The Wrong Boss (Manhattan Billionaires #6)

1. Carrie

ONE

CARRIE

The bride let out an ear-splitting shriek mere moments before wrapping me in a viselike hug. “Carrie!” my cousin and best friend Hailey exclaimed, breathless. “You’re saying you finally did it?”

I pulled away and arched a brow. “Hold on a minute. You’re making it sound like you’ve been waiting for me to break up with Derek for ages.”

“Longer than ages. Eons. An eternity.” She squeezed my arms, her fresh manicure digging into my triceps. “I’ve been waiting for you to drop that jerk from your life since that night in undergrad when he told you your sequined handkerchief top was trashy.”

I held back my wince at the memory. The shame that had burned through me that night was still the beginning of a campaign to chip away at my self-esteem. Derek’s words—those and many more like them—were etched on my psyche, and it had happened so long ago. I never did wear that top again. That had only been the beginning of Derek’s snide, razor-sharp comments. I concealed the remnants of humiliation behind a grin. “That was six years ago.”

My cousin nodded. “Exactly.” She wore a satiny white dressing gown, and her hair was sectioned and wrapped around Velcro rollers. A makeup artist laid out her tools in the corner of the room, but Hailey paid her no mind. My cousin’s liquid brown eyes were on me as she said, “Please don’t go back to him, Carrie. Please. I’m begging you.”

“Isn’t today supposed to be about love and commitment?” I tried to shrug her hands away and gave her a sardonic smile. “You’re getting married in just a few hours and you’re telling me to stay single.”

She lifted her index finger and pointed it at me, her beautiful fresh nails ready to be photographed alongside the new wedding band that would soon join her engagement ring. “Don’t do that. We’re not deflecting right now.”

“Fine. But can we please talk about something else?”

“Sure. Just as soon as you promise that Derek will never again stink up your life with his foul, dirty socks.”

I bit my lip to hide my smile, and Hailey’s sparkling eyes told me she knew she’d won the argument. “I hated finding his socks everywhere,” I admitted.

“I hated that you gave up and started picking up after him instead of laying down the law like you usually do.”

“He broke my spirit,” I said, meaning for it to sound like a joke. It came out slightly wobbly, though, and Hailey saw right through me .

“Never again,” she intoned.

“Never again,” I echoed.

Then my cousin smiled at me, squeezed me in another bone-crushing hug, and turned to the other bridesmaids in the room to announce, “We need more champagne!”

I was swept up into the chatter, laughter, and chaos of wedding preparations. The maid of honor was Hailey’s sister and my elder cousin, Julie. She made sure my glass was topped up with bubbles as the hairstylist tackled my mane of thick brown hair.

“I’m happy for you,” Julie told me for the millionth time.

I laughed. “Did anyone like Derek?”

Julie gave me a flat look, which made me laugh harder. The lightness that had filled me as I drove away from Derek’s and my shared apartment in Philadelphia, my old car bursting with all my worldly possessions, swept through me again. Never again would I have to listen to Derek judge my outfits, or my hair, or the way I cut my steak. Never again would I have to pretend to enjoy bitter, overly hoppy IPAs when all I wanted was a sweet, fruity cocktail with an umbrella and a maraschino cherry in it. Never again would I have to cancel plans with girlfriends because Derek moped about being left alone at home.

The anchor chain around my waist was gone.

I could finally pursue my career. I could move to New York City, just like I’d dreamed since my freshman year of undergrad. I could have sex again! Real, hot sex with a man who listened to my needs—assuming I could find one. Did men like that exist anywhere outside of the romance novels I’d hidden from Derek’s prying eyes? I met my own gaze in the mirror as the hairstylist smoothed my hair into a bouncy blowout. In my new reality, men like that existed, and I would find one. Eventually. When I was ready.

Because I was free . I could do anything .

“I really wasted all those years of my life with him, didn’t I?”

“They won’t be wasted if you learned from them,” Julie said, a moment before being called away to use her extra-dexterous fingers to help with the thousand buttons marching up the back of Hailey’s dress.

I smiled at the stylist in the mirror as she sprayed my hair into submission. Bubbles of champagne burst on my tongue as I sipped my drink. My shoulders relaxed, and I let a smile curl my lips.

