billion book
Chapter 27
Another disbelieving noise, this one more like an outright scoff. “Amazing. You’re such a control freak.”
“I wouldn’t have to be if I could trust people to keep me in the loop!” Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I’m being irrational, but I’ve temporarily lost my ability to care.
“Just calm d-” Someone blasts their horn and Noah swears under his breath. “Look, I can’t really talk now. I’ll be back in ten minutes and we can discuss this.”
He hangs up. I drop the phone back in its cradle and massage my forehead. Christ, I don’t know how much more disorganization I can take in one day. This clusterfuck is going to give me an ulcer.
After a few minutes of trying to settle down, I give up and push back my chair. Hopefully a little walk and a change of scenery will help.
I head for the cooler near the front desk and pour myself a cup of ice-cold water. A huge, silvery bubble rises through the tank with a loud bloop. Not for the first time, I wonder how dispensing such a small amount of liquid creates such a big bubble.
My time is almost up, and I’m still no closer to knowing for sure if Noah and I will actually work as a married couple. Sure, we’ve shared some sweet moments, and some smoking-hot ones too.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.
There were a few of both at Maria’s birthday party this weekend. At first, I’d felt like I was intruding on their private family gathering. I hadn’t exactly been invited, after all. I was just Noah’s girlfriend-and who brings a date to a kid’s party, anyway?
But Noah was so reassuring, and everyone welcomed me with open arms. Some of Noah’s charisma must have rubbed off on me. Although I could have done without Rosita’s little congratulatory winks.
Once again, I was reminded of a mother doting proudly on her son. Noah was definitely part of her family. He made a point of catching up with everyone at the party, not just the general “how’s work?” kind of icebreaker, but specific questions like “Is your cousin out of his leg cast yet?” or “Did you get that promotion you were planning to ask for?” He obviously tries hard to remember the details of their lives.
But maybe that isn’t so surprising. Even though Noah can be self-absorbed sometimes, he’s a real people person. That gift of gab sometimes makes me jealous . . . when it doesn’t sweep me off my feet like everyone else he interacts with. He’s always so comfortable in his own skin, so at home in any situation. He looked just as natural in shorts and a silly paper hat, roughhousing with kids in a muddy backyard, as he does in a three-piece bespoke suit at an executive luncheon.
Watching him laugh that day . . . it’s definitely persuaded me to let him get closer.
Okay, so Noah is a decent man. A pretty great one, even. But does that mean I have to let go of my dream of falling madly in love someday?
What I need is a sign.
I let my gaze drift across the reception area as I drink my water. The front door swings open, and for a second, I think Noah must have made it back in record time.
Then I recognize the man and I almost choke. Oh no. No, no, no . . .
My stomach clenches as every nerve lights up with a fight-or-flight impulse. I can’t even tell if I’m terrified or furious-this feeling is just raw, undifferentiated adrenaline.
It’s Bradford Daniels, my ex-boyfriend from hell, standing just a few yards away. What the fuck is he doing here? I thought I was done with him forever. I thought I’d escaped. But now he’s in my building, my sanctuary, and I had no warning at all and I’m not ready.
Stunned, my heart hammering in my chest, I watch him like a deer in the headlights as he checks in at the front desk. He leans close to the receptionist. I can’t hear what he says, but I can guess by his flirtatious smile and her answering giggle.
It’s not her fault. Brad’s handsome face and country-club manners once tricked me too. She can’t know any better. Can’t see the slimy soul hiding underneath.
I started dating Brad in college because he was hot, he came from a prestigious family, and he was the first guy I’ve ever met who shared my hard-driving ambition. But I discovered too late that his competitive spirit was untempered by any sense of fair play. All the privilege he was born into, as staggering as it was, still didn’t satisfy him. He felt entitled to more-by any means necessary.
His father was the only person he felt true loyalty to. Everyone else in the world existed to use for his own benefit. And what made him really dangerous was his ability to disguise his predatory selfishness. He blatantly used his inferiors because he knew he could get away with it, but he sucked up to his superiors and manipulated his peers so skillfully that nobody with any power to stop him ever caught on to his games.
I still hate to admit just how long I let Brad use me. He had me convinced that he was trying his best to love me and I was the one being “difficult.” I clung to the scraps of affection he rationed out when and only when he wanted something from me.
It took me over two years to realize that Brad-not my “difficult” personality, not the stress from my classes and internships and club duties-was the reason I was so miserable all the time. It took another six months for me to do something about that revelation. I broke up with him at our graduation ceremony so I’d never have to see him again.
Or so I thought.
Brad turns and spots me. Noticing my appalled stare, he gives me a sarcastic little wave.
Rage wins out over panic. My paralysis shatters. After spiking my paper cup into the trash can, I charge over to him like a mother wolf defending my den.
“Get out,” I growl.