Ashlei
“You can do this,” Skyler assures me on the phone as I press the button that will take me up to Brandon’s penthouse.
“You sure about that?”
“He loves you, Lei. Remember? He’s not going to walk away from you.”
I sigh, leaning my head back against the elevator wall and praying the call doesn’t drop on the way up. I need Skyler’s voice to keep me calm. “I’m such a fucking handful. Why would he stay? After what happened in the spring… and now this…”
“This was not your fault. And dating your boss is not a crime, however taboo it may be.”
I shake my head. “I’m trying to put myself in his shoes, if he came to me with this. And I gotta say… I wouldn’t be happy.”
“Look, he might be mad, okay? He might be hurt. But, again, he loves you. He’s not going anywhere. You two are a team, and you’ll figure this out together. Right?”
Silence.
“Lei, I need you to say it.”
I sigh. “Right.”
The elevator dings, and I force a slow exhale. “I’ll call you after.”
“You’ve got this,” she says again, and then I end the call just as the elevator doors open.
Brandon’s penthouse is unlike any place I’ve ever been in my life. The first time he brought me here, I had stood in this very elevator and gaped at the expansive space for what felt like an hour while he watched me and chuckled to himself.
The skyrise is right on the bay, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook Miami’s beaches and beautiful teal water.
His floors are a polished white marble, and the exposed air ducts and concrete give it an industrial feel like a New York apartment, but with the elegance and heat of Florida.
He’d hired an interior designer to bring his vision to life, which was to make the entire place feel like an art museum.
And it’s not just the breathtaking art that decorates the walls.
Each piece of furniture, each vase, each light fixture — every single aspect of the apartment is art.
And as soon as you walk in, you’re part of the show, too.
Tonight, with the soft glow of candles and the fireplace in the center wall where the sitting room is, you can’t even see the beaches or the water at all. Instead, it’s dark outside the windows, save for the few boats in the distance.
And Brandon is sitting on the couch in front of the fire, scotch in hand, his eyes watching the flames and one ankle crossed over his knee.
It’s Friday evening, so it doesn’t surprise me that he’s still in the same chocolate dress slacks and ice-blue button up that he wore at the office today. Even on casual Friday, the man always dressed to impress.
He was the boss, after all.
“Hey,” I say tentatively, setting my purse on the kitchen counter before I make my way over to him.
I seem to shake him out of a spell, and he looks up at me with glazed eyes, accepting the kiss I bend to press on his lips.
“Thanks for letting me come over,” I say, folding my hands in my lap once I’m seated next to him.
He nods, but otherwise doesn’t say a word, his eyes back on the flames of the fire. I can’t blame him for drinking and avoiding eye contact. After all, who responds well to the dreaded words…
We need to talk.
I sigh. “Brandon, something happened that I need you to know about. And it’s going to sound crazy, but you have to believe—”
“I already know.”
My mouth is still open, ready to recite the speech I’d practiced with Skyler all week — the one where I explain how Sophie had been quietly hitting on me, how she’d plotted out a way to get me alone, how she’d kissed me and made sure to get it on film.
I was fully ready to get him prepared and on my side, ready to fight her attempt to take me down.
But those words are all stuck in my throat now, and confusion sweeps over me instead.
“What?”
“You and Sophie made out,” he said, taking a sip of his scotch and hissing through his teeth.
“Um…” I think I’m in shock. I think my heart might actually give out. “Well, that’s not exactly what happened, but—”
“It’s not?” Brandon challenges, his eyes finding mine. “Because I saw the video, and I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what happened.”
Confusion turns to defensiveness in my chest as his scowl deepens, and I frown right back. “Why do I feel under attack right now?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you kissed our intern? Maybe because you cheated on me? Maybe because you waited over a week and until I already knew to tell me about it?”
My jaw drops. “Okay, first of all, she kissed me. I did not kiss her. And I certainly didn’t cheat on you.”
“No? What is it called when you kiss someone who isn’t your boyfriend?”
I grind my teeth together, heart racing in my chest. “I didn’t kiss—”
“Goddamnit, Ashlei,” he yells, standing and slamming his glass onto the coffee table. What’s left of the amber liquid inside sloshes out onto the wood, and Brandon threads his hands over his head, pacing until he’s staring out the massive windows over the dark beach.
I just watch him, breath shallow, mind racing trying to catch up.
“I saw the video,” he says quietly, turning to face me as his hands slowly come down.
“She might have made the move. She might have been the one to lean in. But let me tell you, I’ve been in that position — when a woman makes a move on me that’s unwanted.
And what I do in those situations and what you did are vastly different.
I pull away. I quickly tell them they are out of line.
I remind them I’m happily taken, and that they need to respect my boundaries. ”
“I did the same thing. I told her to stay away from me, I asked her what the hell she was doing.”
“After you kissed her and grabbed her blouse and moaned like your panties were fucking soaked.”
I blink, over and over, my mouth hanging open.
Brandon just shakes his head, turning back toward the window. “We don’t have anything to discuss. I took care of it.”
“Took… took care of it?”
“Sophie came into my office earlier this week and showed me the video,” he says, turning to look me in the eyes when he nails me with those words.