Freedom tasted good , and the champagne wasn’t bad either.

“All done!” the stylist told me, using her fingers to position the front pieces of my hair just so. She squeezed my shoulders and moved on to the next bridesmaid, and I set my glass down while one of the makeup artists approached. Hailey’s bridesmaids chattered and laughed. The door opened and closed, and I heard my aunt Jackie’s scratchy voice behind me just a moment before she appeared in the mirror.

“Heard you finally did it,” she said, grinning at me. Her makeup and hair were already done, and she wore a gorgeous dark-blue mother-of-the-bride dress with a boat neck and a perfect bias cut. “Saw all that junk in your car and Hailey told me you finally left that useless lump of meat. I think I’m prouder than the day you graduated college. ”

“All right, all right, I get it,” I replied, huffing. “Derek was no good. Can we please move on?”

“We just want to make sure you know we approve,” Hailey called out from her chair.

The makeup artist smiled at us as she waited for Hailey to face forward again so she could glue false eyelashes on. “Sounds like there’s a story here,” the artist said.

I watched her place the lashes with expert care, but it was Julie who cut in and said: “There are a hundred stories. None of them are good.”

I met my own makeup artist’s gaze as she approached with a clean sponge and a bottle of foundation. “You know, I really could have used this pep talk earlier. Why didn’t any of you tell me what you really thought of Derek?”

“You’ve got your mother’s stubborn streak,” Aunt Jackie said. “No use telling you anything before you come to it on your own.”

A chorus of agreement sounded from all corners of the room, and I tilted my head in reluctant agreement. There were a few times, after bad fights, when I’d called Hailey to vent my frustrations. She’d tried to gently suggest that the relationship might not be working, and I’d shut down. After all, I’d spent most of my twenties with Derek; wasn’t I in too deep to turn back? I wanted a family, and what if I never found someone to have it with? Wasn’t it better to stick with the imperfect relationship I knew?

Now, with the benefit of hindsight—fresh as it might have been—I realized I’d been wrong. It felt too good to be free of my ex’s judgmental presence to think that breaking up with him had been anything but the right decision. Time would tell whether it would work out in the long run. Maybe my fears would come true. Maybe I’d never meet anyone who wanted to start a family with me. Maybe having kids and a husband and a quiet, simple, happy life wasn’t in the cards for me. Maybe hot men who truly cared about their partner’s pleasure only existed in books.

But I’d deal with that later. It was my favorite cousin’s wedding, I was single, I was free, and I wouldn’t let myself get bogged down with thoughts of the future. Breaking up with my ex had been the hardest thing I’d ever done—but it was done.

The makeup artist dusted a tiny bit of powder under my eyes, then stepped back and smiled. “Gorgeous.”

I stared at myself in the mirror, straightening my spine. Ducking behind a screen to put on the dress Hailey had chosen for us, I was careful not to disturb my hair or makeup as the slinky, silky peach dress slipped over my skin. The straps were spaghetti-thin. It was a backless dress, with the straps crisscrossing all the way down to nearly the base of my spine, and I was grateful that my small breasts didn’t require any kind of support.

Derek’s voice popped into my head as I adjusted the fabric over my chest: “You should get a boob job. I’ll pay for it,” he’d told me just moments after rolling off me the last time we’d slept together, which had been nearly five months ago. He’d pawed at my chest, gathering up the small amount of flesh in his palm before catching the horrified expression on my face, immediately rearing back. “What?” he’d protested. “You know how flat you are. You’d look way better with bigger tits. You can’t look at me like that and tell me I’m wrong. Your saving grace is your ass, Carrie. You know it’s true.”

Instead of breaking up with him right then and there, I’d researched breast augmentations with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not because I judged anyone for their cosmetic surgery choices, but because deep down, I didn’t want to go under the knife because my boyfriend found me lacking.

I shook off the memory and the shame that still accompanied my reaction to his words. I’d been so twisted up by our relationship, by him, that I’d lost sight of who I was.

No more. I would learn to love myself again, small breasts and all.

A wolf whistle greeted me as I walked out from behind the screen. Hailey beamed at me and announced, “I think we should find someone for Carrie to hook up with tonight.”

“Hailey Jane Benson,” Aunt Jackie snapped. “Today is your wedding day.”

