Boss Next Door Page 23

  “Have I done something wrong?” I finally ask.

  “You tell me, Chloe,” he snaps. “We have a meeting with Braxton in ten minutes. He specifically asked that you be there. What is this about?”

  I take a sip of coffee, doing my best to control the fluttering in my belly. “How would I know? I didn’t call the meeting.”

  “Don’t get cute with me,” he snarls.

  “I’m serious, Curtis,” I insist. “I have no idea what this meeting is about.”

  I’m not somebody who likes to lie and will avoid it whenever possible. But I think in this case, it’s warranted. I really don’t relish the thought of engaging in an all-out fight with Curtis without having somebody to back me up – somebody like Braxton.

  I’m not a damsel in distress who needs saving at every turn, but technically speaking, Curtis is my boss, and he could – again, technically speaking – fire me. I think the only reason he hasn’t is because he’s afraid of Braxton. And probably for good reason – Braxton doesn’t go out of his way to hide his disdain for him.

  But in theory, Curtis could make up all kinds of stories about me being insubordinate or whatever he wanted to say – anything he wanted to give him just cause to fire me. He could create stories out of whole cloth and without anybody there as a witness, it’s my word against his. I consider wanting somebody there to back me up and prevent me from being unfairly fired simply logical and practical.

  “You know, ever since you started here, you’ve been working to undermine me,” he hisses. “I’ve seen what you’ve been doing. I know you’re trying to get in good with Braxton.”

  “What are you talking about?” I gasp.

  “Oh please,” he sneers. “I’ve seen the way you shake your tits and ass at him. It’s obvious you think those will get you what you want.”

  Could he know about us? Have I been that obvious? Both he and I have tried to keep things on the downlow. We don’t openly flirt at the office, and on the surface, he treats me no different than anybody else around here. Or am I being naïve to think that? Or maybe, I’m so freaked out about the fact that I slept with Braxton again that I’m letting myself be paranoid.

  It’s just another reason I can’t let it happen again. I just can’t. I want my reputation to be built on solid work and mutual respect; I don’t want anybody thinking I got to where I am – or where I want to go – because I screwed my way to the top.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re seeing, but you’re wrong,” I say a bit more shakily than I would have liked. “And this conversation is wholly inappropriate. I could go to HR with this right now. And I probably should.”

  He opens his mouth to speak but then closes it again, obviously knowing I’m right and thinking twice about his next statement. Curtis is a lot of things, but he’s not stupid – and he has a keen sense of self-preservation. He just knows whose ass to kiss and who he can crap all over.

  “What is this meeting about?” he repeats his question.

  “Again, I have no idea.”

  “I don’t believe you,” he declares.

  “Then I don’t know what to tell you, Curtis,” I respond.

  He lets out a loud breath and sits back in his seat. I know what he’s thinking – walking into a meeting without knowing the lay of the land makes him nervous. He already doesn’t like or trust me, and if he really thinks I’ve been actively working to undermine him, then that’s going to put him on guard even more since he believes he’s walking into an ambush. And I suppose he is. But it’s not my place to say anything. I’m a junior designer here and matters of management are above my pay grade.

  It’s the one benefit I can see to being low man on the totem pole.

  He runs a hand through his hair, and I can see the wheels still spinning in his head. He doesn’t like walking in blind like this. But time’s up, and he knows he has no say in the matter.

  “Fine. It’ll all come out here in a minute anyway,” he grumps.

  “Yes it will.”

  “Go,” he commands. “I’ll meet you there.”

  Without another word, I get up and practically sprint out of Curtis’ office. I don’t like being around him on a good day. On days like today, I really give thought to walking out and starting yet another career as a barista, after all.

  Ignoring the questioning glances of my teammates, I head out of our pod and quickly make my way to the other side of the building. Braxton is on the phone when I knock on the door, and he waves me in. Pushing through the door, I cross his office and drop down into one of the chairs in front of his desk, waiting patiently as he finishes up his call.

  “Good morning,” he says, dropping his headset onto his desk.

  “Might not be one in a couple of minutes,” I caution him. “Curtis is on a warpath. He just spent ten minutes blowing me up and questioning me in his office.”

  “I’ll handle it,” he says, his eyes narrowing, his voice gruff.

  Braxton’s eyes flick toward the door. I don’t have to turn around to know Curtis is standing in the hallway outside. Braxton waves him in. My heart beats a bit harder with each heavy footstep as he draws near to me. Curtis doesn’t even bother looking at me when he sits down. In fact, he very pointedly ignores me, treating me like nothing more consequential than a piece of furniture or something.

  “I think it goes without saying that I’ve not been happy with your work on the Lyman project,” Braxton starts, his gaze locked onto Curtis’s.

  “I think we’re simply butting heads over creative differences,” Curtis answers, his voice tight.

  “And that’s the problem. We shouldn’t be,” Braxton responds. “You’re ignoring what the client is asking for and imposing your creative flair.”

  Curtis shakes his head. “That’s just not the case,” he whines, cutting a glance at me. “I think this conversation would be better had in private.”

