The Boss (The Boss 1)

“Truthfully, it wasn’t that bad. They do hand out painkillers like candy here. But I was thinking, on the ride home...” He paused, his gaze flicking briefly to my face, then down again. “I want you to consider Gabriella’s offer.”

“I couldn’t work with them. They’re a bunch of assholes.” I tried to laugh, but my stomach was still in knots. Every time I finished a sentence, I had a moment of panic, thinking, Did I just tell him I’m pregnant?

If he knew right now, he would want to give me money or some other job in his company. I didn’t want either. Besides, the man was already hospitalized, he didn’t need more stress.

“Those assholes are going to build an empire. You can’t miss out on this chance.” His quiet intensity set me on alert. He might have been drugged, but he’d obviously put some clearheaded thought into this.

“Well...” I began cautiously. “Gabriella told me I don’t get the job if I’m involved with you, so...”

He still couldn’t meet my eyes. “Then it might be for the best if we’re not involved with each other.”

The pain and disappointment hit me first, starting as a squeezing ache in my chest and ringing in my ears. I seriously wondered if it were possible I was having some pregnancy-related heart condition. And even though I’d heard him, I still uttered a hoarse, shocked, “What?”

“I don’t want to be the man who ruins your life.” His voice was thick with held back emotion. “I love you too much to let something so important pass you by.”

“You’re on drugs. Maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation right now,” I said, pulling my hand back.

“I’m not that drugged.” He made a noise of disgust. “Well, I am that drugged, but truth be told, I made this decision before I ever came to the restaurant, before I knew about Gabriella’s stupid proclamation. Being with me while working for her is only going to complicate things for you.”

“Neil, I’m not going to work for Gabriella. I don’t even want to—”

He cut me off. “Listen to yourself. This is Tokyo all over again. You have a life changing opportunity in front of you, but you’re making the easy choice.”

“This is nothing like Tokyo,” I whispered, the vise grip feeling in my chest tightening down hard. “I was a stupid kid then, making a dumb choice for emotional reasons.”

He didn’t say anything.

Oh god. That was how Neil saw me: a stupid twenty-something who was making a bad, emotionally driven choice without thinking of the consequences.

He didn’t trust me enough to make up my own mind.

“You told me that working for Gabriella was unhealthy,” I reminded him through my painfully tight jaw. “You were furious at the thought I would throw you over to work for her.”

“That was when I thought you were going to be offered a job as an assistant. Assistant creative director is… you might have worked at Porteras for fifteen years without reaching that position.” His voice broke a little as he continued, “Your career matters too much to you. I can’t stand by while you miss this chance.”

I stared at him, willing him to look up, to see the tears already spilling down my cheeks. “I can’t believe this.”

“Sophie, please—”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again!” I knew I probably shouldn’t raise my voice because of the other patients, but I couldn’t help it. What the fuck was going to happen now? Did I tell him about the pregnancy? Did I just go on my merry way and deal with it all on my own? Here he was, basically telling me to break up with him over a job, and I was incubating a fetus he helped make. So much for not being in this alone. “What is wrong with you?”

“Everything is exactly the same as it was six years ago.” He was so calm, so maddeningly calm. “I’m watching you, about to make a huge mistake, and what can I do besides leave to prevent you from making it?”

“You’ve never prevented me from doing a damn thing. You just don’t want to feel responsible for my choices.” I shook my head in disgust. “And you talk about me having a problem admitting things. You’re willing to run away because you don’t want to feel guilty.”

“That’s not fair!” he snapped. “Look at me, Sophie. I’m a middle-aged man in a fucking hospital bed. What if I’d had a heart attack and died? What if I’d had a stroke and been paralyzed? Would you really want to be tied to me for the rest of my life? Caring for me while I was sick or dying?”

“Oh for fucks sake, you’re not ninety. You’re in your forties!” Had they given him a handful of overreaction pills along with the painkillers? “What ‘rest of your life?’ We’re not married, we’re dating.”