Dirty Boss (Dirty Rich 2)

"You're not going to forgive yourself if you sacrifice this opportunity." He releases his grip on my waist and goes to shut and lock the balcony door. "And I'm not going to forgive myself if you give up your career for me. I don't do relationships. You really want to throw away your future to fuck me again?"

I turn to face him. There's nothing but grey sky and steel buildings behind him. It's so fucking fitting.

"What if I did?" I ask.

"That's not the girl I met last September. Or the girl I met yesterday."

"Maybe you don't know anything about me."

"Do you really believe that?" His eyes bore into me.

He is trying to protect me. But from what? He owns the company. He can make whatever rules he wants.

He can fuck me and work with me.

"It's your company," I say. "Can't you change the rules?"

"Yes, but I won't."

"Why?"

"I stay in control of my life."

He's still looking at me like he's fixed on protecting me. It's sweet... but annoying. I take care of myself. I don't need his help.

Even if I want him tearing off my clothes.

Dammit, working with him is going to be impossible.

He steps closer. "There were two dozen excellent bots in your portfolio. They were smart, adaptable. You must have spent months trying to figure out that Go AI."

"It's terrible."

"Go is considered un-crackable. I've seen worse attempts from programmers with fifteen years of experience." He holds my gaze. "You love artificial intelligence, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Me too. The last five years of my life have been about this project. You won't find a better place to learn. And you won't be satisfied interning somewhere else. You'll be a code monkey."

"Monkeys are cute. You should see the monkey keychain on my purple Kipling bag. It's adorable." I fold my arms. He's right. Most internships are grunt work. Most advanced AI projects are only accessible to PhDs. This is the best chance I'll ever get to learn about programming artificial intelligence.

"Pretend that night never happened. Archive it away in your memory."

Anger rises in my gut, pushing away my logic. I stare back at him. "Where? In my spank bank?"

"If you'd like."

I examine his expression for any sign of emotion. Nothing. "Is that what you did?" I see red. "Do you think about that night, about me, when you fuck yourself?"

His expression cracks. Finally. His lips turn down. His eyes fill with frustration. He's upset.

I should feel victorious, but I don't.

"I don't care about many people, Lizzy. That night meant a lot to me."

I swallow hard. "Then why are you treating me like this?"

"What matters more to you—proving that I want you or learning about AI?" he asks.

"Why do I have to choose?"

"You win. I want you. I want you in my bed, under my control, screaming my name as you come." He stares at me. "Do you feel better?"

"No."

His voice gets stern. "I want you working at Odyssey, but I will fire you if you push me."

I swallow hard. "Do you think about that night?"

"Yes."

"When you fuck yourself?"

"Often."

His voice is dripping with confidence. He thinks of me often? Suddenly, this coat is far too heavy. I'm burning up.

He thinks about me when he fucks himself.

How am I supposed to resist him, knowing that?

His voice softens. "Mostly, I think about our conversation." He crosses towards the door, motioning for me to follow. "As far as I'm concerned, I met a woman named Marie and never saw her again. Do you understand me?"

"I'm not a child. Don't patronize me." I understand. I've got to pretend that we never shared anything. It may as well have been a different guy that night.

Only, the Nick in front of me—the hurt in his eyes, the strength in his posture, the determination in his voice—is exactly the guy I met last year.

It's not like I work with him directly. I can avoid Nick at the office enough to pretend.

I take one more look at the apartment. That white winter light is beautiful, especially bouncing off the shiny hardwood floor. It will be my space. All mine.

"Thank you for the apartment," I say. "It's beautiful."

"It's not from me. It's a company apartment."

"Only technically."

He doesn't correct me. Once again, winning doesn't make me feel better.

I only feel empty.

Nick wants me.

He thinks about me when he fucks himself.

He's paying for my apartment.

He's fixed on protecting me.

But I can't have him.

The facts don't add up. There's something missing, something he's not telling me.

Judging from the stern expression in his eyes, he's not going to explain. I have to accept things.

Nick pulls the door open for me. "I'll have someone from my team pack up your stuff at Stanford. It may take a few weeks to clear it with the school."

"I have enough for a few weeks."

We make our way to the elevator. Then to the street. To the subway station.

Nick nods goodbye. "Your apartment should be ready by the end of next week. If there's anything specific you need—" He pulls a business card from his pocket. "My personal number."

I stare at the business card, confused.

This doesn't make sense. If we're keeping things professional, what do I need with his personal number?

He thinks about me when he fucks himself.

I'm never going to concentrate on anything else again.

Chapter Five

Friday passes without a single Nick sighting. He's locked in his office, all by himself.

I leave a few minutes after five. A familiar voice greets me in the lobby. It starts as a girlish shriek.

"Your dress is so pretty!" Kat throws her arms around me. "I can't believe how grown up you look. I'm going to cry."

"You'll embarrass me."

"Someone has to do it." She pulls her cell phone from her pocket and snaps a picture. "You want coffee? You look tired."

"How rude are you?" I take in all the slight changes in her appearance. "You're super tan."

She shrugs, her sun-lightened hair falling off her shoulders. I get a warm, gooey feeling in my chest. My sister is so much happier than she was last year. And she's close again.

No more pretending to laugh at Adam Sandler movies with my ex-roommate. No more pangs of loneliness from being three thousand miles away. My sister, my best friend, is back.

&nb

sp; I squeeze her again for good measure. "As long as it's on me."

"Are you really getting a two-thousand-dollar-a -month honorarium?"

"And an apartment."

"What?" She hugs her purse. "The company is providing an apartment? But don't you want to stay with me and Blake?"

No way I'm going to continue being a burden to her. "You really want me around every night when it's time to ride your fiancé?"

"You're depraved."

"Thanks." I take Kat's hand and lead us to the street. "He drop you off on his way into the office?"

"He was really good about avoiding work all vacation." Her gaze shifts to the sky. "I know you don't like him—"

"It's not exactly that I don't like him." I don't. But it's more that I don't trust him with her heart. He nearly destroyed her last year.

"Whatever it is, I love him, and I trust him with everything. If you have any qualms about that, let's deal with them now. The wedding is barely three months away."

We cross the street. The local coffee shop glows like a beacon of energy.

I wait until we're inside the blissfully warm shop to turn to Kat. "Are you happy?"

She beams, her eyes all goo-goo, ga-ga in love. She nods.

"Then I am happy." I whisper in her ear. "But if he does anything to hurt you, I will throw him off that gorgeous balcony."

"How are you going to overpower Blake?"

"First, I'll drug him—"

"Where do you come up with this?"

"Law & Order." After the accident, we watched a lot of reruns. Law & Order was one of our favorites.

She tilts her head like she's weighing my idea as a potential procedural plot. "What's the snappy one-liner when Briscoe investigates the scene?"

I do my best Jerry Orbach/Lennie Briscoe imitation. "Talk about a fall from grace."

Kat cracks up. She buckles, one hand going to her mouth, the other to her stomach. "Oh my God. That's perfect. I'm so glad you're back in New York."

"Me too."

We order our drinks and wait at the counter. She leans against it, dreamily staring out the window in one of her I'm looking at the world with my magical artist powers moments.

"Drawing a comic in your head?" I ask.

"Sorta."