Falling for Fate (15 page)

He watched her chest heave as she took a deep breath. He’d put that dark shadow of hurt in her eyes this time. The same one she’d had when he first met her. He’d done some shady things, most of them to women, but this was stabbing him square in the heart. The worst part was she didn’t cuss him out like he deserved. She was just going to take this from him. Because he was her boss. The realization made him sick. He’d become his father’s son after all.

“Fate, I’m sorry—” he began, but she cut him off.

“Mr. Maxell, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m going to level with you. At the moment, I need this job. I can assure you that I’ll be looking for another one immediately. As soon as I find something, I’ll submit my notice to you personally.” She grabbed her purse and scooted out of the booth before he had time to fully process what she’d said.

“Wait.” He gripped her wrist as she stood. “Relax. I don’t want you—”

“I don’t want you either,” she snapped, tearing her wrist from his grasp and stalking towards the exit.

“To quit,” he said quietly in the air to no one. He really didn’t. And he didn’t want her to call him Mr. Maxwell either. He wanted her to call him Dean. Softly, in the stillness of a darkened bedroom after he’d made love to her like he’d planned to do back in June.

“Looks like that went well.” Keaton’s eyes were on Fate’s retreating figure as he approached.

“She’s just…got a lot on her plate right now,” Gwen offered from beside him.

“Don’t we all.” He shook his head, angry with himself for having spoken to her like he had. She didn’t deserve that and he knew it. “I’m pretty sure Fate hates me,” he told them, letting his shoulders sag in defeat.

“I’ll say,” Keaton piped up with a harsh laugh. “Both literally and metaphorically speaking.”

Wasn’t that the truth.

T
wo full weeks went by, and none of the companies she’d applied to even called her for an interview. Probably looked kind of fishy that she wanted to leave a major medical conglomerate after just three months.

Work had been hectic, but Dean Maxwell had left her alone. Well, except for the detailed analysis he emailed her on the presentation she’d given. Had to give him credit—he was a hell of a lot more intelligent than she’d realized. He’d also pointed out a few weaknesses in her strategy for moving services back to American workers.

She didn’t know if she should thank him for taking the time to look at it or if it was his way of one-upping her. Again.

“You can go on with your high-and-mighty bullshit pretending you didn’t let a stranger pop your cherry without even getting his name first.”

The words were on a constant loop in her head. Somehow, what she’d done with him hadn’t felt dirty until he’d said those words out loud.

To make matters worse, things at Lux were getting complicated. For starters, the new uniform made her feel like a high-priced hooker. And she’d been right about having to wait on people from Maxwell. Luckily, none of them had recognized her.
Yet.

She’d been put behind the bar for most of her shift, and the bar manager, a pain in the ass with frequent ‘roid rages named Owen Bentley, was really struggling with the concept of keeping his hands to himself.

As if that weren’t enough to ruin her evening, on this particular Friday night, Dean Maxwell and his sidekick had strolled in. She was exhausted from the extra hours she’d been putting in with Gwen on perfecting the Insourcing Plan—ISP as they’d taken to calling it—and Owen was in a mood. One where he thought it would be fun to see how many times he could get her to lean into the cooler so he could check out her ass.

After the fourth time she caught him, she nearly threw a bottle of Amber Bock at his head. Asshole.

Why, for the love of God, was she neck-deep in assholes all the time? Her mama always said, “Ain’t no man you can’t have long as you can be what he wants.” Well, she was really and truly screwed, then. Trevor Harris and Dean Maxwell had both made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t capable of being what any man wanted. And she damn sure wasn’t going to be Owen’s free show to ogle.

“Hey, Owen, when you’re finished memorizing my ass, could you grab me a bottle of Johnnie Blue from the well? I’m all out up here.”

For a moment, his mouth gaped open, and then he twisted it into his trademark leer. “For you, sweet cheeks, anything.” He made sure his hand passed slowly over her backside as he slinked by.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten.
You need this job. You can’t pay for your mom’s rehab and survive without it
. After a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes. And wished she hadn’t.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean Maxwell was staring at her from the other side of the bar.

He’d obviously come straight from work, though his jacket was gone and so was his tie. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and his sleeves were rolled up, showing off those tan forearms she liked so much. The bar lights glinted off his chunky silver watch. For crap’s sakes, the man made
watches
sexy. She nearly dropped the bottle of vodka she was holding.

She licked her lips in an attempt to moisten her instantly dry mouth. “Workin’, Mr. Maxwell. Same as always. What can I get you?”

His eyes were filled with questions, but she didn’t have the strength or the energy to answer any of them.

She sighed and set the vodka down. “Seriously, I work here. A girl’s gotta live and New York ain’t cheap. Can I get you something, or should I check with my other customers while you locate your ability to speak?” She glanced down the bar at the full line of people waiting.

