“Mr. Clark! Benedict! Sir! Boss!”
He responds by flashing his perfectly white smile, waving and nodding, saying something about catching everyone tomorrow. We move past the crowd and he puts his hand on the small of my back to lead me out. As soon as we’re away from the throng, I shirk away from his hand.
Being the boss’s friend is bad enough. The absolute last thing I need isthatkind of rumor about me and Benedict Clark. Bunny-type rumors. At this point, the man’s proverbial bed post has got to be “notched” down to a nub. A slaughtered little stump.
And, like, good for him.
You do you, man. Just not me.
Ha! Still got my humor at least.
“How about this one?” Benedict asks at the first bar we find outside the conference.
“Okay,” I shrug.
We walk into a sparkling room, dripping in crystals. Instantly, I feel under-dressed. Then I remember I walked in with one of the literal richest men in the world. It’ll be fine.
“What hotel is this?” I ask as I glance at the sparkles surrounding us.
“Cosmopolitan, I think?”
I nod.
The hostess doesn’t recognize him, thankfully, as she attempts to lead us to a booth in the back.
“Bar, please,” I say too quickly. I wince, wondering if Benedict might side-eye me, offended about my rumor mill concerns, but his eyes go to the wall of hard liquor. A man on a mission, then.
We take two stools. I order a mojito because I can sip it slowly, and because I know a swanky place like this will have real, freshmint. The troubled billionaire to my left gets a double scotch and pounds it down in almost one gulp when it arrives.
“Okay,” my eyes go wide at his apparent desperation. “Listen, my social battery is already in the negative, so what kind of bad week are we talking here, exactly?”
“Let’s not,” he says as he motions the bartender. “Talk about it, I mean. I want to talk about how you ended up secretly working for me and why you did it secretly, which we both know you did.”
“I already answered that. And can we agreework for youis a stretch?”
“No, we cannot.”
“Fine,Boss,” I roll my eyes but his light up. His smile takes over the whole room in a seriously irritating way and I struggle to ignore it. “I needed a job in Juniper Falls. Mellman’s had the best offer.”
“Why’s that? And what do you do for me at Mellman’s?”
I stare him down about his choice of words but he just sits there, grinning. “Do you even really work for Clark Industries? Aren’t you just sort of a pretty face for the news?”
“You think I’m pretty?”
“Gross.”
He laughs but then his smile shrivels. He stares down into his glass and sighs, “I do have to work a bit actually, yeah.”
His whole body slumps in response to my jab.
Whoops! I actually upset the unupsettable man.
Sometimes I let my inner bitch flag fly a little hard.
“Sorry, I—”
“It’s alright, love, you were just saying what you’ve seen. I’m not exactly CEO material.” I wait, but he doesn’t go on.
