Dirty Boss (Dirty Rich 2)

"I'll make you pancakes."

"Won't Blake freak about the mess?"

"Let him." She slides into the seat next to me and looks me over like she's inspecting a torn painting. "There's more going on. You can tell me."

"It's the only decision that makes sense." I play with the bottom of my cocktail dress.

"Feelings aren't logical."

"No, but decisions should be."

"Lizzy—"

"I've made up my mind. Now make me pancakes if you want me to forgive you for invading my privacy."

She frowns but gathers a bowl and flour.

I give Kat a few minutes to get started, but she has no idea what she's doing.

I take over the process, measuring, stirring, and flipping until my entire world is pancakes.

I'm almost finished when the intercom buzzes.

Kat excuses herself to answer. "Yes."

The doorman speaks. "Katrina, there's a Mr. Marlowe here to see Miss Elizabeth Wilder about a personal matter."

I can't breathe.

Not now. Not here. Not yet.

She turns to me. "Do you want me to let him in?"

I turn off the stove and take a deep breath to collect my senses. There's no way to stop this. Maybe it's better to get it over with, so it's not hanging over my head all day.

I nod. "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Worry flashes over her face, but she turns back to the intercom. "Let him up. But give us two minutes first."

"Of course, Ms. Wilder."

She unlocks the door and makes her way to the kitchen. Her eyes bore into me, examining me the way she examines something she's going to draw.

"You know, if you do love him, you might be able to work this out. Whatever it is," she says.

"I made my decision."

"You look like you're going to cry."

"I have to do this!" I bite my tongue. I can't get upset. That will bring questions, from Nick or from Kat or both. I have to convince them that I'm okay with this.

My stomach twists. It must be the hangover. I tear a pancake in half and stuff it into my mouth. It's perfect. Fluffy and slightly sweet with a warm burst of blueberries.

"Do you want me to go?" she asks.

"You can stay on the couch."

There's a knock on the door. My chest tightens. The room goes cold. I'm not sure I can do this.

Kat answers the door with a polite handshake hello. Nick is ragged. He's still handsome and well-dressed—jeans and a sweater today—but his eyes are tired and he's at least two days without a shave.

He'll be happy soon.

He'll have the company back, and he'll forget about me, and he'll be happy.

That's what I want.

A tear forms in my eye. I wipe it away. I'm not crying. Not yet.

He comes closer, until there are only three feet between us. "Lizzy, what happened?"

"Nothing. I went out dancing with Sarah. I guess I was a little drunk. Just one of those drunk phone calls."

His brow furrows. His eyes fill with doubt. He's not buying this story.

I step back. "It's good you're here though. I have to talk to you about something."

He moves closer. Until he's six inches away. His fingertips slide over the side of my cheek. My body fills with warmth. God, he feels good. I fight my desire to wrap my arms around him. That will only make this harder.

"You've been crying." His voice is soft.

"It's just a hangover."

"You're a terrible liar." He wipes a tear from my eye. "Tell me what's wrong, baby. We can fix it together."

I shake my head.

"We can."

"No, we can't."

"Lizzy—"

I step back, breaking from his touch. At once, I'm cold. My back tenses. My stomach churns.

"Did you come here because you thought I'd come looking for you at your apartment?"

"Did you?"

"Yes." He stares into my eyes. "What happened?"

"I realized something."

Dread spreads over his face.

I want so badly to wipe it away. I want to run my hands through his hair, to wrap my body around his, to soothe him today, and tomorrow, and every day, forever.

But this is the way I can make him happy.

The only way.

I stare back at Nick. "I think we should. No, there's no think, no should." I gather every ounce of strength in my body. "I'm breaking up with you."

Kat jumps towards the bedroom. "I'll give you guys a minute. Sorry." She slams the door shut on her way out of the room.

Nick moves closer. His hands go to my lower back and he pulls my body into his. "Tell me you don't feel something right now." He leans down and presses his lips against mine.

