Drunk on You: an age gap, enemies to lovers, fake engagement, office romance (Love & Whiskey Boo

Chapter Sixteen

Julian has been quiet.And that scares me.

I expected him to retaliate after the gay-porn incident, but instead, he left work early to work from home—where he found me in the pool, skinny-dipping.

I’d like to say it was a coincidence, but after I heard him tell Josie he was leaving, I hauled ass home. After he had pinned me up against the wall and had me all but begging for release, he’d deserved to be teased right back.

I spent the rest of the afternoon working from under his cabana since it was beautiful out, and when I finally went inside to shower, waiting for me on the kitchen counter was a note.

A bet is a bet. Your home-cooked dinner is in the warmer.

I was a little worried that he’d poisoned it, but I was so hungry, and it smelled so good. I took my chances, and it was delicious.

Yesterday, I learned from Josie that Julian was working from home again. And, yes, I’m aware it looks bad that I wasn’t even aware of that, which was why I texted him, telling him it would be nice to be kept in the loop so I didn’t look like a dumbass in the future.

He thumbs-upped my text, and I wanted to text back where he could shove that damn thumb, but refrained. I spent the day working on my idea, getting to know people in the marketing department and consulting them regarding my thoughts. I learned who was Team Julian and noted ways to win them over.

Once again, when I got home, there was a plate of food waiting for me, just as delicious.

Now, it’s Friday morning, and I’m shocked to find that Julian has already left for work. I’ve been so nervous about him retaliating that it’s been hard to concentrate, but seeing as it’s been a couple days, I feel like if he was going to strike, he would’ve already done so.

And that type of thinking is exactly why I’m not expecting what happens next. I walk into the break room at work, pull a mug from the cabinet, and pop a Nespresso pod into the machine. As I inhale the sweet aroma of blonde espresso, my eyes wander to the corkboard, and I almost have a heart attack.

Because pinned to the board is an eight-by-ten collage of scandalous photos from my past. The title, printed in the same font used for Kingston Limited branding reads, Daddy’s Princess Marketing with the Wrong Assets. And underneath it is damn near every embarrassing and incriminating photo in color.

I snatch it off the board, looking at every picture—from partying on the beach to experimenting with weed—and I relive the embarrassment and shame all over again. After I got my shit together my sophomore year of college, I put these days behind me. I retook the classes I’d failed, and I graduated with honors.

How Julian got these photos, I have no idea, but he’s going to pay for this. I put porn on his laptop, but nobody but my dad and IT knew about it. He hung this on the board for everyone to see.

And then it hits me. Are there any more of these?

I rush out of the break room and straight to Julian’s office, barging in without knocking. He’s on the phone, but when he sees me, he tells whoever is on the other line that he’ll call them back.

“Morning, fiancée, what can I?—”

“How dare you!” I hiss, slamming the poster on his desk. “You took this too far!”

“Seriously?” Julian scoffs. “You put fucking porn on my computer, but I went too far?”

“It was a joke!” I shout. “But what you did was personal.”

He leans over the desk, his eyes locking with mine. “You don’t get it because you were born into this life,” he says, his voice low, like he’s struggling to contain his anger. “I’ve had to fight tooth and nail for every ounce of respect I’ve earned, and your joke could’ve easily destroyed the reputation I’ve built for myself. Porn on a company device is considered gross misconduct and grounds for immediate termination.”

Oh shit. He’s right.

“I-I didn’t think about that,” I say, taken aback by his admission. “I didn’t consider the possible consequences.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he hisses. “Why would you? You don’t have anything to lose … not like I do. If you don’t get the position, you have an entire trust fund to fall back on. All I have is my reputation. When I started here, I was nothing more than a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks, but I’ve spent years busting my ass to become something more. I’ve earned my position, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to ruin everything I’ve worked for.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, meaning it. Yeah, I’m upset about what he did to me, but now that he’s laying it all out on the table, I was in the wrong too. “I was pissed, and it was petty,” I admit. “But please, I need to know where you put the other posters.”

I point at the one on his desk, trying like hell to keep my traitorous tears from falling, but the thought of my dad seeing this and being reminded of what a failure his daughter was has them spilling over.

“If my dad sees them …” I choke out a sob. “He can’t see them. Those pictures are a reminder of every time I messed up, proving why I would never be good enough to run this company. They’re of me lashing out because I was craving his attention and he wouldn’t look my way. Only when he did, he told me I didn’t deserve to be a Kingston. That he was disappointed and ashamed of me.”

I walk around the desk, and he turns his chair so he’s facing me.

