Beautiful Bastard
Page 74
“Do we really need to discuss why I was an ass**le before? You weren’t exactly Little Miss Sunshine yourself. And why is now the time to hash this out?”
“This isn’t about you being an ass**le before. It’s about how you’re being now. You’re compensating. This is exactly why you don’t f**k your boss. You were a fine boss before—you let me do my thing and you did yours. Now you’re the touchy-feely mentor who calls me ‘kid’ to the guy I saved your ass with? Unbelievable.”
“Chloe—”
“I can deal with you being a giant dick, Bennett. I’m used to it, I expect it. It’s how we work. Because beneath all the huffing and door slamming, I knew that you respected me. But how you were today—it puts a line there that wasn’t there before . . .” She shook her head, glanced back out the window.
“I think you’re overreacting.”
“Maybe,” she said, leaning down to dig her phone out of her purse. “But I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am—am I risking all that?”
“We can do both, Chloe. For a few more months, we can work together and be together. This? What’s happening today? Is called growing pains.”
“I’m not sure,” she said, blinking away and looking past me. “I’m just trying to do the smart thing, Bennett. I never questioned my own worth before, even when I thought you did. And then when I believed you saw exactly who I was, and you belittled me . . .” She looked up, eyes pained. “I guess I don’t want to start questioning myself now. After everything I’ve worked for.”
The plane landed with a jolt and even still it didn’t rattle me as much as what she said. I had led discussions with the heads of some of the largest finance departments in the world. I had taken on executives who thought they could squash me. I could fight with this woman until the world ended and feel like more of a man with every word. But right then, I couldn’t find a single thing to say.
To say I couldn’t sleep that night would be an understatement. I could barely even lie down. Every flat surface seemed to have her imprint, and it didn’t matter that she’d never been to my place. The mere fact that we talked about it—and that I’d planned for her to come here our first night back—made her ghost as good as permanent.
I called her; she didn’t answer. Granted, it was at three in the morning, but I knew she wasn’t sleeping either. Her silence was worsened by the fact that I knew she felt what I felt. I knew she was in just as deep as I was. But she thought she shouldn’t be.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
I got in at six, before I knew she’d be there. I got us both coffee, updated my calendar to save her some time she could use to catch up after being gone. I faxed the contract to Gugliotti, telling him the version he saw in San Diego was final, and whatever Chloe presented would stand. I gave him two days to return the signature pages.
And then, I waited.
At eight, my father came into my office, Henry close behind. Dad scowled often, but rarely at me. Henry never looked pissed.
But both of them looked like they wanted to murder me.
“What did you do?” Dad dropped a piece of paper on my desk.
Ice dripped into my veins. “What is that?”
“It’s Chloe’s resignation letter. She dropped it off with Sara this morning.”
It was a full minute before I could speak. In that time, the only sound was my brother saying, “Ben, dude. What happened?”
“I f**ked up,” I said, finally, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes.
Dad sat down, face composed. He was sitting in the chair that, not a month ago, Chloe had sat in, spread her legs, and touched herself while I tried to keep it together on the phone.
Christ, how did I let it get to this?
“Tell me what happened.” My father’s voice got very quiet: a lull between quakes.
I pulled my tie looser around my neck, suffocating under the weight on my chest.
Chloe left me.
“We’re together. Or, we were.”
Henry shouted, “I knew it!” just as Dad yelled, “You what?”
“Not until San Diego,” I reassured them quickly. “Before San Diego we were just—”
“Fucking?” Henry offered helpfully, and received a sharp look from Dad.
“Yes. We were just . . .” A spike of pain gouged into my chest. Her expression when I leaned in to kiss her. Her full bottom lip caught between my teeth. Her laugh against my mouth. “And as you both know, I was a jerk. She gave back just as good, though,” I assured them. “And in San Diego, it became more. Fuck.” I reached for the letter before pulling my hand back. “She really resigned?”
“This isn’t about you being an ass**le before. It’s about how you’re being now. You’re compensating. This is exactly why you don’t f**k your boss. You were a fine boss before—you let me do my thing and you did yours. Now you’re the touchy-feely mentor who calls me ‘kid’ to the guy I saved your ass with? Unbelievable.”
“Chloe—”
“I can deal with you being a giant dick, Bennett. I’m used to it, I expect it. It’s how we work. Because beneath all the huffing and door slamming, I knew that you respected me. But how you were today—it puts a line there that wasn’t there before . . .” She shook her head, glanced back out the window.
“I think you’re overreacting.”
“Maybe,” she said, leaning down to dig her phone out of her purse. “But I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am—am I risking all that?”
“We can do both, Chloe. For a few more months, we can work together and be together. This? What’s happening today? Is called growing pains.”
“I’m not sure,” she said, blinking away and looking past me. “I’m just trying to do the smart thing, Bennett. I never questioned my own worth before, even when I thought you did. And then when I believed you saw exactly who I was, and you belittled me . . .” She looked up, eyes pained. “I guess I don’t want to start questioning myself now. After everything I’ve worked for.”
The plane landed with a jolt and even still it didn’t rattle me as much as what she said. I had led discussions with the heads of some of the largest finance departments in the world. I had taken on executives who thought they could squash me. I could fight with this woman until the world ended and feel like more of a man with every word. But right then, I couldn’t find a single thing to say.
To say I couldn’t sleep that night would be an understatement. I could barely even lie down. Every flat surface seemed to have her imprint, and it didn’t matter that she’d never been to my place. The mere fact that we talked about it—and that I’d planned for her to come here our first night back—made her ghost as good as permanent.
I called her; she didn’t answer. Granted, it was at three in the morning, but I knew she wasn’t sleeping either. Her silence was worsened by the fact that I knew she felt what I felt. I knew she was in just as deep as I was. But she thought she shouldn’t be.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
I got in at six, before I knew she’d be there. I got us both coffee, updated my calendar to save her some time she could use to catch up after being gone. I faxed the contract to Gugliotti, telling him the version he saw in San Diego was final, and whatever Chloe presented would stand. I gave him two days to return the signature pages.
And then, I waited.
At eight, my father came into my office, Henry close behind. Dad scowled often, but rarely at me. Henry never looked pissed.
But both of them looked like they wanted to murder me.
“What did you do?” Dad dropped a piece of paper on my desk.
Ice dripped into my veins. “What is that?”
“It’s Chloe’s resignation letter. She dropped it off with Sara this morning.”
It was a full minute before I could speak. In that time, the only sound was my brother saying, “Ben, dude. What happened?”
“I f**ked up,” I said, finally, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes.
Dad sat down, face composed. He was sitting in the chair that, not a month ago, Chloe had sat in, spread her legs, and touched herself while I tried to keep it together on the phone.
Christ, how did I let it get to this?
“Tell me what happened.” My father’s voice got very quiet: a lull between quakes.
I pulled my tie looser around my neck, suffocating under the weight on my chest.
Chloe left me.
“We’re together. Or, we were.”
Henry shouted, “I knew it!” just as Dad yelled, “You what?”
“Not until San Diego,” I reassured them quickly. “Before San Diego we were just—”
“Fucking?” Henry offered helpfully, and received a sharp look from Dad.
“Yes. We were just . . .” A spike of pain gouged into my chest. Her expression when I leaned in to kiss her. Her full bottom lip caught between my teeth. Her laugh against my mouth. “And as you both know, I was a jerk. She gave back just as good, though,” I assured them. “And in San Diego, it became more. Fuck.” I reached for the letter before pulling my hand back. “She really resigned?”
