Wicked to Love by Shayla Black, now you can read online.
“What is the meaning of this?” Brandon Ross grabbed Emberlin Evans’s arm before she could duck into her apartment.
As she gasped out a startled sound and turned to face him, Brandon fisted her letter between them. Goddamn it, he wanted an explanation for why she’d tossed this crap on his desk and left without a word.
Then he saw her face. Redness rimmed her swollen hazel eyes. Tears splashed down her mottled cheeks, rolling past her lips, which were pressed together in a grim line.
His anger evaporated, and he eased closer, relaxing his grip. “Em, are you all right?”
She pulled away, her pale hair like a cloud around her shoulders as she fumbled with her keys. “Fine. I’ve resigned, effective immediately. That’s all you need to know.”
What the hell? Legally, he wasn’t entitled to know more, but personally? “Emmy, what happened? Did someone hurt you?”
“Not in the way you mean.” She closed her eyes, refusing to look at him. “Just…go.”
Fuck no. He’d seen Em cry once in the three years they’d worked together—the day she’d lost her mother. This wasn’t the same calm assistant he’d relied on for everything from faultless organization to uncanny insight. Seeing her pain made his chest feel hollow and tight. Even if she wasn’t going to work for him anymore, he refused to leave her upset.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Em. Do you need help?”
“No.” She edged behind the door, putting it between them, and set her keys on the counter. “I can’t work for you anymore. My resignation letter says everything relevant.”
“Except why.”
Incredulity crossed her face. “Why do you care?”
“No one is more efficient or can more ruthlessly prep me for a meeting. You know this business. We’ve been a damn good team. I don’t understand.”
Em gripped the door between them. “You’ll find someone else who’s equally qualified.”
“I don’t want to find someone else. You’re the best. Do you need more money? I’ll do my damndest to get you a raise. You deserve it.”
“It’s not about money.” She started to close the door, shutting him out.
Alarm set in, and Brandon wedged his foot inside, blocking her. He peeked through the crack. “Please. I…need you.”
The thought of her not being his right hand stabbed him with panic. Nothing would run right without her. He wouldn’t run right without her sassy finger wags, sparkling laughter, and ruthless organization.
But instead of coaxing, his admission seemed to crush her. Her face crumbled as more tears spilled. “No, you don’t. You never will.”
Brandon grabbed her shoulders and pulled her closer. Damn, she felt so fragile, so soft. “Why would you think that? We’ve worked hard to get the city to appropriate funds for the firefighters’ new equipment. We won a major battle last Friday, and you were all smiles after that meeting. Without you, it’s very possible their decision could have gone the other way.”
“You’ll manage just fine on your own. I need a…change. Could you please go?” Em shrugged away and tried to shut the door again.
“Bullshit.” Brandon pushed it open wide and shoved inside. She was upset; no mistaking that. “I don’t believe for one second that you’re done helping Houston’s first responders. You’ve worked your ass off for every victory. For three years you’ve talked about nothing except making sure other families don’t lose a loved one in the line of duty, the way you lost your father. Championing his cause is your passion. I don’t believe you want to give that up.”
No f**king way would Brandon simply let Em go—not until he understood why she wanted to quit something so meaningful to her. Not until he did everything he could to help her.
She sniffled angrily. “You have no idea what I want.”
Brandon still wasn’t buying it, but he’d play along. “If you truly need a different job, I’ll do my best to help you. As a boss, I’m really disappointed to lose you. But as your friend, I’m not leaving until—”
“Your friend?” She stared at the ceiling for a painful moment. When she looked at him, fresh tears glistened.
Oh, damn. She wasn’t simply upset; she was upset with him. Was she quitting because of something he’d said or done?
“Emmy, tell me what I did to make you cry,” he murmured. “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it intentionally. I assumed we were friends, but if you don’t want to be—”
Brandon clammed up, refusing to finish that sentence. It bugged him that she wouldn’t think they were at least friends. No, the thought actually hurt.
Of course Em had worked for him, but they’d shared more than a job—at least he’d thought so. Brandon had held her hand at her mother’s funeral. She’d nursed him back from that terrible flu last fall. She’d prepared a delicious Thanksgiving dinner for his half-sister Morgan and her husband, Jack, keeping the conversation rolling so that there’d been no awkward moments—a big plus since Brandon had once taken Jack’s former wife to bed.