God, how I feel something. I feel everything.

I step back. "I care about you, Nick. That isn't the problem."

"Then what is?"

"Your life is full. You have your company. That's your priority. That's what makes you happy. There's no room for anyone or anything else. And I have a lot on my plate too. Figuring out what I'm doing with school. This relationship was never going to work. It's better if we end it now."

His eyes fill with sadness. "You don't believe that."

"Yes, I do." I try to convince myself. I make my voice as loud and confident as possible. "You'll be happier when you can focus on your work."

"And what about your internship?"

"If it's still there after this sale stuff settles down... I'll ask another one of the programmers to teach me."

"None of them know AI like I do."

"I know." I bite my tongue so I can focus on how much that hurts instead of how much my heart hurts. "I'll find another internship."

His eyes go to the floor. "Is there any way I can change your mind?"

I rack my brain for something, some bone I can throw him so that he can fix this.

Nothing comes.

"You have your priorities," I say. "I have mine."

He steps back. "I respect your decision." His eyes meet mine. He opens his mouth like he's going to speak, but he says nothing.

"I'll walk you out." I press my hands to my sides so I won't be tempted to touch him.

Nick waits until we're at the elevator to speak. He turns to me, his eyes wide with something I don't recognize.

His voice is soft. "This could be forever."

The elevator doors slide open. He steps inside, his eyes on the floor.

"But if this is what you want—" his eyes bore into mine "—I do trust you."

The doors slide shut.

Nick is gone.

I make it all the way to the spare room before I curl into a ball and cry.

Chapter Thirty-One

Kat brings me coffee and breakfast. "Do you want to talk?"

I shake my head and stuff my face with pancakes.

She sits with me until I finish my brunch, then she takes the plates and makes herself scarce.

I lie in bed with my laptop, watching the first season of Battlestar Galactica in

an attempt to think about anything besides Nick. My eyes are tired. I drift in and out of sleep. It's not even a little bit restful.

Mid-afternoon, an email grabs my attention. From Phoenix Marlowe, to the entire Odyssey team. We're off Monday and Tuesday. The sale is still in the air. He'll have final word first thing Wednesday.

That's two days to breathe before I have to see Nick.

Maybe it's enough.

A little after seven, Kat drags me to the living room for dinner. It's something she made herself—pasta with meat sauce and a giant bowl of green salad.

I sit at the table with her and Blake, stabbing my food with my fork and not at all paying attention to the conversation.

When we're finished, I clear the plates and wash the dishes. The scalding water barely makes an impression. I know it's hot, but I'm too numb to feel it.

Kat settles in front of the TV with her sketchbook, half watching a teen soap, half drawing. She pats the spot next to her. I look to Blake for some sign I'm encroaching on his turf.

He slides out of his seat. "I'm going to put in a few hours of work." He goes to the couch to plant a kiss on Kat's lips. "There's a lot to do before the wedding."

She beams. "I love you."

"I love you too."

It's sweet enough to make me sick. I raid the fridge for something to counter the bile rising in my throat. Coffee ice cream. Perfect.

"You want dessert?" I ask no one in particular.

"Sure." Kat kisses Blake again. "None for Blake. He can't get his desk dirty."

He smiles that devious this is really about sex smile. It's been over a year since they met, and they still look at each other like they can't wait to tear each other's clothes off.

It's sweet.

But gross too. I don't need details on my sister's sex life.

I focus on scooping ice cream. Once Kat and Blake are finished with their long goodnight, I make my way to the couch and hand my sister her mug.

The dessert is cold and creamy, but it has no taste. Nothing about it makes me feel good.

Kat sets her half-eaten treat on the coffee table and slides her arm around my shoulder. "You're growing up. You don't tell me everything anymore."

"I haven't told you everything for a long time."

"Still." She glances at the screen. "I'm getting married. You'll go back to Stanford. We'll have our own lives."