The hawthorne brothers a.., p.23
The Hawthorne Brothers: A Complete Billionaire Romance Collection, page 23
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “But that was ages ago. We were students.”
“Grad students. We weren’t teenagers, so you can’t blame hormones for your behavior.”
“But we’re professionals now.”
“Apparently, that doesn’t stop some people from sleeping around.”
I roll my eyes.
“You haven’t changed,” Violet says. “I saw how the women in this place look at you.”
“That’s my fault?”
“They wouldn’t look at you like that, with that hunger and that hope, unless they had some kind of encouragement. You still sleep with one woman after another and then throw them away the morning after, don’t you?”
“Not as much as I used to.”
Violet laughs. “Like just three women per week?”
I don’t answer. “If you go out with me, I won’t sleep with anyone else. I promise.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. Not falling for that again.”
I sigh. “Violet, that was years ago. Can’t we just forget about it and start over?”
“No,” she answers firmly.
“I already said I was sorry. What do you want me to do? Kneel? Give you a foot massage? Buy you flowers? Whisk you off to the beach and write ‘I’m sorry’ a hundred times in the sand?”
“Wow.” She sits up and clasps her hands on her desk. “Maybe you should quit being CFO and write a book called 101 Ways to Apologize. I bet it would be a hit.”
“Do you want me to give you my job? Is that it?”
Her expression turns serious. “No. I don’t want you to give me your job, Mr. Hawthorne. I’ll take it myself. In fact, I don’t want anything from you.”
“So you’re just going to keep hating me for the rest of your life? Is that it?”
“No,” Violet answers. “That would be too exhausting. I already stopped hating you once, you know. When I was in Switzerland, I forgot about you. But you showed up and here I am hating you again. But I’ll stop eventually. I’ll go back to just pretending you don’t exist, to not feeling anything at all for you.”
“So you admit you still have feelings for me?”
“Hate. Disgust. All that ugly stuff.”
“Damaging stuff,” I say. “Why not just let them go and give me a second chance?”
Violet puts her hand on her chest as she snickers. “A second chance?”
I shrug. “Why not? Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“Bullshit.” Violet stands up and narrows her eyes at me. “If you think I’m going to give you another chance to make me feel like a fool and a piece of trash, you’re dead wrong.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“No. You’re not. End of conversation.”
Violet sits down. I draw a deep breath.
“Can’t we at least be friends?” I ask her. “We are going to be working together.”
“Which is something I never asked for. Do you think I want to work with you? But like you said, we’re adults and professionals, so yeah, I’m going to do my job and I’m going to do my best. And one day, I’m going to be CFO. It’s that simple.”
I scratch the back of my head. Really? She thinks all this is simple?
“I…”
Just then, I hear a knock on the glass door. I turn my head and see Stella stepping in. She stops as our gazes meet.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Asher. I didn’t know…”
“Can I help you?” Violet asks.
Stella looks at her. “You must be Violet Cleary. I’m Stella Quinn. We met in Zurich.”
“We did?” Violet asks as they shake hands.
“Right. You probably don’t remember me because I was in the background. I’m Ethan’s… Mr. Hawthorne’s assistant.”
“Oh.”
“He asked me to show you your apartment, so when you’re done here, you can—”
“Oh, I’m done here.” Violet stands up and looks at me. “We are done here, aren’t we, Mr. Hawthorne? Or is there something else I need to make clear?”
“No,” I answer. “You were very clear.”
“Good.”
She grabs her purse and leaves the office with Stella. After they’re gone, I sink into Violet’s chair. My gaze goes to the freshly engraved name plate on her desk.
Violet Cleary. Controller.
Who would have thought she was the same woman I left at a party years ago?
I’d go back and change that if I could, but I can’t. And she won’t give me a second chance. So what am I supposed to do? Just sit and smile while she glares at me every single day, spits venom at me every chance she gets, and plots to take my job?
No way. If I’m not going to have my fun, I’m not going to let her have hers. If she won’t play nice, then she has no place on the court, on my court. If I can’t have her, then she might as well get out of my sight.
Violet brought up a lot of things from the past, but she forgot something important about the present—I’m her boss. I can fire her. I won’t, because that’s no fun. But I will make her life such a hell that she’ll pack her bags and head back to Switzerland.
I gave her a chance to be a saint. She decided to be the devil. So fine. Let’s do this. Let’s give each other hell and see who has the last laugh.
I pick up the Baoding balls on her desk and rotate them in my hand.
Now, this could be even more fun.
Chapter Two
Violet
“Having fun yet?” Stella asks me after we step inside one of the elevators of The Mistral.
It’s a thirty-six story building just ten minutes away from the office. It has a doorman, a security guard, a pair of polite receptionists and a spacious lobby with minimalist furniture, a huge chandelier, mirrors and a succulent garden. I like it already.
But that’s not what Stella’s asking.
Fun? Let me think. What have I done so far? I had lunch with Asher. The food was good but the company wasn’t, so no, that wasn’t fun. Although I did enjoy that stupid look on Asher’s face when he was struggling to decipher my words. At least, I would have if I wasn’t so annoyed that he didn’t recognize my name or my face just because I was wearing a pair of contacts. Jerk.
