“Dismissive? What . . . I wasn't dismissive. I'm trying to help. I want to make things easier for you.”

“
You're trying to run my life
,” she snapped. “Which isn't
acceptable
.
I
decide how my career goes. Not you and not your five phone calls.” She got out of the Jag before he could stop her, and quickly made her way up her stoop. Turning was probably a bad idea, but when she looked back, Tris was standing and leaning into the Jag, but he wasn't following. He was staring at her, hands folded on the roof of his expensive roadster, confused. Yeah, he was pissed off. But so was Leah. “I don't need you to explain my life to me, Tristan. I happen to be a fairly intelligent, professional woman and I can make my own decisions.”

“I never said you couldn't. Are you having an episode? My God. I was merely offering some advice and help.”

“An episode . . .” Jesus. Leah's head was going to explode. He had absolutely no clue. She'd fought long and hard to get where she was. She had a law degree from an Ivy League school and he was asking if she was having a fucking episode. Was he going to guide her to a fainting couch?

As angry as she was, there was no use in cutting loose. He'd probably tell her she was being irrational. What an ass. How stupid had she been to think he was different?

Nice job, Leah.

“No, no episode,” she said quietly, holding on to her last shred of control. “Just me going inside. I'll see you.”

Again, she had to move fast, because she heard him move to catch up. It seemed the reality of what was happening finally sank in. He was like so many other men in her life, including the wretched Tad. She was a woman. She didn't understand, and the man needed to protect her from herself. How could she be with someone like that?

“Leah, wait. Don't do this. I'm sorry. I didn't think . . .”

But she closed the door just as he reached it, and not knowing how, she kept her wits about her enough to shake her head and leave him standing there. She didn't cry, she didn't look back.

“Leah, let me in. I'm sorry . . .”

The old elevator was slow, but still, Leah kept focused on the job of getting to her apartment. She couldn't think about Tris, or how he looked when she basically closed the door in his face. Her heart started to ache as his words echoed in her head.

Once she was in her apartment, Leah dropped her bag and her baseball cap in the living room. It was dark except for the glow of the streetlights coming in the large front window. Looking out, she could see him staring up at her window. She
didn't think he could see her, but maybe he could. It didn't really matter. After a few seconds he got in his car and sped off down the street.

Sitting on the large, comfortable sofa where she and Tris had watched TV, talked, and had made love more than once, Leah gave in to the sorrow filling her from the bottom up and cried.

*  *  *

Women.

Try as he might, Tristan couldn't concentrate on any of the pressing tasks that had come across his desk in the past few days. And it was because of women. Well, one woman. One woman with deep red curls and eyes that made him forget his own name.

What the hell had he done?

All he could think about was how Leah looked when she left him the other night, and how he'd made a complete mess of things. As he ran over the conversation in his head, he thought he might have been possessed by demons that made him sound like a total misogynistic ass.

It was the only explanation he had for saying things that were so far from acceptable he was surprised she hadn't thrown something at him. Now he had to fix it, or resign himself to the fact that he was going to lose her. Which just wasn't something he was prepared to do.

He needed a woman's opinion. He thought he might ask Harper, she was whip smart and would give him good advice, but she was in the last weeks of her pregnancy and Tris was a little afraid of her. Meg Campbell, the wife of one the partners, was always in and out, but he didn't know her well. Since he wasn't ready to call his sister and tell her about his love life, that left him with one possibility. “Robyn? Could you come in here a minute?”

His assistant, Robyn, was a woman in her early forties who was widowed and left to raise her twin daughters. They'd come to work with her one day, and Tris was impressed not only by their behavior, but by how they wanted to help.

He'd let them sit at the conference table in his office most of the day pretending they were his assistants.

“Do you need something, Mr. Wade?”

“Not exactly. Please come in and close the door. I need your help with something.”

“Oh, okay. I'm happy to help if I can.”

“First, you really need to stop calling me ‘Mr. Wade.' My name is Tristan, alright?”

“Oh, okay. Noted.” There she stood. Not moving until he motioned to a chair. She was a lovely woman, quiet and smart. But he'd obviously done a horrible job connecting with her and making her feel like part of the team. Once Robyn took a seat, he cleared his throat. Nerves. Pure and simple nerves. There was probably something wrong with involving her in his personal life, but he had no choice.

He'd charm her. He could be charming.

“I have a personal problem and, ah, I could use your help with it.”

Robyn bolted up from the chair. The look on her face was panic, like she was being chased by a mountain lion. “I'm sorry, I don't help with problems, um . . . I really have to get back to work, Mr. Wade.”

It took a second, but Tris realized what he had just said sounded like a come-on. “Oh, no! I'm having problems with my—my—girlfriend. I was hoping you could help me . . .”

Robyn narrowed her eyes, and then sat back down.

Rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, Tris realized this was a bad idea. Robyn barely knew him. This was proof Leah was making him crazy. In the past, he would have let it go and walked away. He'd have been content with the fact that it wasn't going to work out, but with Leah, that was proving difficult.

“Robyn, I apologize.” Tristan stood, his hands out, hoping she would see he was at a loss. “It was inappropriate for me to bring up my personal life with you. I'm at a loss as to how to get a certain lady to forgive me. But I should not have attempted to bring you into it.”

Rising slowly from her chair, confused, Robyn nodded. Based on the look on her face, she thought he was bonkers. Maybe he was. She didn't say anything, but just as she reached the office door, she turned back. “What's the problem?”

“Pardon?” There were so many problems.

“With the lady you've upset. What happened?”

Robyn was inching closer to him, not sure if she was crossing a line, but very curious. “I acted like a boor. I didn't respect her intelligence or her ability to make her own decisions.”

“So you were a know-it-all who tried to tell her what to do.”

Tris chuckled. He was going to like Robyn. She didn't mince words. “That's pretty much it.”

“Have you apologized?”

Tris leaned his hip against his desk. “Apologized?”

“Yes, you know . . . saying ‘I'm sorry'? You can do it. I just heard you.”

“Ah. I don't know that it would make much difference.”

Robyn returned to the seat she'd just left and focused her big blue eyes in his direction. She was an attractive woman. She wore her blond hair pulled back in a neat ponytail and dressed simply and stylishly. Everything about her screamed efficiency, but the spark in her eyes told him he'd left an important resource in the office untapped.

“It always makes a difference if you mean it. What about a big gesture?”

“A big gesture? Like flowers and candy? She's not the type.” He could just imagine Leah hitting him over the head with a bouquet of roses.