Bastard Boss

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THRTY-EIGHT

Bella

I cannot believe I'm doing this. He sent me to my room. He basically rejected me, and what am I doing? Hunting him down, which is craziness, but apparently, I'm highly committed to this decision because my feet just keep on walking.

With nerves tap dancing in my belly, I step into the entryway of the bar and my eyes cut through the dim lighting to land on Tyler, sitting at a table and nursing a half-filled glass. My heart races and my body is in overdrive, shooting hormones left and right but with good reason. Tyler Hawk sits at a table like he's a king. He owns the bar. I'm fairly certain he owns my body, which probably means I should have stayed in my room, but that ship has sailed.

At present, his gaze is fixed on his phone as if he's reading a message, and I take advantage of his distraction. With a deep breath, I close the space between me and him and I've slid into the seat in front of him before he ever knows I'm present.

His gaze lifts, eyes darkening, his reaction to my presence unreadable in their depths as he says, "Bella."

There is something utterly arousing about how he says my name, as if he's breathing me in with a word. But maybe that's what I want to be happening. Maybe it's more utter frustration that he can't get rid of me. He sets his phone down on the table, "What are you doing here?" he asks, which only serves to stir an extra special dose of insecurity that settles hard in my already nervous belly.

I set my room key on the table. "You gave me the wrong room. I thought I could exchange the key and leave you this one. I'll get my stuff out and—"

"It's your room, Bella. I wanted you to have it."

"Why would you give me the better of the two rooms? You're the boss."

"Because you deserve it."

I wet my lips and there is no missing the way his eyes follow my tongue. I suck in a breath and fight the urge to fold my arms in front of me to ease the ache of my nipples. Instead, I settle them on the table and lean in close, and the choice of room is the last thing on my mind.

"Talk to me. As a friend, not an employee."

"Some would say you can't be both," he replies. "I'm your friend, Bella. Screw some, whoever they are."

He strokes his jaw, and I can't help but notice his hands, his long fingers. I can't help but think about them on my body. I force myself to focus on what is important. He is important. "Talk to me," I urge again.

"I was just thinking about my father."

"What about him?"

"He was a bastard to me, but I learned a lot of useful things from him. It's hard to reconcile that the man who built a billion-dollar empire and held me to the standards he did, and the one who took an innocent life."

I'm shocked at his openness, but also twisted in knots. He's thinking about Allison, not me, and how horrible is it of me to even have these thoughts about him when he's grieving? I'm a horrible person. "Did you love her?"

His eyes sharpen and so does his voice. "Asked and answered. I didn't love her, Bella, but that makes me feel like a real prick. I still have her journal. I can't bring myself to even read the damn thing. It's all about me. It's a hard viewpoint to swallow."

The waitress appears and gives me a once over I don't really understand. "A drink?" she asks, and it hits me then that she had her sights set on Tyler. I don't like it. Not one bit.

I eye Tyler's bottle of whiskey, Macallan 25, an insanely expensive bottle. "I'll have some of his," I say and reach across the table, taking the glass right out of his hand, and sipping the smooth-as-silk whiskey.

When I'm done, the waitress is gone. Tyler's lips quirk. "That's the way to get rid of her."

"I wasn't getting rid of her, but I've never actually tried the 25. It's amazing."

"So you thought you'd just have a sip from my glass?"

"Is that a problem?" I challenge.

He eases forward, closing much of the space between us. "No, Bella. It's not a problem. Friends tonight, right?"

"If that's true, why were you down here drinking alone?"

He studies me a moment and eases back in his seat, almost as if I've reminded him why talking to me is a bad idea. "I was trying to protect you."

"From what? You?"

"Yes. From me."

"We've covered this. I don't need protection. Tell me what's going on with you, Tyler. Use tonight to actually talk to someone who you can trust. And you can trust me."

"I know I can trust you."

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's not appropriate to talk to you about this," he says.

"Not appropriate? I think that ship has sailed with us."

He downs the contents of his glass and refills it. I take the glass right out of his hand again. It's mine now. "Use me, not the bottle."

"Use you." He laughs a bitter laugh. "You have no idea what a loaded offer that is, Bella."

"I am many things, but naïve is not one of them."

"You'll just end up hating me and I really don't want you to hate me. I'm actually surprised by just how much I don't want you to hate me, Bella."

He's confusing me again, sending mixed messages. "I'm not as delicate as you think."

"I have never thought of you as delicate except when you were on my tongue, woman, and that was the right kind of delicate. You're special, Bella. Sweet like honey and pure fire at the same time."

I swallow hard with the surprisingly intimate and wildly erotic words he's spoken, and there is no escaping a memory of him on his knees, licking my clit while I moaned. But I shove it aside with rough insistence, all too aware of what he's doing. "You can't shock me into seeing nothing but sex, Tyler. Because sex is clearly how you solve problems. But this is how easily I shock. This isn't about how I taste on your tongue. It's about something else. What is that something else?"