All Chapters of Before He Was My Boss.: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

I walked into his private restroom and turned on the faucet.I didn't know what to do with my face.My mascara had smudged all the way back to my cheek, my lipstick was completely ruined, and I looked like I'd just survived a chaotic night at a club — all sober and thoroughly fucked up. My hair was an absolute disaster and I didn't even know where to start with it. I couldn't do much anyway since everything I needed was in my bag outside."Fuck." I muttered at my own reflection.A weak, satisfied smile followed immediately after.I stared at the door behind me, wondering what he was thinking. What he was doing. Whether he was sitting out there completely unbothered while I stood here looking like a completely different person.I looked at myself again and my hands moved on their own. I cupped water from the running faucet, pressed it against my face, and washed. Then again. Then a third time. It didn't fix everything, but it did something. The worst of it came away. I'd deal with the

The sun was gone.I stared at the digital clock on my desk. 6:00 p.m.I’d stayed past my hours again. Not for work. For the psychoanalysis I kept performing on everything — every detail, Aurélie, Rand, the way my own thoughts wouldn’t sit still long enough to be gathered properly.I wished I could stay buried here longer. In the quiet. In the lie that I was just working late again. But I couldn’t. I had a bar to get to in two hours, and promises I’d made to myself about not becoming Rand. I was going to confront him at Nocturne. I’d already had an untraceable invite sent to him — clean, anonymous.I picked up my phone and headed out.The parking lot hit me with cold air and something worse.The car I’d set aside for Aurélie — her car, even if she’d never call it that — sat exactly where George had left it. Untouched. Like she’d seen it, maybe even wanted it, but couldn’t accept it.At the far end, George stood with his back to me, shoulders squared and stiff, hands cutting the air. He

“So how’s life been treating you?” Jeremy asked, tipping his glass toward me. The ice clinked, catching the red light. He took a sip, then smirked. swirling whatever was in his glass with the unhurried ease of someone who had nowhere more important to be. “Most especially that rivalry you told me about. Rand.” He tilted his head. “Crushed him yet?”I breathed and bowed my head down. The excitement that crawled through me at having to talk about this with someone who didn’t directly connect to Rand as an opponent was thrilling. It was a buzz under my skin, hot and sharp. I tried to contain it. Couldn’t let it show too much. Couldn’t let Jeremy see how deep it went.“Actually, I am confident I can win,” I said, keeping my voice level, but my fingers tightened around my cigar. “That property has been my target for three years. Three damn years, Jeremy. I’m not gonna just sit and let him have it. Especially when he’s illegally manipulating prices like he owns the thing.”“Manipulate price

I stood up from the couch and wandered through the entire room. The music throbbed against my ribs, low and insistent, but it didn’t drown out the sudden, sharp absence of her. Aurélie wasn’t there. I started at the bar first. Scanned the row of high stools, the hunched backs, the glitter of women’s dresses. Not her. I moved past the leather armchairs near the fireplace, where old men smoked and talked about stocks like they were betting on horses. No slender frame, no dark hair catching the red light. I checked the corner where the jazz trio played, the saxophone wailing something sad. Couples pressed close, swaying. None of them were her. I filtered through bodies by the pool tables, past laughter and past waiters balancing trays. I looked in the alcove with the art on the walls, in the shadowed hallway that led to the private rooms. Every step, my pulse ticked higher. Every face that wasn’t hers made my chest tighter. She was gone. I turned back and saw Mike and Julia coming thr

The faint smell of coffee, freshly made coffee, hit me in my sleep. It pulled me up from somewhere dim. Somewhere I didn’t fully register yet. For a second, I thought I was back in my apartment. That the last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare I could shake off. I stirred awake, staring at the steam curling upwards from the cup. It was on the nightstand. White ceramic. A thin gold rim. Beside it, was a small note. —Drink it.My head ached badly. The kind of ache that sat right behind my eyes, pulsing with every heartbeat. But the ache didn’t last for long, just a dull pain that dizzied me for a few seconds. I pressed my palms into my eyes until I saw stars. When I’d steadied myself, my legs moved to the bathroom first. The carpet was thick under my bare feet. The room was still dim, curtains drawn, but enough light bled through for me to see. I flipped the switch. The bathroom lights were soft, not the harsh fluorescent kind that made you look dead. I stared at my reflection