Dirty Boss (Dirty Rich 2)

"Thanks for breakfast." I draw a question mark on my eggs with the hot sauce then stir them quickly enough he won't see.

"Thank you for the coffee." He looks out to the river, staring like he's deep in thought. "The truth is I don't know why Shepard is trying to sell the company. But he has every reason to hate me."

I take a bite, chewing slowly to buy myself time to think. My brain isn't working too well with the lack of sleep.

"He's always coped with excess. Drinking before Jasmine left him. Other women once she was gone. For a while he was high-functioning, but last September, I forced him into rehab."

"You can't force someone into rehab."

"I used some fine print in the Odyssey contract. He didn't want to go, but he knew how much Odyssey could be worth. He wasn't about to lose that."

"That was the problem you handled the night we met?"

"Yes. I shouldn't have started a company with my brother. Too personal. But he was good with business. Too good, actually. Our main investor is wrapped around his finger."

"Oh."

"Shepard got out of rehab last month. We didn't talk while he was in treatment. His counselor specifically asked me not to visit."

"Is that the usual policy or just for you?"

"For me."

I swallow hard.

"It would have got in the way of his treatment." Nick looks at the table. "He drank to forget his demons. Once he stopped, they came back full force."

I don't like where this is going. I take a long sip of coffee to wet my throat, but it's not any easier to talk. "Remembered what?"

"Our father left when I was about ten. My mother was broken. When she met our stepfather, it was like she came alive again. She was happy. I didn't know much about love, but I knew that she was in love with him."

I play with the handle of my mug.

"I was fourteen when they married. Shepard was eleven. He graduated high school early and did college in three years. He's only twenty-four." Nick focuses on the table. "Our stepfather, he was kind at first. My mother was so happy he took an interest. But there was too much interest. I should have realized."

Oh God. He needs to be in control. He doesn't trust anyone. It must be...

I don't want it to be true.

I offer Nick my hand. He doesn't take it. He's half here, half in that memory.

He forces the words out. "I was fifteen the first time he touched me. I wrote it off as him being drunk, confused, but he kept doing it."

My stomach drops. I reach for him. Even though his eyes are on the floor, he pulls away. Like it's a reflex.

"I was as strong as he was. I could have stopped him. I could have killed him. But even so, I was scared of him." Nick clenches his fist. "I didn't say anything. I thought that was better. It would have destroyed my mother."

I force myself not to use a euphemism. "He raped you?"

Nick nods.

I can't breathe. I bite my tongue. When people hear about my accident, they say all sorts of stupid things. I won't do that to Nick.

"I'm sorry you went through that." I fold my hands in my lap. "Is there... what happened with your brother?"

"I thought I could protect Shepard if I stayed home, but I was wrong. My brother, he was so ashamed he never told anyone. I caught him. I went to the police, but it was too late. Shep was never the same." His eyes fill with sadness.

"You're not the one who hurt your brother. It's not your fault."

"I let that monster stay in our house."

I move closer. Touching him might startle him, so I offer my hand. This time, he takes it and squeezes hard.

"I'm so sorry, Nick. No one should ever have to go through that."

"I could have protected him."

"He blames you?"

"It was my fault."

My heart breaks for him. He really believes it was his fault. No wonder he walks around like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

I bring my other hand to his arm, brushing lightly against it to test his response.

He leans in to my touch instead of flinching.

I move closer. I run my fingers over his arm, his neck, his hair. I have to comfort him the way he comforted me.

I have to help him.

It's the only thing in the world I know.

We stay like that for the better part of an hour. When we break, Nick plants a soft kiss on my lips.

He stares into my eyes. "I was in therapy a long time, but I still—"

"It's okay. I don't have to touch you."

"I want you to. I don't want that to have been the last time someone—"

"You've gone, what, eight years without a woman touching you?"

"More or less." He runs his fingertips over my cheek. "It will have to be on my terms."

I nod. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze tight. "This isn't casual anymore, is it?"