  Braxton leans back in his chair, his jaw clenched, his expression hard. Then leans forward on his desk, his eyes riveted to Curtis, who crumples in on himself, shrinking back into his seat. Curtis catches himself and sits back up again, clearing his throat as he grasps as his last few shreds of dignity.

  “This conversation involves Chloe, so it’ll be had right here,” Braxton’s voice is a deep rumble I can feel in my bones.

  “Braxton, I –”

  “Have you forgotten whose company this is?” Braxton hisses, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the man next to me. “This is my company, Curtis. Not yours. I make the rules here. Not you. Is that clear?”

  Curtis manages to muster up an indignant sneer. “Of course.”

  Braxton glares hard at him for another moment, and then sits back in his seat again, nodding mostly to himself. The tension in the air is thicker than the heat outside. It crackles with anger. Braxton looks ready to come over his desk and beat Curtis to a pulp but is managing to hold himself in check.

  “As I was saying, your work on the Lyman project has been woefully substandard,” Braxton begins again. I feel Curtis bristling beside me. “Luckily, there is somebody on your team who actually has the old-fashioned notion to put the client’s requests first.”

  Curtis’ eyes are as wide as dinner plates, and his mouth falls open. He casts me a dark, angry look and then turns back to Braxton.

  “You’re kidding me,” he spits. “She’s a junior designer for a reason, Braxton. She has no practical experience. I’ve been –”

  “You’ve been doing a piss-poor job, Curtis,” Braxton snaps. “Your design is about as far from what the client wanted as you can get. I told you point-blank to fix it, and you continue to defy me.”

  “Braxton, this isn’t –”

  He slams his fist down on his desk with such force, he knocks over his pen cup, scattering them everywhere and making both Curtis and I jump in our seats. Braxton takes a moment to sit back and calm himself down. When his breathing slows, he sits forward in his seat again, his face composed, and his anger reined
in – at least for the moment.

  “I asked you here as courtesy,” Braxton says through gritted teeth. “I will be taking Chloe to New York City with me to present her renderings at the meeting with Lyman.”

  I hear Curtis draw in a sharp breath, and he looks over at me, pure murder in his eyes. Yeah, this is going about as well as I figured it was going to go.

  “That’s ridiculous, Braxton,” Curtis declares and then turns to me. “Who in the hell do you think you are? I’m your team lead, and you didn’t see fit to tell me you were working on your own renderings?”

  “I asked her to do it,” Braxton lies. “Which is my prerogative as CEO of this company.”

  I don’t like that Braxton is lying to cover for the fact that I did go over Curtis’ head and undermined him by developing my own renderings, but I did it for a reason – Curtis wasn’t getting the job done. More than that, had I gone to him with my renderings, he would have spiked them, and they never would have seen the light of day.

  “This is my company, Curtis,” Braxton presses. “And I’m not going to sit idly by and let you – or anybody – lose clients for us. Which is exactly what would have happened if we’d gone to Lyman with your renderings.”

  “You don’t know that –”

  Braxton raises his hand to cut him off. “This conversation is over. Like I said, I let you know face to face as a courtesy,” he tells him. “My decision is final. We’re done here.”

  Curtis is on his feet in an instant, the scowl on his face deep and filled with promises of retribution. He turns to go, but Braxton stops him.

  “One more thing,” he says. “If I hear of you taking this out on Chloe or any of the people on your team – if I so much as hear you raised your voice to them – I will not only fire you, but I’ll make sure you can’t get a job in this field again. Do you understand me?”

  Curtis opens his mouth, the dark expression on his face saying he’s about to argue with him. Tension bristles between the two of them. Curtis finally apparently thinks better of it and does his best to make his expression neutral.

  “Fine,” is all he says.

  “Good. You’re dismissed.”

  Curtis hesitates for a moment, just standing there glowering at Braxton, who raises his eyes to find him still looming over his desk. He raises his eyebrow to Curtis.

  “You know, I’m a damn good designer,” he says.

  “I don’t disagree, necessarily,” Braxton says evenly, then adds, “when you want to be.”

  “Your father always appreciated my outside the box thinking and artistic flair.”

  Braxton’s face tightens, and he looks to be on the verge of blowing up. I have to admit, the transformation of the man when he gets this angry is scary. He looks like an entirely different person – one capable of terrible acts of violence. It sends a chill running through me. But he reins it in once more, and with tremendous effort, wills the mask of cool detachment back onto his face.

  “Good day, Curtis,” is all he says.

  My team lead spins on his heel and marches out the door. I have no doubt that if the door was capable of being slammed, he would have slammed it. Instead, he brusquely pushes his way through it, and the door eases closed quietly behind him, leaving just Braxton and I alone.

  “You okay?” he asks me.

  A puff of laughter bursts from my throat. “I should be asking you that question.”

  “The man really gets under my skin.”

  “I can tell,” I respond. “Have you thought about talking to your father and telling him what Curtis is doing? I can’t believe he’d want you to keep him on knowing what a monster he is.”

  “No, but I should,” he relents. “I just didn’t want him to think I was pulling the trigger on him without giving him a fair shake.”

  “I think you’ve given him more than a fair shake.”

