Dirty Boss (Dirty Rich 2)

My eyes catch Nick's. There's so much frustration in them.

I can't stay here, desperate to comfort him. I need to get away now before I'm in too deep.

I take a step towards my desk. My heels are not helping my back feel better. I'm not supposed to wear heels, but I get tired of not being allowed to do things.

I grab my coat and go straight to the elevator.

Its doors open with a ding.

"Lizzy, wait." Nick takes a step towards me.

Not happening. I get into the elevator and press the "close" button. Mercifully, the doors slide together just in time.

I grab onto the railing, leaning into the wall to rest my back. It's getting worse by the second.

Ten blocks to my apartment. They're city blocks. Short.

A deep breath does nothing to dampen the pain. It's already bad. It's going to be a full-blown spasm soon. I brace myself for a miserable night.

The elevator dings at the lobby. Every step on the tile floor is hard. The concrete is worse. I only make it one block before I'm resting against the side of a building.

Nine more blocks. I can manage that.

Once the chill sinks through my coat, I push myself off the wall.

Every step hurts more than the last. The knot clenches until it hurts so badly I can't breathe. I know I've been careless, but did my back really have to pick today to give up?

I slink to the ground and pull my knees into my chest. The stretch helps, but not enough. Tears sting my eyes. It hurts. Everything hurts.

There are footsteps. No doubt someone thinks I'm passed out from too many drinks. This is a nice neighborhood but it's still New York City. It's not safe being so defenseless.

I go to look up at the footsteps but my neck tugs. It hurts too much.

"Lizzy."

It's Nick.

He came after me.

His brother is trying to take away his company. He won't tell me the truth about anything until his hand is forced. There's all this pain in his eyes that he's desperate to keep to himself.

But he came after me.

Again, my back tenses. Shocks of pain bring tears to my eyes. I'll worry about Nick's intentions later. Right now, I don't have a choice but to accept his help.

Whatever that means.

He kneels next to me, no doubt dragging his several-thousand-dollar suit through a puddle. His fingertips skim my chin. "Your back?"

"Yes." His touch is comforting. I'm desperate to close my eyes and drink in everything about it.

"Do you keep muscle relaxants with you?"

"No. And I don't have any at home. Just a heating pad and a bottle of ibuprofen."

"I'm going to take you back to my apartment." He peels my hands from my knees and slides one arm under my legs. "I can carry you the twenty blocks, but it will take a while."

Fuck.

"There's a cab waiting." He slides his other arm around my back, pulling my body into his, cradling me against him. "Is that okay?"

I bite my lip, trying to argue myself out of my fear. I managed Saturday but only barely.

Of course it's not okay.

But I don't have much of a choice.

I cling to Nick, digging my nails into the fabric of his suit. I can smell that same cologne. I can feel all the warmth of his body.

There's no way I can survive twenty blocks cradled in his arms. My heart will explode.

I exhale slowly. "It's okay."

How the hell am I supposed to survive the drive?

How the hell am I supposed to survive falling in love with him?

Chapter Seventeen

My back is still murder and I have to get into a car.

It's easier in Nick's arms but easier isn't enough to keep tears from rolling down my cheeks.

Nick carries me ten or fifteen feet. He's careful about setting me back on the ground.

My feet make contact, but I'm not really standing upright. I'm pressed against him. The cab is parked on the street, two feet away. Same yellow color as always. Same white sign on its roof.

I reach for the car door and pull it open with a weak grip.

It's only five minutes. It can't be that bad.

The lie only makes my backache worse. It's like my muscles know they're confronting the source of their pain.

I lean down just enough to slide into the car.

Nick sits next to me, reaching over me to buckle my seat belt. He holds me against his chest, running his fingertips over the back of my neck.

"It's going to be okay," he whispers.

I don't do anything but breathe. Even that is hard. Every inhale strains against my tight muscles.

My eyelids press together. I pretend as if I'm anywhere else. At some point I should get a handle on my fear, but not today.