“Yeah, my wedding,” Hailey quipped, grinning. “It’s also the first day of the rest of Carrie’s life.”

“Let’s just focus on getting you down the aisle on time,” I said, checking my hair in one of the many mirrors in the room before finding and slipping on the pair of cream heeled sandals to finish the outfit. The back strap of the shoe hit a fresh blister on my heel, and I frowned down at it. That would be sore by the end of the night.

“We can focus on more than one thing,” Hailey pointed out.

“Aren’t a couple of Seth’s groomsmen single?” Julie asked, naming Hailey’s college sweetheart and husband-to-be.

“They are,” Hailey replied, wiggling her eyebrows at me .

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. My cousins always managed to cheer me up, and today was no exception. It’s not that I wanted to sleep with someone else right away. It’s that I could . If I wanted to. Which I wasn’t sure I did. But the thought was a dangling thread of possibility just waiting to be tugged. What would unravel if I gave in to temptation?

The smart thing to do would be to take some time to heal. I knew I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I probably wasn’t even ready for a rebound. I needed to get to know myself, to figure out why I’d let myself be treated like crap for so many years. Derek had found every crack in my confidence and wriggled his way into the very heart of my insecurities. He’d made me feel weak.

What if I fell for a charming, cruel man again? What if I learned nothing from the first serious relationship of my life?

Suddenly the chatter and noise in the bridal suite felt oppressive. I needed some air—needed to get away from all the well-meaning comments. “I’m going to go check on preparations downstairs,” I announced to the room at large.

“Come back with a few bottles of champagne!” Julie called out.

Nodding, I pulled open the door, stepped into the hotel hallway, and let the noise of the wedding preparations go silent behind me with the snicking of the latch.

A long sigh slipped through my lips. I was lighter, yes. I was happy to be free of my ex. I was ecstatic for Hailey and grateful to be able to celebrate her wedding.

But it was a whirlwind, and I needed to get my feet back on the ground .

Inhaling deeply, I called the elevator. Once I was downstairs, I poked my head into the ballroom that would house the reception, watching the caterers and DJ set up under the watchful eye of Hailey’s wedding planner. My heel’s strap rubbed against the wound on my foot as I made my way across the hall to the ceremony space, and I leaned a hand against the wall to adjust it. Once my shoe stopped rubbing at my worsening blister, I glanced at the ceremony space and smiled at my uncle Greg, who was helping one of the workers adjust the lights that would illuminate Hailey and Seth.

Hailey would have a gorgeous wedding. My shoulders relaxed, but I only made it a few steps before the pain of my blister had me clicking my tongue. Glancing down at the wound, I huffed a sigh at the red skin. That’s what I got for shoving my feet into the uncomfortable flats I hadn’t yet broken in when I was in a rush to pack and get out of my apartment. Then I drove all the way to New Jersey in them, exacerbating the issue.

Small price to pay to escape the relationship, I told myself.

“Hey, kiddo,” my uncle said, curling an arm around my shoulders. “Jackie told me you finally dumped the dead weight.”

I gave him a half-smile. “Not you too. I had to escape the bridal suite to get away from everyone’s comments about my breakup.”

He squeezed my shoulder and let his arm drop, having reached the extent of his brand of physical closeness. Uncle Greg wasn’t a touchy-feely man, but he’d always been there when I needed him. When my mom passed, Jackie had been a mess, and it was Greg who stepped up and kept us all afloat. They were like surrogate parents to me—as much as anyone could be. My father had left when I was young, and my mother had passed right before I graduated high school. I don’t know what I would have done without my aunt and uncle—and without Hailey and Julie. I probably never would have worked up the strength to leave Derek without having them to fall back on.

Smoothing his hand over his white mustache, Greg winked at me. “Always thought you could do better than him.”

“You and everyone else, apparently. And yet no one seemed to want to tell me what they really thought at some point over the past six-odd years.”

“We had to let you come to your own conclusions,” he said. “You’ve always been your mother’s daughter.”

A pinch in my heart was a familiar remnant of my grief, but I managed to smile through it. “You calling me stubborn?”

“Muleheaded as all heck,” he confirmed shamelessly, laughing. “When Jackie introduced me to her sister, I was relieved I got the nice one.”

