Fighting for My Billionaire Boss (2 page)

“If you’re stuck, I could accompany you,” I not-so-flippantly suggest.

Brick’s gaze flicks upward, meeting mine.

Say yes. Say yes. Say yes, I silently coax.

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Henderson.” He tosses the last piece of scone into his mouth and chews. “I’ll find a date. Someone will want the exposure.”

“Someone does.” I’m that someone. I gaze at him, trying to drive that thought into his thick head.

“Hmmm…” He picks up his tablet, signaling the end of the tea party and our conversation.

Shit. I place the faux china on a side table for the cleaning staff to take care of. “Back to work, I go, your faithful assistant.” Destined to never be more than that.

He doesn’t look up. I slink toward the door, dejected.

“Miss Henderson?”

Joy bursts within me. He’s changed his mind, has decided to ask me.

“Yes?” I turn.

Brick continues to gaze at his screen. “Update your media training.”

“I take media training every six months.” And he never allows me to use it, forbidding me to speak to the press.

“Increase that to every three months.”

Fuck. I stomp out of the office. He’ll never ask me to be his date.

A vase of pink carnations is set on a corner of my desk. My top lip curls. Brick gives them to me every week, which would be sweet, except he gives his ladies of the week roses and orchids and other superbly feminine flowers.

I receive sturdy, long-lasting carnations. Because that’s how he sees me—sturdy, long-lasting, durable. I jut out my jaw, even more resolute to figure out the girl world, to become a woman he’d desire.

The morning creeps along. I reply to messages, monitor the flow of people in and out of Brick’s office, supply him with the information he needs for these meetings.

Gossip flies around the floor after that first meeting. Everyone speculates on how our boss got the scratches on his face. Chanelle’s comments are extra loud and directed my way.

I don’t rise to the bait, refusing to contribute to the talk, even though that’s exactly what Gretchen or Trinity or any of Brick’s exes would have done. My boss trusts me to remain silent, to keep our conversations confidential. I would never betray him.

At 11:15 a.m., Tammy at reception calls me, warning that Gretchen is on her way to see Brick, relaying that she’s in a foul mood.

The actress will be even more pissed off when she sees me. Brick has a meeting in his office until noon. She’ll have to wait to talk with him.

I message my boss, keeping him informed.

He won’t be disturbed if she does make a fuss. Requiring a space for his extremely confidential meetings and phone calls, my favorite CEO had his office soundproofed.

A ripple of excitement flows through the cubicles, announcing the actress’s arrival. She glides between the gray fabric-covered walls, each step placed directly in front of the other. I gaze at her, open with my admiration.

That walk is more difficult than it looks. I know. I’ve practiced for hours at home in front of the mirror and I still have too much bounce in my gait.

Gretchen is not only graceful. She’s damn beautiful, her hard, green eyes glittering with self-righteous fury. There isn’t a freckle or blemish on her tanned skin. Her golden-blonde hair fans her high cheekbones and defined chin. The bright-red lipstick on her full, pouty lips matches her skintight dress.

She’s womanly perfection. I can’t blame Brick for lusting after the actress. If I were a man, I’d fuck her.

Gretchen isn’t alone. Her publicist, a narrow-eyed weasel of a man, trails behind her. The woman rarely goes anywhere without him.

Today, he’s her designated bag holder, the actress’s camel-colored tote clutched in his spindly fingers.

I suppress my snide remarks and stand, feeling even more unfeminine than I usually do. “He’s in a meeting, Miss Gretchen.” The woman has no last name.

“I’m not here to see Brick Armitage.” She braces her feet apart, showing off her long, tanned legs. Her publicist scurries around her. Gretchen glances at him and then back at me. “I’m here to see you.”

She wants to see me. A warm glow of happiness fills my soul. “I—”

“I thought you were my friend.” Lines appear between her eyebrows.

I blink. She considers me to be her friend? We haven’t spoken more than a dozen sentences to each other.

“You know how I feel about him.” She waves her beautifully manicured hands at Brick’s office door. “You know I love him, have loved him desperately, crazily, since the first day I saw him.”

My forehead furrows. Is she referring to my boss? Because the first day she saw him wasn’t very long ago.