“She knew what she was doing. She wanted to blackmail you, to blackmail me. She said it was sexual harassment and that I had until the end of the week to fire you and hire her, or she’d blast it to every news station in the city. ”
I stand, picking up the nearest pillow and chucking it across the room. “That little bitch!”
Brandon just holds up his hands, closing his eyes and forcing a breath like I’m a petulant little child he’s highly annoyed with. “Like I said, it’s handled.”
“How?”
“Well, lucky for you, we record every call our interns make. I had MyKayla scrub all her calls to see if she could find something, and though Sophie might be cunning, she’s also conceited. And she told her entire plan to one of her friends on her work cell.”
I smirk. “Stupid cunt.”
Brandon watches me for a long moment, like he can’t believe me, like he doesn’t know who it is standing in his living room at all.
“So, she has nothing,” I say.
“She has nothing,” he echoes. “I played the call for her and told her if she left quietly, I’d write her a letter of recommendation.”
“What?” I shake my head, crossing the room to where he is. “Why would you do that?”
“To save your ass!”
My head snaps back at his words, but he’s already turned away from me, scrubbing his hand over his face with his eyes focused somewhere on the water.
I sigh, closing my eyes. I knew this was going to suck, and I was right. Still, relief washes through me that Brandon handled it.
I don’t know why I’m surprised, why I ever thought he wouldn’t.
We’re a team, just like Skyler said.
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I rest my cheek on his back, holding him to me. “I’m so sorry this happened. Thank you for handling it.”
It’s quiet after that but for the crackling of the fire, and I take what feels like my first breath in ages.
“Well, now that that’s over with,” I say, rounding until I’m standing between him and the window. I thread my arms around his neck, kissing his chin. “Are you ready for your first sorority event tomorrow?” I chuckle. “The girls are going to lose their shit when you show up to semi-formal.”
Brandon’s jaw ticks, but otherwise there’s no response, and my stomach drops with the silence.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think we should take a break.”
My heart stops. “A… a break?”
Brandon closes his eyes, grabbing my hands where they rest behind his neck and peeling them off of him. “Ashlei,” he says when his eyes open again. “Consider this your two-week notice to Okay, Cool.”
Again, I find myself blinking repeatedly, as if I can erase what he just said with my lashes. “You’re firing me?”
“No. You’re resigning. Because you have opportunities elsewhere,” he says, looking away from me. He crosses back to the coffee table and picks up what’s left of his scotch. “That’s the story we’re telling. And if you go with it, I’ll give you a letter of recommendation to take with you, too.”
“A letter of rec—” I nearly vomit, my desperation propelling me forward until I’m in front of Brandon again, my hands around his bicep, urging him to look at me. “Brandon. I don’t want a fucking letter of recommendation. I want you.” Panic sears through me. “I want us.”
He closes his eyes, and I see the emotion strangling him just as it is me.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Brandon grits his teeth at my words, looking up at the ceiling, but I grab his chin and force him to look me in the eyes.
“She kissed me.”
“Yes. She did,” he agrees. “But you’re lying to both of us if you say you didn’t kiss her back.”
I shake my head, tears flooding my eyes in an instant and spilling out over my cheeks before I can even think to stop them. The panic I felt before is a full-on storm now, swirling in my chest, crackling like lightning in my heart, the thunder so loud in my ears I can’t hear his words through it.
“It was a mistake,” I cry, holding onto him tighter. “I love you.”
Tears gloss his eyes, but he rips away from me before they fall, leaving me standing in the middle of his living room as he storms across the marble back to his bedroom. “You should leave.”
“Brandon,” I plead.
And then, in one swift moment, he launches his glass across the room.
It hits the corner of the kitchen island and shatters, making me scream and jump back, covering my mouth with eyes as big as saucers.
“GET. OUT.” His chest is heaving when his gaze finds me. “NOW!”
I press my other hand over my mouth, crying so hard my chest burns.
“You said you’d never break me,” he chokes out, turning away from me before his emotion can show. “And you fucking lied.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Get out,” he says, and then he starts beating his fist on the window. “Get out, get out, get out, GET OUT!”
I bite my lip as more tears trickle over my cheeks, but there’s no use in trying to make him understand now. All I can do is leave him alone, like he’s asking me to.
I rush to the kitchen counter and grab my purse, not even trying to be careful to avoid the glass. At this point, if I get cut, I deserve it.
I deserve every ounce of pain I’m feeling right now.
It doesn’t take long for the elevator to ascend, and then I’m in it, and my back is to the wall, eyes on where Brandon stands across the penthouse. He has one hand on the giant window and the other scrubbing back over his head, his shoulders tense and rigid.
He turns just as the elevator doors begin to shut, and he forces a breath, covering his mouth with his hand as the first tear falls down his perfect face.
My eyes close before the doors do.
I can’t bear to see the pain I’ve caused.
I can’t bear to watch the only man I’ve ever loved cry because of me.
And on the way down, I realize it doesn’t matter if I watch or not. It’s still real. It’s still happening. It’s still true.
I’ve lost him.
And I know before the doors open again that I’ll never get him back.