The Billionaire Boss Next Door

I know I should be able to separate professional and personal feelings and actions like Trent apparently can, but work has been my personal life for the past five years.

I’ve given my firm everything I can, and an attack on my work feels like an attack on me.

We’ll be here again, I’m sure of it, and I don’t know that I can keep squashing down the way it makes me feel, which, ironically, is small.

I’m a block from the hotel when my phone rings with an incoming call. I dig it out of my sixty-five-pound purse by the very end of Paula Abdul’s “Straight Up”—my ringtone—and don’t even get a chance to check the ID before answering.

“Well, helloooo, avoiding whore formerly known as my friend.”

“Emory—”

“Wow, I’m surprised you even remember my name.”

“I’ve been busy!”

“Busy avoiding me,” she sneers.

“To be fair, I’ve been avoiding everyone.”

“I know. Your brother told me you haven’t had dinner with them since January.”

“You talked to my brother about me?”

“I’ve talked to five Catholic priests, two strangers, and a shop clerk at Bergdorf’s about you. Of course, I’ve talked to your brother.”

“Look, now isn’t a good time. I’m about to walk into the hotel—”

“Oh, good. At least you’re done avoiding that.”

Emory’s attitude rubs, and I get fed up. “You know what? You don’t even know what’s going on. Maybe I’m avoiding everything for a reason, ever think of that?”

“Duh,” she snaps. “Maybe your best friend can tell something is going on with you, and I don’t know, thought you would come to her with your problems instead of trying to deal with them yourself like a douchecanoe.” She laughs derisively. “Maybe. Just a thought.”

“Emory…”

“Yeah?”

I close my eyes tight and say words I’m not very good at saying. I don’t like to apologize for how I am—for who I am—and a lot of the time, that means I avoid the practice altogether. But sometimes, you wrong someone, maybe someone you love, and you’ve got to make it right. “I’m sorry.”

She huffs. “You should be. But also, it’s okay. I love you, and I’m well aware you have issues.”

“Gee, thanks.”

We’re both silent for several moments, and then she heaves a heavy sigh. “I guess your silence means you’re still not ready to share with me?”

“I will. I promise. I just…can’t get into it now. I just have to focus on moving forward.”

“Oh, great. Just sweep whatever it is under the rug,” she grumbles. “Sounds like a great idea.”

“Shut up,” I say with a laugh. “I’m not sweeping it under the rug.”

“Yes, you are, but okay. Tell yourself whatever you want. I’ll be here when you figure out what a terrible idea it was.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes to the sky. It doesn’t matter that she can’t see me. “Thanks. I’ll keep my finger on speed dial.”

“Greer,” she calls out before I can hang up.

“What?”

“Call me when you need me.”

“Thanks, E.” My voice is soft and sincere, just like hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She laughs. “Now get in there and fuck some shit up. I want this story to be really interesting when I finally hear it.”

“Oh, it will be,” I say. “One for the grandkids. Which will be yours, of course, as I’ll be living alone with nothing but my TV and pizza bagels to keep me company.”

“I’ll get you a fish.”

“No,” I stress. “No pets. Only carbs and the Kardashians.”

“Is carbs spelled with a C or a K?” she asks.

“With a K,” I tease. “Cs won’t exist anymore by then as the Kardashians will probably have taken over the world. They’ll rule us from their cryogenic chambers.”

“I’m hanging up now. This has gone to a place I don’t like.”

After a quick goodbye, I drop my phone into my purse and finally make it the rest of the way to the hotel.

It juts up into the pink and purple sunset-filled sky and dares me to come inside. Even though I want to run, I take a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other.

I find George working in the lobby when I walk in.

After checking to see that I’m not one of the walking dead, he gives me a welcome-back hug and points me in the direction of Trent up on the ninth floor.

I groan.

It’s days like today when I realize how desperately we need them to hurry up and complete the elevator install, Shape magazine and its heart health tips be damned.

By the time I make it up all nine flights, I’ve got my heels in my hand and my hair up in a ponytail to control the neck sweat.

There’s nothing I can do for the cracks of my cleavage and ass, but if everything goes to plan, no one should be able to notice that.

I shove open the stairwell door and stumble into the hall…and right into Trent.