“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
She asked the question at the forefront of her mind. “How is Emilio doing?”
Antwan pointed at her desk phone. “Why don’t you call him and find out?”
“I tried, but he won’t take my calls.”
“So, that’s it? You’re just going to throw in the towel?”
You don’t understand. Being rejected hurts, and I’m scared of putting myself out there—
“Emilio’s crazy about you, so hurry over to his estate before he leaves for Milan.”
Sharleen shot straight up in her chair. “How long will he be gone for?”
“He’s attending the Classic Car Show in Milan this weekend, then spending some time with his friends and family. He’ll be back in town a couple days before the All-Star Race.”
Her head spun, and her heart thumped. He’ll be gone for the entire summer? But doesn’t he know I’ll miss him terribly? Does he even care?
“I can’t go to his house. What if he won’t talk to me? Or walks out on me again?”
“He won’t. Emilio loves you, and he’s miserable without you.”
“Then why hasn’t he returned any of my calls? Why hasn’t he reached out to me?”
“Because he feels guilty,” Antwan explained, wearing a thoughtful expression on his face. “Emilio knows he messed up, but he’s scared to make the first move. He’s worried you’ll reject him.”
I’m so confused. I don’t know what to think.
“Give some serious thought to what I said.” Antwan kissed her on the cheek and stood. “You don’t have much time, though. Emilio leaves for Milan at six o’clock.”
Sharleen gasped. “Tonight? And you’re just telling me now? Some friend you are!”
Antwan chuckled and slipped on his sunglasses. “How are things going with Rashad J?”
“Terrible. He’s spoiled and cocky, and he treats everyone around him like crap.”
“I know, that’s why I advised Urban Beats Records to hire you. If you can’t save the Bedroom Maestro from himself, no one can.”
For the first time that day, Sharleen laughed. But when Antwan left her office seconds later, the heaviness in her chest returned. The only place she felt safe and loved was with Emilio, and she longed to be back in his arms. She thought about their romantic weekend in Miami, the night they’d made love, their whispered promises and declarations. They were more than just lovers—they were best friends, and Sharleen missed having him to talk to. He was warm and affectionate, always made her feel good about herself and never failed to make her laugh. Emilio was the kind of man a woman didn’t forget, and Sharleen feared she never would.
* * *
“I want you both to know I thought long and hard about this decision.” Mrs. Fontaine clasped her hands on her desk and glanced from Brad to Sharleen. “After serious deliberation, I decided to choose the person I feel embodies all of the traits and characteristics I’m looking for in a vice president.”
Sharleen nodded, as if she were listening, but her thoughts were a million miles away. This meeting was just a formality, and the only reason she’d come to her boss’s office that afternoon was because Mrs. Fontaine had personally summoned her. On Monday, as she was leaving Emilio’s estate, her boss had called her cell phone and interrogated her like a homicide detective. Their thirty-minute conversation had been tense, plagued with sighs and long bouts of silence, and when the call ended, Sharleen knew there was no way in hell she was getting the VP job. But she had bigger problems to deal with than losing the promotion to Brad. What was she going to do about Emilio? Should she cut her losses and move on or drive to his estate and force him to talk to her?
“Congratulations, Ms. Nichols. I hope you make the most of this life-changing opportunity...”
Sharleen blinked and surfaced from her thoughts. “I’m the new vice president of Pathways Center?”
Mrs. Fontaine laughed. “Yes, you are. You’re the perfect person for the job, and I’m thrilled you’re going to be my right hand.”
“This is bullshit! I deserve to be VP.” Brad jabbed a finger at his chest. “I’ve been at this center for nine years, and no one works harder than I do.”
“Brad, calm down,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “You’re yelling.”
“Sharleen can’t be vice president,” he continued, his voice deafening. “She’s screwing her clients for money, and God knows what else.”
“That’s a lie, and you know it!” Sharleen met his gaze, refused to back down. Brad was a jerk, nothing more than a bully in an Armani suit, and she’d had enough of his self-righteous behavior. “You have no right to judge me. You’re an embarrassment to this profession, and you give life coaches everywhere a bad name.”