"No, it's not."

I squeeze tighter. I need to make him feel better and there's only one way to do it with words. "You think we're at business casual or all the way at black tie?"

His laugh breaks up the tension in the room. "Thank you. I needed that."

It makes me warm, his laugh. Even with all this darkness around us, it makes the world feel light.

Chapter Twenty

Nick leaves for work around seven. He arranges a house call. I wait dutifully in front of the TV, all of my attention on Nick's past and none of it on the screen.

He's suffered deeply. Maybe he doesn't have to hurt that much anymore.

I don't know what it means to be more than casual. I've never been serious with anyone, never been in love. But there's something about Nick. Every molecule in my body wants to be around him, wants him to be happy.

The doctor arrives around ten. He checks my vitals, asks me to perform all sorts of exercises, and writes a prescription for more physical therapy.

There's a change of clothes for me in the bedroom. Jeans, a sweater, flat boots, wool socks. I have no clue how Nick got these here so fast. Or when. But they're perfect.

I have plans to meet Kat for lunch-break dress shopping. I change into my new outfit and hightail it to the pastel pink boutique.

I'm ten minutes early, so I sit on one of the benches and pore over Kat's list of sample dresses on my phone. Only two are decent. The rest are totally wrong for her.

"That is one serious hickey." Kat slides her arm around me in a sideways hug then turns to face me. "And those don't look like work clothes."

"You know you're supposed to buy a wedding dress six months before the day. You're going to have to buy something off the rack."

"I'll manage." She moves my hair to inspect my neck. "I can't remember the last time you had a hickey. Had to be Robert. Whatever happened to him?"

"We broke up after the accident."

"Oh yeah. What a jerk." She slides her purse off her shoulders to take off her coat. "You want to get coffee before we start looking?"

"I always want to get coffee, but we'll stain the dresses." I push myself to my feet and find the sales counter.

"You want to tell me how you got that love mark?"

"A man used his mouth to apply pressure to my neck. I'm

sure you and Blake have tried it, but if not, I can explain the process step by step."

The salesgirl waves at us, clearly taking her dear time making her way to the counter. Kat's eyes are laser-focused on me like I need protection.

"Elizabeth Marie Wilder." Kat taps her toe. "You have something to fess up. I can tell."

Mercifully, the salesgirl steps up to the counter.

"We're here for a one o'clock appointment. She wants something with sleeves, lots of lace, no train. Mermaid, a-line, or sheath. It's a garden wedding, so simple." I turn back to Kat with a smile. "I had sex last night. Do you want any additional information?"

The salesgirl does nothing to hide her eavesdropping. "Right this way, Miss Wilder." She looks at me. "Are you the maid of honor?"

"Yes." I follow her to the left side of the store.

"We have a great selection of bridesmaid dresses in the back of the store." She points to a rack of dresses in every color of the rainbow then to the rack of dresses in every shade of ivory. "These are a great independent label. There are more designers as you go clockwise." She hands Kat a dozen clothespins. "If you see any dresses you want to try on, mark them and I'll start a room for you."

"Thank you." Kat waits until the salesgirl leaves then turns back to me. "With whom did you have sex?"

"Some guy at a club."

"What was his name?" She examines a chiffon ball gown.

I point her to a more subdued dress—an ivory lace sheath. "I didn't ask for his name."

Kat feels the fabric, deems it unacceptable, and moves to the next rack. "And what did he look like?"

Out of all the dresses, only one fits her style. I point to it. "It was dark."

Kat turns to me with folded arms. "What about his body? Not something you could miss during some crazy hot sex."

"It was good."

"Specifically?"

"What are you hoping to prove here?"

"I'm not sure." She looks at the dress with interest. "It concerns me that you're lying."

I take a clothespin and mark the dress.

"Blake told me about your company, how the owners might sell. That must be stressful." She shifts through the dresses, one eye on me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Shit happens at start-ups. Nick is trying to prevent the sale."