“Aunt Jackie’s the nice one?” I quipped back, skeptical.

Greg chucked my chin. “You’re all cut from the same cloth,” he said. “Same as my daughters. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” His eyes were soft as he added, “You girls have everything you need up there? Planner’s getting on my case about starting on time. She said we’ve got less than an hour to get everyone seated.”

“I’m getting some more champagne for the room,” I told him. “But maybe I’ll just wrangle everyone and get them downstairs instead. ”

“Smart,” Uncle Greg replied. The wedding planner appeared in the reception doorway and called his name, and I waved him off with a smile.

I took a step toward the elevator, then winced. I wouldn’t be able to walk down the aisle with this blister, let alone dance the afternoon and evening away. Changing directions, I headed for the lobby. The front desk would probably have bandages, but I knew I had special blister bandages in the box of toiletries I’d hastily packed and stuffed into the back of my car. That and medical tape would mean that I wouldn’t have to worry about slicing my wound open when all I wanted to do was dance and let loose.

Plan made, I hobbled toward the revolving glass doors and made my way toward the parking lot. The air outside was thick as soup, with summer hanging heavy in the air. Not wanting to be outside in the muggy heat too long, I hurried around the corner—and froze.

Someone was standing next to my car.

No. Not standing.

Someone was breaking into my car.

Just. My. Luck.

Moving faster, I stumbled over some loose gravel in time to hear the tinkling of broken glass against asphalt as whoever-it-was smashed my back window.

Of all the days for something like this to happen. Wasn’t this just great ? A breakup followed by a night spent hastily packing all my things while dodging Derek’s vitriol, and then a frantic drive from Philly to Newark to make it to the wedding on time, and now this .

I looked at the ragged creature hunched behind my vehicle, and I felt the keen edge of my freedom, my life , trying to slice me open one last time. After all the years of emotional and verbal abuse. All the ways I’d made myself smaller to fit into the box Derek made for me. All the dreams I’d set aside.

Now some jerk was going to rob me? On my favorite cousin’s wedding day?

I just—couldn’t let it happen. I was so sick of being taken advantage of. Sick of being beaten down. No one was going to break into my car and steal my stuff.

I wasn’t small, or weak, or scared.

For the first time in a long, long time, I was angry . Furious at myself for allowing Derek to treat me the way he had. Enraged that it had taken me so long to leave him. Incensed that some asshole saw all my belongings and decided he’d help himself.

“Hey!” I yelled.

The man looked up. He wore a dingy gray hoodie and a black baseball cap. I couldn’t see much of his features at this distance except for a scraggly beard and hollow cheeks, but he saw me hobble-sprinting in his direction, and I could tell there was a calculation happening behind his eyes.

There was no way I’d win in a fight between the two of us. I was downright scrawny, and he looked street-hardened and mean.

But that was my car he was breaking into. My worldly possessions he was trying to steal.

Hell. No.

His arm reached in through the broken back window.

“Put it back!” I yelled, arms pumping as I ran toward him. My heels clacked against the asphalt, but it didn’t matter that my footwear wasn’t appropriate for a street fight. “Put that back right now!”

He glanced up at me again—and smiled. He smiled . Brown, broken teeth cut a jagged line across his mouth, and the first inkling of fear trickled through me. My anger burned it away.

Momentum still propelled me forward, and I was too far gone to stop. Too enraged by the sight of him trying to steal from me. Too tired of people walking all over me when all I wanted was a good, modest life.

I’d never asked for much. All I wanted was a decent relationship, a steady job, and eventually a couple of kids and the quiet sort of happiness that came from a life of simple pleasures. I wanted contentment. I didn’t need money or glamour or fame.

And yet.

And yet at every turn, life drop-kicked me in the ass. I was over it .

I’d fight him. I’d fight a drug-addicted, desperate person for whatever he’d stolen while I wore a beautiful bridesmaid’s dress, because it was wrong . It might ruin my cousin’s wedding. It might delay the strict start time. It might land me in the hospital.

But I was so fucking sick of feeling powerless that I couldn’t stop. Good sense fled my mind and was replaced with white-hot rage.

Rage that exploded into something bigger when I saw what the thief held in his fist. My hand-carved teak memory box dangled from his hand. Broken, dirty fingernails clutched the intricate carvings on the lid, and horror swept through me.

