Bad Boss, page 10
The loneliness hurt her and I didn’t like that, not one bit.
‘I have my reasons,’ Damian muttered.
‘And what are those?’ I didn’t like what he was saying. Was Morgan’s loneliness somehow related to Damian? Had he made her feel lonely because he never visited? That made me angry and I wasn’t sure why.
‘Private reasons that have sweet fuck all to do with you,’ Damian said curtly. ‘If you want to know, you’ll have to ask her.’
‘I will,’ I assured him. ‘But you must know something about what she likes or doesn’t like. She’s your sister, after all.’
Damian let out a breath and I heard a woman’s voice in the background, soft and husky, saying something to him. ‘Okay, okay. When she was a little kid, I remember she wanted to visit the Eiffel Tower.’
Well, that wouldn’t be too difficult for me to arrange. ‘Good. Anything else?’
But this time a very feminine laugh came down the other end of the line and Damian said breathlessly, ‘Oh yeah, one other thing. Remember what I told you about taking care of her. If you try anything, I’ll punch your fucking head in.’
The line went dead as he disconnected the call.
Presumably by ‘try anything’ he meant sex, in which case it was too late. Another of those discomforting sensations twisted in my gut. Not because I’d had sex with her already, but because Damian hadn’t visited her. And the more I thought about it, the angrier I became.
I couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t have done so. He was her brother—wasn’t he supposed to? I wasn’t sure how families worked, never having had one myself, but I was sure they were supposed to talk to each other regularly or at least stay in contact. But Damian hadn’t with Morgan, and now Morgan was lonely.
My fingers curled into a fist. Maybe it wouldn’t be Damian punching my fucking head in. Maybe I’d be punching his.
But Damian wasn’t here to punch so that wasn’t helpful. I needed to concentrate on the date tomorrow, get everything planned. And if I did it well enough perhaps Morgan wouldn’t be so lonely any more.
I uncurled my fingers and turned away from the window.
It took me a couple of hours to get everything set up and ready, but once that was done I put a call through to Morgan to tell her what would be happening tomorrow, as she did like to be prepared.
She answered the phone almost immediately, but she didn’t sound very happy. ‘Ulysses, do you know what bloody time it is?’
I stopped beside my desk and glanced out of the windows again. It was dark outside, same as it had been a couple of hours ago. ‘No.’
‘It’s nearly midnight!’
‘I needed to tell you what’s happening tomorrow,’ I said, annoyed with myself about the time, because I did know that most people didn’t stay up the way I did. Then again, she needed to know the plan. ‘If I’d left it until morning it would have been too late.’
She sighed. ‘Okay, so what’s happening tomorrow?’
‘Our date.’ I was about to go on and explain, then another of those suspicions wound through me. Perhaps it would be better if I didn’t tell her.
‘What about it?’ Her voice was a little bit curt.
‘I’ve arranged it.’ I hesitated. ‘Maybe I won’t tell you, though. Maybe it should be a surprise.’
‘A surprise?’
I couldn’t tell what was in her voice now, couldn’t tell if she was pleased or not, but I wanted her to be pleased. ‘Yes, a surprise. You like surprises?’
‘I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one.’
‘I could tell you if you want,’ I offered. ‘I’m going to—’
‘No,’ she interrupted quickly, ‘don’t tell me. I’d...like a surprise.’
I stopped beside the window again, looking out over the lights, but I didn’t count them. Every sense I had concentrated on Morgan’s voice, trying to glean meaning from the husky notes in it. Was she tired? If so, why was she up at this time of night?
‘Why are you awake, Morgan?’ I asked.
‘Oh... I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Why not?’
She was silent. It was the strangest thing, but I was sure I could hear something in that silence. As if she was trying to tell me something without words.
I’d never managed to pick up on the unspoken cues that people gave to each other, never managed to read people. And, since Uncle John, I’d never tried. Why would I when I always got it wrong?
But I didn’t want to get it wrong with Morgan. I’d been getting a lot of things wrong with her and now I wanted to get something right.
‘Is it...because you’re lonely?’ I asked very carefully.
Another silence.
Her voice this time was quieter, softer. ‘Yes.’
It had been a guess, and I should have been pleased that I’d got it right, but I wasn’t pleased. I didn’t want her to be lonely.
My chest felt as if something was pressing down on it, and I didn’t know what to do.
Or maybe I did.
‘Morgan, do you want to...?’ I stopped, unusually hesitant. Was this the right thing to offer? I wasn’t sure. Then again, I didn’t have anything else to give her. ‘Do you...want me?’
Yet another silence. Longer this time, and the pressure on my chest became more intense, the sides of my phone digging into my palms as I held on to it. Why did this matter? Who cared if she said no?
But I cared and the feeling inside me gathered tighter, reminding me of sitting on that park bench with Uncle John and watching his face, wanting something I didn’t understand. And afterwards feeling a heavy, painful sensation in my gut as he’d told me that he’d decided he wouldn’t be adopting me after all, that I’d have to find another family.
It was a memory that made me uncomfortable so I ignored it, concentrating instead on the silence down the other end of the phone.