  He runs his hand through his hair, frustration on his face. As I look closer though, I see something else – something I can’t quite identify. He’s looking at me with a strange expression on his face. Braxton looks like a man with a secret – one he’s dying to tell me. I have no idea what the secret might be, though, and when he looks away, that moment passes. The expression on his face melts away.

  “You sure you’re okay?” I question.

  He looks at me for a long moment. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says sharply. “Anyway, I sent you some notes to finalize your renderings. Get it all together and make the necessary revisions so we’ll be ready for Lyman.”

  I nod. “I’m on it.”

  I look back at him as I head for the door. He’s studying his computer screen, lost in work again. I feel like he was about to say something important to me, but like his emotions, he reeled it back in again. And as I step out into the hallway and head toward my pod, I can’t help but wonder what it was.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Braxton

  A couple of weeks after my meeting with Curtis and Chloe, we finally made it out to New York City to meet with Lyman – he’d had to put the meeting off another week due to a scheduling conflict on his end. It was frustrating, but these things happen – every project is going to hit snags and delays along the way.

  But the delay has also given me time to spend with Chloe. Her team is kind of in a dead spot until we get the green light from Lyman to proceed. They can’t take on a new project right now, just in case they have to immerse themselves back into this one. So we’ve been spending some time together, that natural magnetism between us not letting us stay apart for very long even though I can tell she’s been doing her best to hold herself back and not get too emotionally attached.

  In the time we’ve been spending together, I feel like we’ve grown closer. Much closer. I’d even go so far as to say we’re grown closer now than when we ran into each other a couple of years ago, the lingering tension of that last parting a thing of the past. Being with her has been incredible, and it has me starting to open up to the possibility of a future I’d long ago discarded. Her presence in my life and the bond we’re forming has once again stirred the embers of hope within me.

  I’m looking forward to presenting the project to Lyman and am confident he’ll love the direction. We should be able to close the deal on it and move forward – which will hopefully allow Chloe, and I to move forward as well.

  “Welcome to The Langham,” says the woman behind the front desk.

  “My reservation is under Braxton Voight,” I respond.

  “Of course.”

  The clerk, a pretty Asian woman who’s perfected the professional smile – a smile that looks warm but doesn’t quite reach her eyes – starts tapping on the computer keys. I look over at Chloe, who is looking around the lobby of the chic hotel I had my assistant book us into. Given her background, I’m sure she’s used to staying in high-end hotels, so even though The Langham is gorgeous and very luxurious, it’s old hat to her.

  As she takes in her surroundings, though, she has an almost wistful look on her face, and it makes me wonder if she’s thinking back to her old life – given her current situation and this new path she’s forging for herself, it’s easy to think of it as her old life. What she’s doing and building now is her new life. Which once again makes me wonder what her story is.

  I have to admit that I’m beyond curious. I’ve come close to violating her desire for privacy by looking it up. You can find anything online these days, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to figure out what circumstances led Chloe to her current situation. I’ve resisted every time, though – partly to respect her wishes, and partly because I’m already going to be in deep enough shit with her when I cop to the whole marriage thing. Something I have every intention of doing on this trip – and after a few drinks. I almost told her the day I met with her and Curtis in my office, but something held me back. But I know I can’t keep this secret much longer.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Voight,” the woman’s voice is smooth and rich. “We thank you for choosin
g us again.”

  “Absolutely. Your hotel is the best in the city,” I nod.

  “We appreciate you saying so,” she chirps, handing me a small folder containing two room keys. “We have you in a two-room balcony suite on the eighteenth floor. Feel free to go on up; your bags will be along shortly.”

  I tap the small folder on the counter and give her a smile. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” she says smoothly. “If there is anything you require, just let us know.”

  Chloe and I walk to the elevators and head up to our room to get situated. The bellhop arrives a few minutes after us, and after he drops our bags in our rooms, I tip him and send him on his way. Our suite has a main room that’s got a sofa and a large recliner, a flat panel television mounted to the wall in front of the couch, and a credenza containing the minibar below that. On the wall behind the couch is a desk, and the rear wall of the suite is floor to ceiling windows with a spectacular view of the Empire State Building and New York City.

  There’s a door on the left and one on the right that lead to the bedrooms. Like the living area, the rear walls are floor-to-ceiling windows, affording us the same breathtaking view. There is a balcony accessible by doors in both rooms, that has four chairs set around a table. The entire suite is done in that same sleek modern decor as the lobby. It’s a nice room.

  As I watch Chloe walking around the room, I can tell that she’s tense. It makes me wonder if booking a suite rather than two separate rooms was a bit too presumptuous. Maybe this is more suggestive than I’d intended.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She looks up at me as if startled, but quickly recovers and nods. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You seem tense,” I note. “If you’d prefer a room of your own –”

  Chloe shakes her head quickly. “No, it’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  She drops down onto the couch, gathering her legs under her and smooths her dress down. The fading sunlight of the day streaming through the wall of windows falls on her, making her skin seem to glow. Chloe looks positively ethereal. I have trouble taking my eyes off her. I take a seat in the large, plush recliner and fold one leg over the other, my gaze still on her as I wait. She looks up and gives me a crooked smile.