Not that box. He couldn’t take it. Anything but that box. It didn’t even have anything valuable in it, other than a single earring missing its twin.

But it was valuable to me. It had the ticket stubs from my monthly movie dates with Mom. A card from my thirteenth birthday when she’d written me a note that never failed to make me cry. A photo of her holding me in the hospital, minutes after I’d been born.

That box held everything I cared about. It carried the last remnants of my mother’s relationship with me. It was everything I had left of her.

“Put it back!” I repeated, voice breaking.

The man set his shoulders. His smile widened, and now I was close enough to see the devil in his eyes. He stuffed the box in his hoodie pocket and widened his stance. His beard was greasy, and his cheeks were sunken and pale. Whoever he was, he was deep in the mire of an addiction.

I couldn’t fight him. If I did, I would lose.

But I couldn’t not fight him. I couldn’t let him get away with the only scraps I had left of my mother.

“It doesn’t even have anything worth taking in it,” I said, slowing to a stop near the hood of my car. The length of the vehicle separated us.

“Pretty box full of pretty things,” he replied.

“Please.”

“Come closer and ask me nicely.” He reached into his pocket and took out the box, waving it back and forth. Taunting me.

Vision blurring with tears, I curled my hands into fists. I was wearing sandals with a four-inch heel and a satin dress, and my hair and makeup had been perfected by professionals. I didn’t know how to fight—let alone fight someone who looked like they ate desperation for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

But the wooden box waved back and forth, and the addict’s taunting, broken smile pierced me like the tip of a poisoned lance.

The pain of it shook my bones, and I knew what I had to do. That box meant more to me than anything. I’d put myself in the hospital if I had to. I’d get on my knees and beg for forgiveness if I ended up ruining Hailey’s wedding, as long as I got that box back.

I wasn’t going to let this man walk away with it. Not when this was supposed to be my fresh start, when I had nowhere to live after this weekend, no one to lean on, nowhere to go. Not when my past was a graveyard of mistakes, when everyone took great glee in telling me that they’d known my only long-term relationship was terrible right from the start.

I didn’t care about anything in that car. Not really. Nothing except that hand-carved teak box containing scraps of paper and a single little earring.

Calm descended over me. I let my knees go soft, and I prepared myself to go into battle. The man holding my memory box smiled wider, slipping my most treasured possession back into his pocket. Then he made a little flick with his fingers, a “come at me” gesture that told me he was enjoying himself, and I knew this was it.

I exploded into movement. It would only take a second to reach him, and then he’d know that he underestimated me.

Just like Derek. Just like my aunt and uncle and cousins who didn’t think I could handle the truth. Like the bosses who had passed me over for promotions, the colleagues who had dismissed my ideas because I was just a silly little administrator in their big, fancy company.

I would not let this dirty, drug-addled thief underestimate me too.

But just as I started running at him, the man’s gaze shifted to look over my shoulder. His eyes widened, and by the time I reached my back bumper, he’d spun on his dirty sneakers and was sprinting halfway across the parking lot, my box of treasures gripped in his grimy fist.

A wordless, rage-filled yell tore through my throat. Then I heard the pounding footsteps.

A moment after that, a man dressed all in black went sprinting past me, chasing the degenerate who’d stolen the last pieces of my mother. Startled, I stared at the sharp line of his jaw as he sprinted past, his dark hair fluttering off his forehead. Then all I could see was the back of him, spine straight, arms pumping, shiny black shoes pounding the pavement as he chased the thief.

“Who the hell are you ?” I yelled, even though it didn’t matter. Hopping as pain lanced through the back of my heel—stupid blister—I set my jaw and redoubled my pace.

Whoever he was, he’d scared away the thief and lost me my chance at getting my memory box back. So either he would help me get it back, or he’d get a piece of my mind. Wisps of anger fluttered around me as I attempted to follow the two men. With every step, I fell behind.

Despair caught me in its grip. The thief was turning a corner and moving out of sight, and the man in black didn’t seem to be gaining any ground. I had to catch them. Had to .

But fate had other ideas. As I put on a burst of speed—the final bit of energy I had left—my spike heel got stuck in a storm drain, my ankle rolled, and I face-planted in the middle of the hotel parking lot.