Crash (Billionaire New Adult Romance)(5)

A reedy voice suddenly joined the conversation and I looked to my left  to see William looking utterly mad in his gray shirt, like a handsome  demon. He sneered at Luke, who looked like he smelled something foul.

Oh, God.

"William, so nice of you to join us."

"You all can relax, I was just joking around." His voice suddenly  matured and the sneer dropped from his face. "Seriously, Luke. Congrats.  I can't wait to begin the campaign. It's going to be great."

Luke hesitated before he took Will's hand, which he shook with a slight  frown on his face. William, apparently at ease, looked at me and smiled  warmly.

"There you are! I was wondering if I'd get my jacket back."

"Oh, sorry," I mumbled as I slipped it from my shoulders.

He helped me take it off and when I looked at him, he winked.

Wipe that fucking smirk off your face.

Luke wore an uncertain smile. "You know each other?"

"I'm taking her out to dinner tomorrow night," Will said matter-of-factly.

All of them gaped at me.

Did I hear that correctly? "What?" I stammered.

The background music sounded like it was too low. Our small circle  ignored the party to stare at Will and me. He ignored the bemused looks  around him and addressed me with a scorching look. Blood careened  through my veins.

"Bring your portfolio. I want to see your work."

"No," I muttered. I didn't want to see the disappointment on his face.  My cheeks were like embers and I walked away with Jessica close on my  heels. Oh, crap.         

     



 

I stopped near a table with a row of glasses and I took one, frowning as Jessica cornered me, looking excited.

"He asked you out on a date?"

"Yeah, but I'm not going. He's a bit strange." I looked back at the  group. William and Luke were exchanging words and Luke looked  uncharacteristically serious. I couldn't imagine what they were talking  about.

I just don't want to be hurt again.

And he looked like just the man who would do such a thing.

I tried to forget about the man I met on the way home, but he kept  popping up in my head. I couldn't get over how weird the whole thing  was-how he looked drunk but wasn't, and his wildly inappropriate  behavior. He has issues.

There was something about him that made me intensely curious. What kind  of rich guy goes to a party looking like he had just been mugged? There  was something refreshing about his open honesty, even if it was rude as  hell.

As I dove into bed, yawning, I decided that the party hadn't been so  bad. It had been worth it just to meet the strange man who asked me out  minutes after insulting me.

No way, buddy.

Then why couldn't I stop thinking about him





Chapter 2



I went to work on Monday, my mind churning with the bizarre encounter at  Luke's party. It was one of the weirdest conversations I ever had with a  stranger. Briefly, it interrupted my obsessive, self-pitying thoughts  and gave me something new to stew over. I walked to my cubicle and  caught a faint tinge of cologne and suddenly Will's fingers were  stroking my face, making me hot all over.

"Just stop it," I muttered to myself.

"Stop what?"

My coworker, Janine leaned out of her cubicle and my cheeks purpled.

"Oh, I was just talking to myself. One of those days."

I grimaced at her and she returned the smile reluctantly.

My gaze returned to the email from my boss requesting a meeting at  three. My heart pounded. What does she want to talk about? I had a  feeling that I knew what it was going to be about. Lately, my job  performance wasn't at its best. She sent my designs back multiple times,  telling me that they lacked inspiration. They were too simple. She's  probably going to talk to me about it.

The last year killed my creativity. It wasn't that I had to be happy to  be creative, but it was hard to think about art after cutting out a  major part of my life. I was physically and emotionally drained all the  time.

Oh, poor you, I imagined my Mom saying. Poor baby. Shut up and work.

I made the finishing touches on my tablet and sent the graphic to her,  hoping that she would find it acceptable. Two fifty-five. Might as well  start walking over there. I turned my monitor off and noticed in the  black screen how pale and sickly I looked. My limbs shook as I stood up  and walked towards her office. I kept imagining her leaning over the  desk, screaming at me. I wonder what this is about. There was someone  already in her office; I could see their bodies behind the frosted  glass.