‘Yes,’ Morgan whispered at last. ‘I think I do.’
The tightness in my chest released.
‘I’ll be there in ten minutes,’ I said.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Morgan
I WOKE IN Ulysses’s bed for the second morning in a row and for a moment I lay there, staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t beside me, I could tell already, and that was probably a good thing. Parts of me were still aching and tender from the night before and I felt a bit rough around the edges.
He was a demanding partner and, though I was more than okay with his demands, I wasn’t sorry for some recovery time now.
I still wasn’t sure if I’d done the right thing in sleeping with him again, though. Yesterday I’d thought that some distance was what I wanted, and when I’d got home that evening I’d busied myself with a TV dinner and catching up on a romantic drama I’d been watching for the past week.
I’d tried not to think about the decision I’d made to hand him my resignation. Or about the date I’d agreed to go on with him.
Something sad settled in me whenever I thought of those two things, which wasn’t what I’d wanted at all. The decision to resign was meant to be a change for me. It was supposed to be exciting. And yet I didn’t feel excited.
I hadn’t felt excited about this date, either. Ulysses was only asking me out because he didn’t want to get another PA. It wasn’t about me. None of it was about me. And I was selfish enough that I wanted it to be.
I’d lost myself in my TV show, but once I’d got into bed I hadn’t been able to sleep. The sadness felt as if it had crept into my bones and was sitting there like damp in the foundations of a house, making me feel fragile. Making my chest ache. The silence in my little flat had never been so loud or so heavy, and I’d been on the point of getting up and turning the TV on, just for some noise, when my phone had buzzed on my bedside table.
I hadn’t meant to answer it, but when Ulysses’s name had flashed up my hand had shot out and I’d pressed the answer button before I could stop myself. And when his deep, cold voice had come down the phone, the silence around me had felt less loud, less heavy.
I don’t know how he’d guessed that it was loneliness I’d been feeling. He never picked up on that stuff face to face, let alone on a phone call. But somehow he’d known. And his question had surprised me so much that I hadn’t been able to give him anything but the truth. When he’d asked me if I wanted him, I’d said yes before I could stop myself.
Of course, it was just sex he was offering, but I didn’t care.
It was one of those times where I loved his straight-up impatience. That he didn’t make me wait. He’d been there in exactly ten minutes and, as I hadn’t wanted to be in my flat, he’d taken me back to his.
Then he’d fucked me on the floor of his living room, then over the arm of his couch, then twice more in his bed. I’d fallen asleep with his arms around me, the heat of his passion burning the sadness right out of me.
It was still there, though, I could feel the cold ache of it, so instead I tried to think about what this date would be like.
A surprise, he’d said, which itself surprised me, as I hadn’t thought Ulysses was capable of surprises.
You underestimate him. There’s a lot of things you don’t think he’s capable of, yet it turns out he is.
But I didn’t want to think about that. Mainly because I had a suspicion that, once I did, I’d start thinking other things, wanting other things. Things I shouldn’t be wanting from him because, not only was he my boss, he was a man who ultimately could never give me the thing I most craved.
A connection.
Pushing aside the duvet, I slid out of bed. A white towelling bathrobe was draped over the end of the bed and, as my clothes weren’t in the immediate vicinity, I put on that instead then went in search of Ulysses.
His penthouse was at the top of one of the skyscrapers near the river and had the most fantastic views. It was furnished very simply, with a neutral palette of whites and greys and blacks. There was no art on the walls or knickknacks on the bookshelves. No photographs, even. Nothing at all that was personal.
It was very much like a hotel room, which made the sadness in my bones ache a little more. Because, if the emptiness of his home was a reflection of the emptiness of his life, then he was even more isolated than I’d imagined.
Did he have no likes or dislikes when it came to his environment? No friends with whom to have photos taken and pinned onto the fridge door? No souvenirs he wanted to bring back to remember different experiences by? No family?
He had Everett and Damian, but there were no pictures of them anywhere. No photos of his family. No nothing. There were books on the bookshelves, but they all looked pristine, the magazines stacked on the shockingly expensive glass coffee-table uncreased. There was no dust anywhere, but I knew he had the place cleaned every day.
And it came to me, as I paused in the doorway, that he was a man who moved through life leaving no trace of himself anywhere, except for the company he’d built. Was that a monument to something? Did he have a reason for why he’d driven himself to build that company up from nothing? Was it money or something else? A legacy? Did he even know himself?
The questions tumbled around in my head like dice being thrown, and I realised that I wanted to know. I wanted some insight into the man I’d been working for for so long.
‘There are some clothes on the couch.’ Ulysses’s deep voice came from behind me. ‘You have time for a shower, but then we’ll have to leave.’
I turned around.
He was standing in the hallway behind me, adjusting his cufflinks. Again he was in one of his beautifully cut suits, a white business shirt and a gorgeously coloured tie in blue silk. His beautiful face was set in its customarily granite lines, but there was a light in his black eyes I’d never seen before.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was excitement.
‘What’s the time?’ I asked, belatedly realising that of course it was a work day, and here was Ulysses, plainly ready for work. I was going to be late again, wasn’t I?
