Page 2 of Dirty Boss

The old creep laughed, pleased that I’d capitulated that far. I’d played his game, made him feel like he had a chance with me. Power over me.

It made me feel dirty, but I couldn’t afford for him to stiff me on the tip. So maybe he did have power over me, after all.

The vulnerability of my situation hit me then, and I couldn’t stand the clinking of utensils on plates and the low murmur of people schmoozing over overpriced sandwiches.

My fall from grace had been abrupt, and I still hadn’t quite stuck the landing. I existed paycheck to paycheck. I worked two jobs and lived in a shoebox. Actually, the shoeboxes of my old life were far nicer than my current accommodations—but I couldn’t complain. The alternative was the street, and January in NYC wasn’t exactly hospitable.

Dumping the plate in the dish pit at the back of the restaurant, I ducked into the walk-in cooler and leaned my head against a metal shelf. The door closed, and the din of the kitchen was abruptly muffled. I exhaled a puff of white breath, opening my eyes to stare at the container of limes directly in front of my face.

A little over a year ago, I was rich, I was engaged—and I was in love. Not to the same man, mind you. My engagement was essentially a sham, but I knew my duty to my family, and I was ready to keep up appearances by tying my life to Cole Christianson’s. He was the darling of my father’s company, and our union was supposed to make us Manhattan’s newest power couple. Or, if I were being honest, it would make him a powerful man and me the woman along for the ride at his side. I’d learned just how little agency I’d had over my life when I’d been ousted from it.

Cole and I would’ve each gotten to live our intimate lives in private, away from each other and from prying eyes. He could have had his own fun on the side, and I could have had mine.

Until I went and fell in love, like the idiot I thought I’d never be. The fact that he did too had felt like a blessing—it meant we could finally stop lying to each other and break up. No need for a sham wedding after all.

Ha.

Thathadn’t gone over well with Mommy and Daddy Dearest.

Love, as far as I was concerned, was what had started this descent into near-poverty, this crash from the upper echelons of Manhattan society into the subsistence that passed for my life now.

Love is what bit me in the ass and made me throw everything away. And then love laughed in my face and turned its back on me. The man I thought I loved didn’t love me back when I didn’t have access to Daddy’s purse strings anymore.

That was a slap in the face like I’d never experienced before.

And Cole? Well, last I heard, he reconnected with The One Who Got Away, and they were blissfully happy and recently married.

That hurt too, which I knew was pathetic and selfish of me.

I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, then squared my shoulders and walked out of the fridge. I grabbed a couple of plates on my way out of the kitchen and brought them to the hungry patrons who had ordered them, smiling like my life depended on it.

In a lot of ways, it did.

When I glanced over at the far side of my section, the old lecher had disappeared. A red-stained wine glass remained at his seat, and his companion in the cheap suit now wore a troubled frown as he leaned his chin on his palm and stared out the window at the city rushing by outside.

My first thought was that I was glad I wouldn’t have to interact with the other man again. My second was that I’dwasted all that effort resisting the urge to stab him in the eye when he wasn’t even the one who was going to pay the bill.

At least when I flirted back with them, they tended to pay me for it. This guy didn’t look like he’d bother. Cheap Suit glanced up when I stopped to clear the other man’s wine glass.

“Can I get you anything else?” I asked.

His pale blue eyes met mine, and he shook his head. “Just the bill.” His voice was pleasantly deep, and it annoyed me. Just another handsome, entitled man who lived life on easy mode.

Business lunches and bottles of wine. Money flowing through his hands like water. A devastating smile and a trail of heartbreaks behind him.

Yeah, I knew his type.

I was sotired.

“I’m sorry about that, earlier,” he said, motioning to the other side of the table, and a flash of annoyance went through me. He didn’t have to pretend to care. No one else did.

“Not your job to apologize for other people’s actions.”

He tilted his head. “Still. Not the kind of thing I like to endorse.” A sigh left his lips, and his gaze slid away from me as he said, lower, “So I guess it’s a good thing he walked.”

I arched a brow, and a scoff slipped through my best defenses. “Meeting didn’t go the way you wanted?”

I knew the moment the words came out of my mouth that my tone was way out of line. Too much sass, not enough deference. All the judgments that were supposed to be bottled up inside me had been folded in that question, barely hidden just below the surface.