Office Grump An Enemies to Lovers Romance - Nicole Snow Page 0,139
some out on the counter. Then I walk back to the sunroom, but stop short at the room Jordan stayed in.
All of his stuff is still here, left behind without answers.
I’ve been sucker punched.
My bastard father kidnapped my little brother. School isn’t out for another three months.
He’s going to ruin this kid’s life, and it’s all my fault.
If I hadn’t lied, if I’d told him the truth about the devil who made us both, he might’ve listened to me at the hospital.
Also, I miss him.
Goddammit, I do.
He was a good kid. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he realized that dirty old man proved I lied to him.
Idiot. I resist the urge to jump off my wrapped balcony.
“I’ll make this right somehow, J-man,” I whisper to my own reflection.
I wish I knew how.
Moving into the sunroom, I stare out at downtown Chicago with its silvery lights twinkling like tinsel. The penthouse has never felt so empty, so cold.
The worst part is, someone else is alone tonight because of my fuck-ups. I should probably visit her, only I don’t have the guts to tell her I let her son leave with the man who defiled her life.
I down the scotch and then go back to the kitchen for a few more fingers.
When the second drink is gone, I change clothes, brush my teeth, and fall into bed. Sleep doesn’t come.
It’s too early for me. I’m only home because I couldn’t focus, and because my inbox is an overflowing sewer.
Worse, I’m so addicted to Brina’s body snug against mine that I can’t sleep without her now.
My duvet still smells like cinnamon and vanilla and more sex I wish we’d had, and so do my pillows. This has to be remedied.
I grab my phone and text Ruby. Order me a new duvet, pillows, shams, sheets, the works. Don’t care what it looks like. Tip yourself twenty percent.
A second later, she replies.
Yeah, no. It’s way too late for you to be texting me about your personal issues. I’m not your EA. I’m not even sure this is an appropriate task for an assistant. Stop being an ass in a top hat and beg her to come back to work.
Magnus: Without sleep I’ll be harder to deal with.
Ruby: Sounds like a you problem.
Savage. I remember when my employees used to be scared of me.
Maybe she’s right, though. Maybe I should beg Sabrina to keep her job.
I pull up her contact and start typing.
How are you? How’s it going? Are you okay?
You had Armstrong help you buy a car?
Did you have to tell me to lose your fucking number? Brina, I’ve never needed you more.
I can’t bring myself to hit send on any of these trash messages.
Nothing I type seems right, and I’m not about to admit that I need her. That I’m dying without her, and I can’t do something as simple as sleep without her, or as complicated as running my own company.
Magnus Heron, you have fucked this up.
I stalk her LinkedIn profile. It says she works at HeronComm. Maybe, if she isn’t already pounding the pavement after a new job, she’ll come back.
Right. She had to be talked into taking my job.
I scan her social profiles next. She’s posting her mom’s books and watching movies with Paige.
She’s fine.
I’m not.
I text Ruby again. Where are we at on the search for the new EA? I don’t think she’s coming back.
Ruby: I drafted the ads today. They’ll go up tomorrow. She said that?
I hesitate before replying.
Magnus: No.
Her online activity speaks for her.
She’s surviving better than me.
The woman bought herself a car and moved on.
Ruby: Don’t send me stupid texts when you haven’t even talked to her. I don’t have the time.
I fight the urge to chuck my phone across the room, feeling like a kid who’s just lost his first crush.
Outrageous.
I’m The Magnum. CEO. Billionaire. Time to start acting like it.
Magnus: How fast can we do interviews?
Ruby: Depends. You’ve hired and fired all the good ones in this city, remember? Your quickest path to an EA who can take the heat is to get the one you had back.
It’s so much worse than that.
If I did any damn begging with Sabrina Bristol, it wouldn’t be hounding her to return as my EA. I can find anyone to check my email, shuffle my schedule, and deliver coffee.
What I can’t replace is her.
A few hours and a hangover’s worth of scotch later, I finally fall asleep on the couch, swallowed by dreams.