Bastard Boss

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Bella

I meet Tyler's stare, not about to cower from my long-time boss, and one-time sexual exploit any more than I was willing to run when he told me to. "I thought you went home?" he challenges, right here in front of Dash and Allie. What the heck is he doing? Dash will lose his shit if he thinks there's something between me and Tyler.

"Why would she go home?" Dash asks. "What did I miss?"

I decide to walk into this as honestly as I can. "One of my clients hit on me. Tyler stepped in. It got ugly. He assumed I couldn't handle the situation, and things got heated."

Dash's brow lifts in surprise and he glances at Tyler. "I hope you kicked his ass."

"Right out of the door," Tyler assures him, "but as Bella stated so elegantly. It got ugly. I do believe she called me a bastard."

Allie catches my arm and gives me a disbelieving look. "He is a bastard," I state. "You know. I know it." I eye my brother. "You know it, too."

"Speaking of bastards," Tyler replies. "Jesse Bates is playing a show on Friday night. He's a dick but he's talented."

Allie lights up. "Oh my God. Yes, please." She eyes Dash. "You did this."

Dash wraps his arms around her. "Of course, I did it."

"Good thing the concert's Saturday," Tyler replies. "He wants me to play golf with him Saturday. I don't like the game. I don't like the man." He lifts his chin at Dash. "You want in?"

Dash laughs and downs the glass of whiskey in his hand. "I wouldn't miss that shit show for the world. When one of you kills the other, I have the plot for my next book."

I glance up to find Malcolm entering the room, looking big, broad, and country in jeans and boots, his dark hair slicked back and my eyes go wide. Considering Josh said Malcolm was out of town, my heart thunders in my chest and my eyes jerk to Tyler. He's talking to Dash, not even looking at me, and I whisper, "Tyler," with an insistent urgency.

His gaze jerks to mine and I say, "Malcolm just walked in and I beg you to please let me handle him. He's my client—"

"Who is supposedly out of town," he supplies. "At least that's what Josh told my secretary when he RSVP'd for the event."

"That's what he told me as well. Obviously, that was a lie. Please let me handle this."

He studies me a moment and then says, "Not this time, Bella." And then he backs out of the group and starts walking.

My fingers curl into my palms and I grumble frustrated words. I don't even look at Dash or Allie. I rotate out of the circle and catch up with Tyler right as he joins Malcolm, who is focused on me. "Josh told me what happened."

"Which was what?" Tyler demands.

"Tyler," I warn tightly.

Malcolm holds up a hand. "It's fine, Bella. He should be protective. Frankly, I respect the hell out of him for looking out for you." He gives Tyler a nod and refocuses on me. "Josh lost his brother a couple of months back. He's been acting a fool ever since, drinking way too much, and he's going into rehab. When he gets out, if you feel you can, he needs a second chance."

My heart twists with the idea of losing Dash and with the certainty that addiction can change who we are and how we act. I've seen it with Dash when he spirals, blames himself for too many things, and then hits the fight clubs. "The door is open," I say. "I'm sorry you had to come. He said you were traveling."

"I just got back from Paris, but my absence from the party was more like hiding in the studio trying to get out of a slump. I need to stay out of the public eye and just focus. All this Hollywood stuff seems to be in my head."

I know a few things about Malcolm. One being he likes fine whiskey. Another is that sometimes he needs to just come down a bit and talk through things. Maybe Tyler can be that for him. I know he's been there for Dash and known just the way—man to man—to snap him out of shit, and vice versa.

"You need to stop thinking so much," I say. "And I know just the way. You're a whiskey lover, right? Don't tell him I told you, but rumor is, Tyler stashes some pretty exclusive bottles in his safe."

Malcolm's lips curve and he glances at Tyler. "The word is out, man. What do you have?"

Tyler motions to the door and says, "Since the word is out, let's go take a look."

"That's what I'm talking about," Malcolm replies, his mood shifting, lighter now. He offers me his hand and when I accept, he catches my hand. "You, gorgeous lady, are always professional, sharp, and just killing it for my career. Thank you. And I'm deeply sorry."

"My pleasure. Now go relax and enjoy that whiskey. We'll talk next week about what's next for you." He kisses my hand, but there is nothing sexual about any of his affection. It's all country gentlemen, a language a girl in Nashville learns to understand.

Tyler motions to the door again, and Malcolm starts walking. Tyler lingers a second, his gaze warm on my face, when he says, "You owe me a bottle of whiskey when he gets a payday."

"No," I say. "You will owe me a commission."

He actually laughs and walks away, and those butterflies are back, where the bees should be. Because Tyler Hawk is a bastard. I'd best never forget that.