“He’s in my heart.” She slaps her chest with her right palm. “In my soul.” Gretchen glances at her publicist. He nods. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

A crowd gathers around us, everyone as captivated as I am by the passion in the actress’s voice. I never knew she cared so much for my boss.

This won’t stop me from wanting him but it is good information to have.

“That you betrayed me…” She gazes at me, accusations in her green eyes.

“I didn’t betray you.” I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“How can you say that?” she asks.

The publicist turns his entire body, facing me.

“Because I haven’t.” Hurting her would hurt Brick and I’d never do that.

The publicist swings his body back toward Gretchen. I frown. He’s acting even more strangely than she is.

“How can you look me in the eyes and continue to lie?” Gretchen splays her fingers across her magnificent breasts. “You know what you’ve done to me, to Brick, to the family we’ll now never have.”

The family they’ll now never have? They dated for little over a week.

The publicist is positioned toward me again.

What is he doing?

I study him, his manscaped face, his colorful suit, his death grip on Gretchen’s purse. Oh shit. I spot the gleam of light off glass. No, not glass. A camera lens. There’s a circle cut out of the side of the bag. “Are you recording—”

“You bitch.” Gretchen slaps me across the face, her reaction catching me by surprise, her nails leaving a stinging trail on my cheek. “Were you fucking him the entire time we were dating?”

She hit me. She fuckin’ hit me. Anger rushes through me, hot and feral and intense. I battle the urge to strike back, to punch her lights out.

I’m not that girl anymore.

“One, I’m a lady.” My tone is as sweet and as calm as I can manage. “Not a… what you called me. I don’t use that type of language,” I inform her prissily. “Two—”

“Fuck you,” she screeches and slaps me again, scratching my other cheek.

I catch her wrist and she gasps, staring at me with wide eyes. “
Don’t
do that again.” I release her before I inflict more damage. “Or I will—”

The door to my boss’s office opens. Gretchen swings at me.

Distracted, I react on instinct, my arm shooting out. My right fist connects with her left eye. She staggers backward.

Rational thought flees. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. This fight is on.

“That’s for the pain you caused me.” I follow up with my left fist, popping her in her other eye. “And that’s for the pain you caused my boss.”

“Miss Henderson.” His voice originates behind me.

“You man-stealing tramp.” Gretchen blindly flies at me.

“You insane media slut.” I fling myself at her. Our bodies collide. She’s twice my size, a fuckin’ giant of a woman, and she doesn’t go down.

I climb her like a tree, straddle her waist with my legs, and beat on her. The actress makes a valiant attempt to block and to return my punches. She gets lucky a few times, smacking my chest twice and striking my chin once. But her technique is all over the place.

She doesn’t have my experience at brawling. I jab toward her face. She twists, seeking to avoid the punch. Fabric rips. Her perfect breasts escape her skintight dress.

One of the male idiots watching us cheers.

“That’s enough, Miss Henderson.” Brick’s tone is stern.

That isn’t enough. The knuckles of my right hand connect with the tip of Gretchen’s dainty nose. There’s a crunch. She howls. Blood pours down her face.

“You broke my nose.” Gretchen holds up her arms, attempting to protect her face.

She has to do this because I continue to whale on her. My brothers taught me that a fight isn’t over until my opponent is flat on his or her back.

The actress is still standing. I hit her again and again, throwing in some body slams, trying to take her down.

The bitch finally topples backward, taking me with her. My skirts, all of them, ride up to my waist. Cool air sweeps over my panty-clad ass. I punch her once, twice more for good measure, ensuring she doesn’t get back up.

“Easy, scrapper.” Brick straps his arms around my waist and peels me off her.

“I’m not a scrapper,” I yell, flailing my arms and legs. “I’m a fuckin’ lady.”

His body shakes. “Yes, we see that.”

“You might have drawn first blood but I always draw the last.” I ignore Brick and glare at my adversary. “Remember that, bitch.”

“Keep her away from me.” The actress’s nose continues to bleed. Her face is already starting to swell, her dress is shredded and her breasts hang out. She looks like a mess yet she’s still glorious, sexy in that horror-flick female type of way. “She’s out of control.”