The door flung open and Mark, one of my colleagues, sped out of her  office without a backwards glance. I closed my hands to relieve some of  the coldness and opened my boss' door.

Mary waved me in from behind her desk, looking uncharacteristically serious. Uh-oh. Does she hate my last design?

"Hello, Natalie. Have a seat."

I sat down on the seat painfully. It was like being called to the  principal's office. Jessica and I were sent there once for throwing a  boy's jacket into the mud in middle school. Jessica and I debated  whether we would be sent to juvenile hall while we waited outside his  office. I never forgot how horrified I felt. The same uneasy feeling  coursed through my veins.

"Natalie, as you know the aquarium has been experiencing declining  profits and our department's budget has been cut. I'm really sorry, but  we're going to have to let you go."

What? My insides froze as "let you go" wormed through my brain. She's  firing me. "Why me? I've been here way longer than Carrie and Janine."

"Frankly, you've lost your edge. You're frequently late and you don't  pay attention in meetings. I can't use anything you send me anymore. I  will not fight for you if your designs are poor, no matter how many  years you've been here. I'm sorry."

She was indifferent to my emotions. I couldn't find the words-my world  was falling apart. My voice stumbled in an attempt to desperately  salvage my first ever job.

"I'm sorry, Miranda. It's the stress over losing Ben. I'm still not over him. Please give me another chance!"

Her face creased. "Natalie, it's almost been a year. I quite understand  that break-ups are painful, but it shouldn't have affected your job like  this. I'm sorry. I would keep you, but we just don't have the budget."         

     



 

First my relationship and now my career. How did everything fall apart  so neatly? Miranda was immune to my tears-I was just another casualty of  the failing economy, a lackluster employee who finally was cut loose.

Ignoring her outstretched hand, I turned around and bolted from her  office like a coward. What else was there to do but empty out my desk  and go home? I didn't want to face my coworkers and hear their  sympathies. I wanted to drown myself in a bottle of tequila.

Don't be stupid. Your designs are good. You'll find another job, easily.

But I turned down an interview at Apple six months ago. Cringing,  stinking fear always kept me from advancing my career. I was convinced  that I was never good enough. It's only a matter of time before I fuck  up, just like today.

"Natalie? What are you doing?"

A photo of Ben and I sat on my desk, its metallic frame grinning. Fuck  you. It's all your fault. I hurled it into the trashcan. My arm swept  all of the unnecessary crap on my desk into the trash. Was there  anything I should salvage? I shoved my coffee mug in my purse.

"Natalie!"

Janine poked her head around my cubicle and I dissolved into tears when I saw the concern on her face. "I was laid off."

"Oh my gosh. Natalie, I'm so sorry."

I waved it off and dried my eyes on my sleeve. The box of tissues was  buried deep in the trash. Another surge of violent heat seared through  my veins. I was so sick of tissues, so sick of crying all the time.

"You'll find something else."

She placed a tentative hand on my shoulder, which I ignored. I ripped  open my drawers and crammed the files I wanted to keep into my already  overfilled purse.

"We should go out for a drink or something."

I shook my head. I didn't think I could handle dozens of people saying  how very sorry they were, and how they were sure I would find something  else. Not today.

"Sorry, Janine. I just want to get out of here."

Maybe there was a bit too much bitterness in my voice. Ugly thoughts  swam in my head as I gazed back at her. I had seniority over Janine, but  that didn't matter.

Her eyes shined with nauseating pity.

"You'll come back, won't you?"

Shouldering my purse, I shrugged at her and walked out of the office. I  slammed the elevator button as I thought what I should do.

Telling my best friend what happened was my first instinct, but I knew  it would give me little comfort to have her look into my eyes with the  same pitying expression I used to give her. It was embarrassing.

Poor Natalie. You have so many problems. Supportive, middle class  upbringing. Zero student loans or credit card debt. Christ, I would  never measure up to her. The problem with having a best friend like her  was that we could never see eye to eye. How could Jessica ever  sympathize with someone like me? Knowing about her shitty childhood made  me feel like I didn't have a right to be unhappy.