Page 56 of Big & Bossy
“I do,” he insisted. His wild, sleepless eyes met mine, and despite how irritating he could be, I could see the worry behind them. “I can tell your heart is already in it. Your priorities are getting all crisscrossed.”
“My priorities are fine. I’m doing what’s best for our business and you need to be okay with that,” I pressed, thinning my lips. I knew he just wanted what was best for me, but god, why did he have to be so intense about it?
“No, you’re doing whatever you damn well please,” he countered. He ran his fingers through his dusty blonde hair, the little curls rippling in the wave of warm air coming through the vent above him. I could feel the tension between us building the way it always did when we got into these… conversations. He felt like a powder keg about to explode with the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands flexed. He just needed to cool off.
Harry was starting to piss me off, and I really didn’t want to have to deal with this, not before my trip. I didn’t want to spend the next twenty-four hours wondering whether or not he was going to meetings with our clients or if he was avoiding work entirely because of this.
“You’ve slept with him, haven’t you?”
I froze. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
He took a step back, his eyes going wide, his mouth opening in a shocked grin. “Oh my God, you have.” He rubbed his jaw, an angry chuckle seeping out from between his lips. “I honestly thought you were better than that.”
“I’m not talking about this with you,” I breathed, the anger beginning to boil in my blood. I snatched my bag from my desk and took a wide step around him to give myself space. “Who I sleep with is my business, not yours.”
“No, this business is your business, Miranda. You’re going to end up getting your heart broken by him again and I’m going to be left to pick up the pieces, aren’t I?” Harry glared at me, his dark circles appearing more prevalent with the fluorescent lighting coming down from above. “I’m going to have to show up for all these new clients you’re going to be bringing in, while you’re at home crying in your shower, drowning yourself in sad music and wine, pretending that you couldn’t see it fucking coming.”
My lower lip quivered. I bit it to keep him from seeing, to keep myself from overthinking about why his words bothered me so much. He could have said a million other things to me, but he chose to say that, knowing damn well it would hurt.
“I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have said that. I just don’t want you to get your fucking heart shattered by him again,” he said, the words clashing against the tone he’d used only seconds before. It was almost like whiplash. “You’re too good for him. You know that, I know that, the whole world knows that.”
The burning in the back of my throat spread to my eyes, making them water a little too much to keep under control. I turned my head from him, trying to hide that, too, but I knew it wasn’t enough.
“Please don’t cry,” he breathed. “Please. I’m sorry.”
I nodded. I knew what he’d meant, knew why he was so angry, knew that he only had my best interest at heart. But for the love of all things holy, he could learn to speak those words clearer and less like they were a dagger being shoved into my chest.
“I just worry about you. That’s all.”
“I know,” I croaked, swiping my eyes with the back of my hand and throwing a passing glance at the ticking clock. “But you’re wrong if you think I haven’t considered any of that.”
A crease formed between his brows as he let out a huff. “All right. I… I’ll drop it, for now. Just please, Mands, be careful. Protect yourself.”
————
Jackson wasn’t in the car that arrived for me. Instead, an older man named Steve, graying and bearded, had shown up in an unmarked, tinted Range Rover. I didn’t like that Jack wasn’t there. I had hoped that his presence would make me feel better about the argument with Harry.
“Are we still going to the airport?” I asked, our eyes meeting in the rearview mirror.
“Of course, Ms. Littleson.”
“Without Jack?”
“Jackson will be joining you at the airport, I believe,” he explained as he put the car into drive. Harry stared down at me from behind the glass window of our office block, his arms across his chest, his jaw locked. His eyes never left the car as we pulled away.
I filled the bitter silence by distracting myself with my phone. I couldn’t help but look up any remaining articles about Jack and me, what had once filled the news cycle now only took up one or two slots. We weren’t even trending anymore. The plan had worked.
So why wasn’t I happy about that?
My heart jumped as my phone started vibrating in my hand. As much as I wanted it to be Jack, I was instead met with a cute photo of Mom and me at the beach in New York nine years ago, my curls swept up into a bun just like hers. “Do you mind if I take a call, Steve?”
“No, ma’am. That’s fine. Would you like some privacy?”
“Yes, please,” I nodded, watching as he pressed a button on the console, a dark, glass divider going up between the front and back seat.
I swiped to answer the call.
“Hey, Mom.”