“Says the woman who attacked me for no reason.” I wave my fists in the air, not willing to take any more shit from her. “You’re a complete psycho and should be locked up.”

Gretchen’s publicist doesn’t move, doesn’t attempt to help her. My coworkers stare at us with wide eyes and open mouths. Someone had the brains to call security but the security guard just stands there, gaping at us.

“Dave, please escort Gretchen and her publicist out of the building.” Brick takes command of the situation, assigning the crazy woman to the security guard’s care.

The man doesn’t appear happy to have that responsibility.

“Watch her hands,” I advise. “She scratches.”

Brick’s arms tighten around me. “Gretchen, my lawyer will talk to your lawyer.”

“She broke my nose,” the woman moans.

“You also broke a nail,” I holler back at her. “When you raked those talons of yours across my face.”

A man behind me sniggers.

“I’ll pay for a nose job,” Brick assures his ex. “It’s not like it’s your first.” He mumbles this last comment. “My meetings are canceled for the rest of the day.”

People hurry away from the entrance to his office, darting concerned glances at me. They’re all scared shitless of me. They’ve seen what I can do.

Brick saw this, too. He’ll never see me as feminine now.

“You’re coming with me, scrapper.” My boss hauls me toward his private space. “The rest of you, get back to work.”

“I’m a lady.” This protest is weaker.

“Of course, you are.” Brick turns me until I face him. The humor in his eyes fades when he sees the blood dripping down my cheeks. “Fuck. She messed you up.” He slings my body over his shoulder.

“I messed her up more.” I glance behind us. Gretchen remains knocked on her ass. Pride fills me. I definitely won this fight.

But, in doing that, I might have lost all hope of winning Brick’s love.

“You have an impressive left hook, Miss Henderson.” Brick carries me into his office and kicks the door shut behind us. “I didn’t know ladies could brawl.”

“I didn’t know CEOs could recognize an impressive left hook.” I unabashedly watch my boss’s ass cheeks clench and unclench as he walks. His black dress pants cling to him.

“I’ve been in the ring a couple of times.” The smugness in his voice tells me he’s been in the ring more than that. My billionaire can fight. My brothers would be impressed.

I certainly am.

That doesn’t mean Brick wants a woman who can fight. “Gretchen started it.” It wasn’t my fault.

“No,
I
started it.” He sits behind his big desk, positioning me sideways on his lap.

I snuggle against my boss. He doesn’t seem to realize how inappropriate this is. And I’m not telling him. I like how my body fits into his, the hardness of his muscle around me.

Brick brushes my brown curls over my shoulder and examines my face, cupping my chin, tilting my head to the left and then to the right. His lips flatten, his expression turning even grimmer than it normally is.

“My face looks that bad, huh?” I summon a small smile.

He touches the scratches on my face. “I never wanted to hurt you, Lucille.”

He said my name. My chest heats.

“This isn’t your fault.” I grip his wrist, seeking to lessen the regret in his eyes. “You aren’t responsible for the actions of your ex.”

“I
am
responsible.”

“Those weren’t your nails raking across my face.” I grin at him. The severe set of his lips doesn’t ease. “I’m okay.”

“What did she tell you?”

“You don’t want to know.” I’d rather not repeat the madness she was spewing.

“I do,” he insists.

“Okay.” I sigh. “She told me that she loves you. Has felt that strongly about you since you first met.” I fell in love with him as quickly and understand why she went a little bit crazy.

“Gretchen doesn’t love me.” Brick shakes his head. “We had an arrangement. I gave her the media spotlight she needed to help her career. She accompanied me to dinners and other social events.”

“You had sex.” Their arrangement wasn’t as cold as he depicts it to be.

“She was a substitute for the woman I really wanted to be with, a woman I’d never knowingly subject to the viciousness of the tabloids.” He plunks my ass on his wooden desk, retrieves a box of tissues from the bottom drawer and a bottle of water from his mini fridge, and returns to me.

Am I that woman? I don’t have the balls to ask him.

Brick wets a tissue and slowly, carefully, wipes the drying blood off my face. He’s looking as serious as he always does, except his full attention is on me.

It’s arousing as all fuck.