‘Just before nine. The plane leaves soon so I’d get dressed if I were you.’
‘The plane?’
Finishing with his cufflinks, he glanced at me. ‘Yes. It’s for our date. We’re going by plane.’
I blinked in astonishment. A plane? Did that mean no work? Unheard of. ‘Going where?’
‘It’s a surprise.’
Was that...smugness in his face? Surely not?
But then, I didn’t have much more time to wonder as Ulysses gently ushered me into the shower, bringing the clothes that were on the couch into the bathroom so I had something to put on. They weren’t the clothes I’d been wearing the night before. In fact, they were clothes I’d never seen before.
‘Where did these come from?’ I asked as he laid them down on the stool beside the vanity. ‘They’re not mine.’
‘A shop.’
A typical Ulysses answer. ‘Yes, but why did they come from a shop?’
‘I bought them for you.’ He glanced down at his watch. ‘You have fifteen minutes.’
‘Why did you buy them for me?’
‘The ones you were wearing last night weren’t suitable for our date. Come on—you don’t have much time.’
It was clear I wasn’t going to get too many more answers out of him, so I had my shower then dressed in the clothes he’d apparently bought for me. Black lace knickers and a strapless black bra. A very pretty, but very figure-hugging, blue silk dress with spaghetti straps that fitted me like a glove. There were even matching blue high-heeled sandals to go with it.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about wearing something he’d bought for me—how did he even know my size?—but when I came out of the bathroom the hot gleam that leapt in his eyes as he looked at me made warmth glow in my chest.
‘It fits well,’ he said, his gaze raking over me.
‘Yes, it does.’ I swallowed, my throat gone tight. ‘Did you guess my size?’
‘No. I looked at the labels on your other clothes.’
Something warmed inside me. No one had bought me things before and I’d never thought he’d be the first one to do it.
‘I like it,’ I said and meant it. ‘Thank you. But...why are we going on a date this morning? What about work?’
‘We won’t be at work today.’ He turned. ‘Come on, the car is downstairs already.’
He was being quite mysterious for such a literal man and I wasn’t sure whether to be irritated about it or not. In the end, I decided to go with it, because I liked that he was being mysterious. And I liked that he was obviously excited, too. He’d put thought into this date, which I hadn’t expected.
The car took us to one of the private airfields just out of London and from there we boarded one of Black and White’s sleek little private jets. Ulysses wouldn’t be drawn on where we were going but, as he’d somehow miraculously managed to conjure my passport out of thin air, it was obviously going to be out of the country.
Pleasure curled inside me, leaching away some of the aching sadness in my bones, and as we sat down ready for take-off I teased him gently about how mysterious he was being and whether he was sure one day off work was allowed.
He never noticed when I was teasing him, but something told me that he was aware of it now, because he sat opposite me, staring at me, that hot gleam steadily burning in his eyes. He didn’t smile—he never did—yet his beautiful mouth was relaxed, as if any minute it would curve.
He looked so thoroughly pleased with himself it made my heart tighten.
Our date turned out to be in Paris, which thrilled me. I’d never been there, because I’d never had time, but I’d always wanted to go. And I couldn’t stop smiling as yet another car took us from the airport into the city. ‘Where are we going now?’ I asked as we drove along the banks of the Seine.
‘It’s a surprise,’ he said yet again.
Another half an hour and I soon discovered what my surprise was.
Brunch at the Eiffel Tower.
We had the most delicious meal in the restaurant on the first level, and then I discovered that Ulysses had somehow managed to get the whole top level closed off just for him and me.
I stared in amazement at the views as I stood at one of the rails, looking north. It was a beautiful day. The sky was the same colour as Ulysses’s tie—a dense, deep blue—and the sounds of the city rose all around us.
‘Do you like this?’ Ulysses asked, leaning on the rail beside me.
‘Oh, yes, it’s fantastic.’ And it was. Very fantastic. I inhaled some of the rich Parisian air. ‘What made you think of this?’
‘I didn’t think of it,’ he said with his characteristic bluntness. ‘I called Damian to ask him what you liked and he said that you always wanted to go up the Eiffel Tower.’
I had? I frowned, trying to remember. Oh, that was right. Damian had got me Madeline out of the library and I’d been obsessed with Paris for a couple of weeks afterwards. ‘When I was seven,’ I said, smiling at the memory. ‘How funny that he’d remember.’
‘Why does he never visit you here?’ Ulysses asked unexpectedly.
A cold shock pulsed down my spine.
I’d had no idea Ulysses had even noticed, let alone wondered about, the reasons Damian never came to London. Why was he interested now?
I kept my gaze on the beautiful view, looking along the Champ de Mars, the warm air whispering over the bare skin of my shoulders. ‘He has his reasons.’
‘That’s what he said. But what reasons are those?’
I didn’t want to talk about this, which was silly. Damian and I had begun to sort out our issues when he’d turned up unexpectedly at the Black and White Foundation launch. He’d texted me since then about meeting up to talk and it was plain he had things to tell me.