“Please, nobody else can see those pictures, especially not my dad,” I cry, tears sliding down my cheeks. I should probably be embarrassed about Julian seeing me this upset and weak, but I just don’t have it in me to care.

Julian shocks me by lifting me into his arms and carrying me over to the couch. He sets me on his lap and wipes my tears.

“Ana,” he murmurs, using the name only my mom has ever called me, “I know you think your dad was disappointed and ashamed, and he might’ve said those words out of anger, but I listened to him talk about you for years, and I swear, he was—and is—so damn proud of you.”

“Yet he didn’t want me to work for him,” I whisper, trying to get ahold of my emotions.

“Did he actually say that, or did you assume it?”

“I was supposed to work for him after graduation, but after my mom died, I was devastated and told him it was best if I left, that I needed to get away from here for a little while. I needed time to grieve. I thought he would ask me to stay, but instead, he agreed and let me go. And not once over the years has he asked me to come back.”

Julian nods in understanding. “I’m sorry about the poster, but it’s the only one. I hung it up right before you got in, knowing you’d go straight there and see it. I never intended for anyone but you to see it.”

“Thank you. And I’m sorry about the gay porn. I would never try to risk your reputation. It was a stupid, thoughtless prank.”

“Yeah, well, you got me good,” he says with a small smile. “Your dad was not thrilled that his future son-in-law had chosen to watch gay porn on the company laptop.”

“Oh God,” I groan. “I’ll tell my dad what I did.”

“It’s all good, Red,” he says. “But just for the record, the only thing I’ve been getting off to lately are thoughts of you.”

He shifts us slightly, and it’s then I realize I’m straddling his lap, and because I’m wearing a pencil skirt, it’s ridden up my thighs, making it so my thin panties are rubbing against Julian’s groin. We both glance down at the same time, and when he looks up at me, our gazes clashing, the molten desire in his eyes is evident.

“You’ve been thinking about me?” I breathe, the heat between us so hot that it’s damn near stifling.

“All the fucking time,” he admits. “And your little skinny-dipping stunt didn’t help.”

Instinctively, I run my hands up his torso, stopping where his tie rests. With my eyes locked with his, I undo the knot and then unbutton the first few buttons, exposing a spattering of chest hair.

I lean in and press an open-mouthed kiss to the top of his pec, and he releases a soft groan. So, I give him another kiss, this time to his clavicle. He moans again. I shift slightly so I can press a kiss to his neck when there’s a knock on his door, followed by someone walking in.

“Oh shit. Sorry!” Dad says, quickly closing the door behind him and effectively ending the moment.

I climb off Julian, and we both take a second to catch our breaths. Technically, nothing happened, yet between his confession and my mouth on his flesh, it feels like the complete opposite.

“I’d better go see what he needs,” Julian says, retying his tie as he stands. He walks over to his chair and puts his jacket back on and then glances at me. “I know we’re both going for the same position, but I don’t want what happened today to happen again. No more dirty play, Red. If I get this position, it will be because I earned it, not because I stepped on you to get there.”

“And what if I get it?” I ask, standing.

“Then, I hope you’ll keep me around because from what I’ve seen so far, you’ll be an asset to this company, and I look forward to working with you in the future.”

My heart swells at his words, at being told for the first time by someone that I’m an asset and not a complete fuckup.

“Now, I need to ask you something,” he says, walking over to me and resting his hand on my hip. “Where do we stand?”

I think about his question for a moment. Had my dad not walked in, I’m almost positive I would’ve had sex with him right here on his couch in his office. I’m attracted to him, and he’s made it clear he feels the same way.

But at the end of the day, could we get past one of us getting the CEO position while the other person doesn’t? I don’t know. What I do know is that I could fall for this man. I’ve never felt this way before, and that scares the shit out of me.

“We’re okay,” I say vaguely, hoping he’ll take that answer for now.

Of course, he doesn’t. “And what does that mean, Ana?”

The shortening of my name causes my stomach to do a flip-flop. My mom was the only one to call me Ana, growing up. My dad hated it, said it sounded plain and that Anastasia sounded professional and important, but she disagreed, saying she loved it because Ana felt softer and more personal. I haven’t heard that name since my mom died, and for some reason, when he says it, it sounds intimate. Like he sees beneath the surface, the same way my mom did.

I want to tell him that I want more and to see where things could go between us, but I’m so overwhelmed by my mixture of emotions that I don’t know how to word what I want to say.

As if he can sense my inner turmoil, he smiles softly. “Okay,” he says. “I get it. You need more time. But just tell me this. Could you see yourself with a man like me?”

“These days, you’re the only man I see.”