Chapter 13
Gabriella
I left the conference room on the verge of tears.
Stupid tears. I was at least glad I hadn’t let Chandler see he broke me.
I quickly walked through the office, mustering up a smile at anyone I passed, until I was in the privacy of the empty women’s bathroom.
I walked to the counter and wrapped my hands around the marble edge, gripping it tightly as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror.
“Stupid girl,” I whispered to myself.
I shook my head, my long hair swishing behind me, tickling the back of my arms in this sleeveless dress.
This dress that I had spent all morning picking out because I wanted to look good for that asshole.
It seemed so stupid now. I wanted to rip the damn thing off, but I doubted walking around the office in my bra and underwear would be a good look.
I was foolish to think that the night we shared meant anything.
That it changed anything. It had felt so mind-numbingly good, that I thought the earth, the moon, and the stars had rearranged.
I had never felt anything like it, and it was what I spent most of my weekend thinking about.
Pleasuring myself to. The sex with Chandler had taken over my mind, so much so that I was excited to see him today.
Excited.
A word I never thought I would say when it came to Chandler White.
But I had known that something had been brewing between us the second I saw him in that coffee shop, not knowing that I would ever see him again.
That electricity vibrated between us in every look, spiteful word, and frustrated sigh.
It was this uncontrollable thing, and I wasn’t sure how we were supposed to go on.
Hating each other, but secretly lusting over each other all the same.
I was so confused by my emotions that couldn’t make up their damn mind.
This wasn’t the time to lose control, either.
Not when the company needed me. Not when I was trying to prove myself.
Not when I needed my father to see how blind he was in choosing a different successor.
No, this was the time to hold it together, but here I was about to cry in the bathroom over a man.
It felt like I didn’t know myself anymore. This wasn’t me.
I gripped the counter even harder, my knuckles turning white as I blinked back the warm tears.
I glanced at the small watch on my wrist. I still had seven more hours to go.
Seven more hours to avoid Chandler. Wasn’t that what he wanted anyway?
It had been a slap in the face when he said we should stick to email or phone calls, like distant strangers.
As if he wasn’t just exploring every intimate part of me.
I gave myself a firm nod in the mirror and pressed my lips into a firm smile.
If that was what he wanted, then that was what he would get.
It wasn’t like we were getting anywhere the way we were doing things before.
He was too stubborn and set in his ways to even listen to me.
I didn’t know why I even tried. A small part of me despised my father for even assigning me to the job.
It was insulting, even though I was sure he saw it as a compliment when he arranged it.
I walked out of the bathroom and headed in the direction of the junior associates who had attended that botched meeting this morning, determined to make things right and to address their concerns.
I was sure there would be many after the way Chandler had handled things.
I realized that my job here was to clean up his messes so I could salvage my father’s legacy.
Eventually, he would see that I was the one who deserved it. He had to.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally packed up my things and left work, careful to avoid going anywhere near Chandler’s office.
I barely saw him the rest of the day, and carefully avoided any looks in his direction when my asshole radar went off.
It had been an exhausting feat and I was ready for a bottle of wine.
As I walked through the door of my apartment, I kicked off my shoes and my feet seemed to give an appreciative sigh of relief as they padded across the cool, wood floor.
I went straight for the kitchen counter and pulled a nice bottle of cabernet from the wine rack, popping the cork and pouring a generous glass.
I took a sip and closed my eyes at the hints of cherry and cedar.
“Mmmm.” I took another sip and headed for my bathroom.
I set the glass of wine on the ledge and drew a steamy bath.
Stripping off my “fuck me” dress, I tossed it far away from me, ashamed by my foolishness.
Once the tub was almost filled to the top, I settled inside and leaned my head back, thoroughly enjoying the hot water that kissed my skin.
I embraced the silence, though I struggled to push Chandler’s face from my mind. Maybe it was better we stayed away from each other. Maybe it would mean he would slowly fade from my memory and we could pretend what happened between us never happened.
But it did happen.
It was like I could still feel his lips against my collarbone. My breasts. My lips.
I sighed before dipping my head into the water, as if it would drown it all out.
It didn’t. I needed to talk to someone. When I came back up for air, I finished washing up and climbed out of the tub.
I grabbed a towel and quickly dried off.
Fishing pajamas out of my drawer, I picked a matching, fuzzy, pink set and slid it on.
Grabbing the bottle of wine from the kitchen, I headed out the door and walked down the hall.
Juliet answered the door in her sweats. She looked from me to the wine, and raised a brow.
“Rough day?” she pushed open the door with her blue nail-polished hand.
“You have no idea,” I muttered, striding in and plopping down on her couch.