Nick gives his address to the cabbie. He holds me close, stroking my skin with that same gentle touch. "I'm sorry about Shepard. He has this idea that Jasmine left him for me."

"Did she?"

"No. She left because he wouldn't stop drinking. She's a lovely woman, but I have no interest in her." Nick presses his fingers against my neck like he's taking my pulse. "There are lots of reasons why he could want to hurt me. Or it could be he needs the money for some other project. I have no idea what his intentions are."

His body tenses. That must mean that my pulse is totally erratic. It certainly feels like my heart is beating hard enough to jump out of my chest.

"Lizzy." His tone changes, more like everything is okay. "When is your sister getting married?"

An easy thing to talk about. Perfect. "April. At the Brooklyn Botanicals Gardens. She has a thing for cherry blossom trees. I guess it's a family obsession. Our parents always loved them. We went to DC every year until—" Until that car crash took away everything.

It's not easy to talk anymore.

It's not easy to breathe.

Nick's voice stays calm. "Does she know about your tattoo?"

"No, she'd die. I went with my friend, Sarah. The one with the hot-pink dress."

"What happens if you go to the beach?"

"Don't you keep up the styles, Nick? Retro is in. I wear a halter one-piece or a longline that covers it."

"I'd like to see that." He runs his fingers over my neck. "Though I'd prefer to take it off."

My cheeks flush. It's a very effective distraction. I barely notice when the cabbie slams on the breaks again.

There's another car about three inches in front of us but it's a normal red light.

"Are you in the wedding party?" Nick holds me close.

"Maid of honor. I am the only bridesmaid, but I'm sure I'd be maid of honor even if there was any competition. She's not exactly a social butterfly. She mostly stays home to draw or read."

"What does she read?"

"Stuff about angst and feelings. I tried to get her into shonen manga, but says she doesn't care about things aimed at fourteen-year-old boys. The one time we read one together, she pointed out all the anatomical mistakes."

"You love her a lot."

"Of course. She's my best friend. I'd do anything for her." I take a deep breath. It's not quite as difficult. "Why does your brother hate you so much?"

"We'll talk about it later." He runs his hands through my hair. "I want to know what makes you happy."

"I like to get lost in the city. There's so much possibility here. You go one mile and everything is different."

"What else?"

"I like to move." I let out a very painful laugh. "Not at the moment, but usually."

I keep my eyes closed, my head buried against his chest. Despite my throbbing back, I'm managing to breathe okay.

Not great but okay.

The quiet brings my mind back to that awful morning. The brakes skidding, the screech of the metal, that moment when everything went white.

"What would you do if you weren't studying computer science?" he asks.

"I didn't love working retail, but I like fashion, the w

ay clothes can transform someone from a femme fatale to an innocent librarian. What about you?"

"There's nothing else I want to do."

"Except swimming and poker and mysteries."

"Yes."

"Law & Order?"

"Yes." His voice is shy. "Though it's not my favorite."

"Can you believe I've lived in New York for my whole life and never stumbled on a dead body? I need to work on my snappy banter."

He laughs. "You really are charming, Lizzy."

"What if I had found a dead body? Would that be more charming?"

He lets out a sigh of pleasure.

I blink my eyes open, very much aware that I'm in a horrible automobile. It feels like the city is whirring by us even though we're only going thirty miles an hour.

"I would like to teach you to drive," he says. "One day. When you're ready."

No way in hell. My pulse picks up. I'm not sure if he's testing me or if he's earnest, and I don't care. I only want to think about something else.

I dig my hands into the soft fabric of Nick's suit jacket. At this point, it's familiar. There's something so calming about that.

The car slows. I blink my eyes open. Almost there. I sit up as straight as my back will allow. Turns out that's curled like a question mark.

We stop in front of Nick's building. He pays the cabbie and helps me out of the car. One arm goes around my waist, the other around my knees. He carries me into the building, then the elevator.

I'm sure we're making a scene, but I can't bring myself to care. I hook one arm around his neck and hold on as tightly as I can.

In his apartment, Nick lays me down on the couch.