“You’re not making enough as an assistant director of marketing or what?” He leaned in and the lights shining on his handsome face played tricks on her. Was he concerned? Amused? Kind of looked like he was angry, though she couldn’t imagine why.

She huffed out a big breath and stepped closer so the only thing between them was the wooden bar. “I’m an
assistant to the
director, as you well know, and really, it’s none of your business.”

“It damn sure is my business. How can you do your real job if you’re out every night, prancing around half naked behind the bar till God knows when?”

The mental image of her leaping across the bar and throttling him was the only thing that kept her sane. “I can assure you, Mr. Maxwell, this job is as real as the one I do for you. And if you have a complaint about my
performance
, then we can discuss it Monday morning. Otherwise, order your drink so I can move on.”

“That’s enough flirting, sweetheart,” Owen called out from behind her. He slapped her so hard on the ass that she jumped. “Get back to work. Got a full boat out here.”

Tears of shame pricked her eyes. Of all the people from work to have to see her like this, of course it would be him. Of fucking course.

She turned to tell Owen to keep his hands off her, but she was nearly tackled as Dean Maxwell leapt over the bar and grabbed Owen with both hands. “You sorry son of a—”

“Fate, call security,
now
,” Owen commanded.

She just stared as Dean pressed the man up against glass racks. Both of them were bluish from the lights, and she was literally struck dumb by the abrupt turn of events.

“First, you apologize to her. Second, you keep your goddamn hands to yourself or I will have this whole fucking bar shut down.” Dean’s voice had taken on a low, growling tone she’d never heard him use before. Shivers ran up her spine hard and fast. She tried to ignore them so she could think straight.

“Dean, it’s okay. Jesus. Please let him go.” God, she’d just called her boss by his first name while he was pinning her other boss to the wall. She was certain she’d wake up tomorrow officially unemployed.
Great.
Her eyes began to fill at the thought. She ran over to step between the two angry men. “Seriously, he didn’t mean it. Please let him go.”

“The hell he didn’t.” Dean tightened his grip on Owen. “Apologize.”

“Sorry,
Dean.
Didn’t realize that particular piece of ass was already spoken for,” Owen sneered in his face. “Kind of funny she never mentioned having a boyfriend.”

She breathed a sigh of relief as Dean released him. Until he cocked his fist back and punched Owen square in the mouth. She flinched at the sickening sound of contact.

Even though she hadn’t called them, Dave and the other security guy whose name she didn’t know appeared behind the bar.

“Fate, you okay here?” Dave asked as the other guy headed for Dean.

“Um—”

“Who gives a shit if she’s okay? Her ass is fired. I want them both out of here. Now!” Owen was bleeding profusely from his mouth. Or his nose. She couldn’t tell. She was busy trying to hold up the walls of the world around her. And she was failing miserably.

“We’re going. Relax. We’re going,” Dean told the security guys as he shrugged them off and wrapped an arm around her waist.

She didn’t resist as he pulled her toward the exit. She didn’t even have the strength to lift the counter so they could get through. The man practically carrying her did.

“Where’s your purse?” he murmured from above her.

“Um, in my locker in the—”

“I’ll get it,” Dave said softly from behind them.

“Thank you.” Fate sniffled.

This was humiliating. She’d been minding her own business. He just kept showing up to ruin everything. Well, okay, the first time he’d ever shown up, he hadn’t ruined anything. Except her virginity. But she was surprisingly okay with that.

Once they were outside in the cool evening air, he let her go. So she turned around and shoved him. Hard.

“What happened to not pretending to know everything about each other? Huh?” She shoved him again. The tears she’d held at bay—for…hell, for forever—came hot and wet down her face. “I needed that job, you ass!”

“Hey, shh. Calm down.” He wrapped his thick arms around her. She twisted in his arms in an attempt to break free, but he wouldn’t let go. “Listen, calm down and I’ll let you go.”

“You do not own me. Just because we…did what we did doesn’t mean you can go around behaving this way. What the hell is wrong with you?” she whimpered against his chest, knowing she was getting snot and tears all over his expensive shirt.
Good.
For a second, she considered kneeing him in the balls, but that was the one part of his anatomy she actually liked.

“I don’t know,” he whispered quietly. The deep timbre of his voice made his chest vibrate against her. She was freezing her ass off in her sorry excuse for a dress and he was so warm.

She didn’t even look up as she heard Dave hand Dean her purse. She still didn’t so much as glance up when he pulled her into a cab. It made no sense to be cuddled up to the man who’d just cost her a job she needed. But it felt too good to move. She did look up, however, when he gave the cab driver an address that wasn’t hers.

“Where are we going?”

He relaxed his grip on her just long enough to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. “My place. That okay?”

“Um, Gwen will be worried if I don’t—”

“Gwen’s probably not going to be home tonight. Keaton just left to meet up with her… They really hit it off I guess.”

“So much for that ‘no intracompany dating’ policy.”