Then I had a tour of the office building. Everything looked fine. The people were warm. But I was also with Asher, who was clearly well-liked, especially by the women, so that wasn’t fun either. That conversation I had with Asher at the end? Maybe, because I was in control, but it was also a bit excruciating to relive that horrible night.
So let’s see. My answer is…
“Too much fun, which is why I’m looking forward to slipping under the covers. After a shower, of course.”
I can’t believe it’s been sixteen hours since I had one.
Stella turns to me with a smile. “Don’t worry. Your apartment definitely has a shower. And it’s fully furnished with fresh linens and rugs and curtains. In fact, everything in it is new. It’s a gift from Eth—I mean Mr. Ethan Hawthorne, the CEO.”
I wonder why she keeps doing that. I don’t really mind her calling the CEO by his first name. I used to call Simone by his first name.
Wait. Did she say my apartment is a gift from the CEO? It’s free?
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t quite catch the meaning of that. Are you saying I don’t have to pay any rent?”
“Oh, no. You do,” Stella answers. “I meant the furniture and the appliances and all the trappings, those are Mr. Hawthorne’s welcome gift. Mr. Ethan Hawthorne, that is. But you still have to pay rent. Don’t worry, though, because Hawthorne Holdings owns this building, so you get a huge employee discount.”
“I see.”
I figured a free apartment was too good to be true. But hey, at least I get a discount. Hopefully, it’s at least twenty-five percent.
“You can make arrangements downstairs if you want to have your rent deducted straight from your salary,” Stella adds.
I nod. “I’ll think about that.”
The doors open and we get out on the thirty-fourth floor. I find myself at the start of a long carpeted hallway. I only see two doors, though, one at the end and another just a few feet away from me.
“The units in this building are spacious with high ceilings,” Stella explains. “So there’s a maximum of seven units per floor. But on the thirty-third and this floor, there are only two units.”
Okay.
She unlocks the door near me and pushes it open. “And this is yours.”
I step inside. As soon as I see the space, I gasp. Spacious? This place is bigger than any apartment I’ve lived in. It may even be bigger than the whole first floor of the house where I grew up. And the furniture is lovely. Modern but cozy. The design has a feminine touch—warm, soothing pastel colors and a few pieces of floral decor. The view of the city from the floor-to-ceiling windows is spectacular.
I wrap my hand around my throat as I take in the view. The sun is setting so the building facades are gleaming golden. In the distance, the surface of Lake Michigan glistens as it captures the final remnants of daylight.
“I know it’s not Zurich, but Chicago has its own charm,” Stella says as she stands beside me.
“It sure does,” I agree.
She looks around. “So do you like the apartment?”
“I do,” I admit as I turn around. “It’s… amazing.”
“I’m glad you think so. I chose some of the pieces myself. I’ve been dabbling in interior design lately.”
“Really?”
That would explain the feminine touch.
“I’m setting up a nursery soon.”
“A nursery?” My eyebrows furrow, but as soon as I see Stella’s hand on her belly, I understand. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes. I’m not that far along, so it’s not obvious yet, and maybe it is too early for me to be thinking about nurseries. I mean, we don’t even know if we’re having a boy or a girl. But I just can’t help but be excited. Well, I wasn’t excited at first. I was really scared, actually. But now I am.”
And it shows.
“It’s fine,” I tell her as I give her hand a squeeze. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“And please tell Mr. Hawthorne, Mr. Ethan Hawthorne that is, that I graciously accept his gift and am very grateful.”
Stella nods. “I will.”
“I’d thank him myself, but I don’t want to take up any of his time. I know he’s very busy.”
“He is, but you can just thank him the first chance you get, like when you bump into him in the corridor or happen to share an elevator ride with him.”
I give Stella a puzzled look. “I would have thought he had his own private elevator.”
“He does, but every now and then he takes the other one just to let himself be seen, remind his employees that they’re all working towards the same goals.”
“Really? He didn’t strike me as someone who cared about his employees when I met him in Zurich.”
Stella grins. “That’s because he looks so serious most of the time. Scary even. But he does care. He’s actually a big kid at heart.”
Her words—and more particularly the tone of her voice—give me pause. There’s also that look on her face when she’s talking about Ethan Hawthorne. Is this how an assistant talks about her boss? My female intuition tells me no.
Is Stella Ethan Hawthorne’s girlfriend? She doesn’t seem to be wearing a ring, so she’s not his wife or fiancée, and yet there’s something there. But she’s pregnant. Is it Ethan’s? Is that even allowed?
I suddenly have a lot of questions, but I decide to keep my mouth shut. I’m new. I’m curious, but I don’t want to be nosy. Besides, who the CEO knocks up, whether it’s his assistant or some foreign-born heiress, is really none of my business. I’ll give this the Swiss treatment and leave it alone.
Just then, Stella’s phone beeps. She looks at it.