She sat down beside me with two wine glasses, and poured us both a generous amount.
“Spill,” she said, handing me a glass.
I took a long sip.
“Chandler and I had sex,” I said.
She nearly spit out her wine. Wide-eyed, she looked at me as she wiped a dribble of wine from her lips.
“I know,” I groaned, sinking into the back of the couch.
“When? Why? How? I have so many questions.”
“Three days ago. It just happened.”
“Riding a cock doesn’t just happen…” she said.
“Juliet!” I squealed, looking for a pillow to hurl at her.
She laughed and put her hands up in defense as the throw pillow gently hit her.
“I’m just confused. You hate the guy.”
“Maybe it was hate sex.” I shrugged.
“Sexy.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“You have no idea.” I felt my cheeks heat up.
“That good?” she asked curiously.
“Mind-numbingly, toe-curling, screaming kind of good,” I said, taking another sip of wine.
“Shit,” she said. “We might need to open another bottle.”
I groaned and shut my eyes. “Why did I do this to myself?”
“Because he’s hot. ‘Sex on a stick’ I believe you said before.” Juliet laughed.
“But he’s a total asshole!” I squealed.
“Yeah,” said Juliet thoughtfully as she swirled her wine in her glass. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you should be careful, Gabs.”
“Nothing is going on. He made that abundantly clear today.”
“Well, maybe it’s better that way. You got him out of your system, and now you can focus on work.”
“It’s hard to focus on anything else,” I said, shaking my head.
“Don’t let him lose sight of what you’re really after. He’s an ass. Sure, he has a big dick, but that doesn’t mean he’s a good person. Or a good CEO.”
“Yeah,” I said softly.
“Your dad will see that eventually. Chandler can’t keep up his facade forever. Your dad has to see his true colors. He’s a smart man.”
“I’m beginning to question that lately…”
“Just give him time to figure it out. Men don’t like admitting their mistakes.”
“True.” I nodded, though I wasn’t totally convinced by my friend’s optimism. Even if my father did realize he had made a mistake, the damage was done. He had chosen a stranger over me. As much as I tried to understand why, I couldn’t. The wound was still fresh, and I wondered if it would ever heal.
As if Juliet could see my swarm of thoughts playing over my face, she leaned in and pulled me in for a hug.
“I’m sorry, Gabs,” she said. Pulling away, she clapped her hands and said, “We need more wine. And pizza.” She stood up and strode toward the kitchen to rummage through her takeout menus. I smiled at her, thankful to have a friend to help talk me off my ledge.
The next morning, I woke up nursing a small hangover and desperately reached for the water on my nightstand.
I chugged the entire bottle, and when I felt like my head wasn’t going to cave in, I started getting ready for work.
On the way, I stopped at the coffee shop to grab two lattes.
A hot one for now, and an iced one for when I would imminently need it in a few hours.
Two bottles of wine had been a bad choice, but staying up late into the night talking to Juliet hadn’t been. I needed the girl talk, even though it was now having its repercussions. I felt better about the situation with Chandler, determined to forget about him and focus on my job.
I was also ready to talk to my father. It had been a long time coming, and I knew he had been carefully avoiding getting into it. But enough time had passed. I was glad to see him in the office this morning and there was no sign of Chandler to come interrupt like he was so fond of doing.
We sat down in my office.
“What is this about, Gabriella?” he asked, looking around the room as if completely oblivious to what I would want to speak with him about.
My anger rose in me, and while I had every intention of remaining calm and being the sophisticated woman I wanted to be, I simply couldn’t.
The words came out of me before I could stop them.
“Why did you put that man in charge?” I demanded.
He sighed, as if knowing this was exactly where the conversation had been heading. He pinched the bridge of his nose in silent frustration.
“You have to give me an answer,” I said. “I deserve that much.”
“Can’t you see it’s for the good of the company?” he pleaded.
“No, I can’t see that. I’m good for this company.”
He shook his head slightly, looking past my shoulder and out the window thoughtfully. I wished I could shake him, make him see that I was right here. He didn’t need anyone else. Why was he so adamant about letting Chandler take something so rightfully mine?
“I wish you would just give him a chance…” he murmured.
His brow furrowed slightly and it was in that moment I could see just how old my father was getting.
The wrinkles that crinkled around his eyes and the impressions that remained in his forehead when he was troubled.
A part of me hated that we were arguing.
I shook my head slightly, anger and sadness pitting in my stomach.
He wasn’t answering my questions, and I was starting to wonder if I would ever get an explanation.
I wondered if I could go on working here without one.
If my father and I were ever going to heal, I would have to move on, but I didn’t think I could.
“It’s for the best for all of us,” he said, his eyes meeting mine firmly.