“Oops. I have to go. If there’s anything wrong with the apartment, you can just call downstairs.”
“Okay.”
She places her hand on my arm and gives me a warm smile. “Again, welcome to Hawthorne Holdings. Welcome to Chicago. And I wish you all the best.”
I pat her hand. “Thank you.”
She walks towards the door but stops right in front of it and turns.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“I know Asher can come on a little too strong sometimes. He can seem careless, thoughtless. Sometimes, it seems like he speaks before he thinks…”
She sounds like she knows Asher well, too. Wait. Don’t tell me the baby is Asher’s?
“But he actually weighs everything carefully. He may seem lazy, but he takes work very seriously. And yes, he loves to flirt, but I think he’s actually maybe desperately searching for someone who can understand him and challenge him at the same time.”
I narrow my eyes at her. I know I said I’d keep my mouth shut, but I just can’t rein in my curiosity.
“I’m sorry, but are you and Asher…?”
Stella’s eyebrows go up. “What? No!”
She shakes her head.
“So you didn’t sleep with Asher?”
“Never.”
“So the baby isn’t…?”
“Not Asher’s,” Stella assures me. “Definitely not.”
And I believe her. Something in her eyes tells me she’s never even been interested in Asher, which is a first, I think, but understandable if she’s always been in love with someone else—like Ethan Hawthorne, for example. In fact, I’m even more convinced now that that’s the case.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “It’s just… I’ve heard things about Asher.”
Stella nods. “I know. That’s why I told you all that stuff just now. Some of the things you heard may have a grain of truth in them, but trust me, Asher isn’t a bad guy.”
But he is. After all, no decent man goes to a party with one woman, the one he asked and practically begged to go out with him, kisses her and then leaves with another, right?
But I don’t say that.
“Thanks,” I simply tell Stella.
She gives me another nod and then leaves. I sit on the couch, on the exquisitely soft microfiber couch that still smells new and faces the window, and I let out a deep breath.
So this is my new home, huh?
I wasn’t lying when I said I like it. I like Chicago, too. The only thing I don’t like about this new job? Asher. He’s a textbook jerk. Selfish. Conceited. Obnoxious. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women, while in truth, he’s a curse. He shouldn’t exist.
And yet, Stella, who I happen to like, seems to think he’s a good guy. She was practically selling him to me, trying to tell me to give him another chance. And the thing is she knows Asher. If she’s with Ethan, Asher must be like a brother to her. That may make her biased, but it also means she knows him well.
What about me? How well do I really know Asher?
I went to school with him, but we barely talked outside of our classes. I only had that one conversation with him before we started kissing and things fell apart. Ever since then, I’ve thought of him as a monster.
But is he one? I’m judging him based on one fact, one incident, one mistake which he already apologized for. Is that fair? What if I’m wrong about him? What if I’m being too harsh, too rash?
The more I think about it, the more I realize that I don’t actually hate him. I just hate what he did. Just that one thing. And I’m to blame for it, too.
Is there a chance that maybe, just maybe, I’ve been wrong all this time and Asher isn’t as bad as I think he is?
~
I’m right. Asher’s bad. The worst, actually.
During my first day at the office, Asher dumped a whole pile of work on me. And he keeps adding to it every day. I’ve barely been able to leave my desk. I’ve even had to work overtime. On my first week. And if I make so much as a single error, even if it’s a typo, or forget one little detail, he’s on my case, turning it into a big deal. If I try to say anything in my defense, he glares and tells me that if I can’t do my job, I should just quit.
There’s no way I’m going to quit, but I don’t like this. Not one bit. I’m definitely being punished. And I know it’s for personal reasons.
Is it because I threatened to take his job? Or is it because I said I’d never forgive him? Whatever the reason, I think he’s being unfair. And he’s even worse during meetings.
At the first one, he tried everything he could to make me feel like I didn’t belong. Not in that meeting. Not in his department. Not in the company. He made it clear he didn’t like me, so now, no one on the floor does. He didn’t give me a chance to speak. Each time I started talking, he’d interrupt or move on. And he deliberately talked a lot about things they did in the past that I clearly wasn’t a part of and have no knowledge of. It was as if I wasn’t there.
I thought the second meeting would be better because he gave me a chance to report, but then afterwards, he started criticizing me, pointing out every mistake I made and telling me I could have done everything better because he could have done it all better. In front of everyone. Even when I was in school, I was never criticized in front of the whole class. It made me want to cry.
And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, today, at the meeting just now, Asher stole my ideas, all my hard work, all the plans I drew up, the charts, the tables, and passed them off as his. I was so shocked and disappointed I couldn’t say anything even if I’d wanted to.
But I can speak now. Enough is enough.
“Mr. Hawthorne?” I get up from my chair as Asher starts to leave the conference room. “A moment, please?”
He keeps going. “I’m busy.”
Oh no. He’s not running away.
“Asher!” I slam my hands on the table.
That gets his attention. He stops and turns towards me.
“What?”
“This has to stop,” I tell him in a calmer tone.
His dark eyes narrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
