Captured by the Billionaire

Pursued Part 2

I will not cry, I will not cry, I repeated the mantra over and over as my new boss—soon to be my old boss—yelled at me. I was being fired for the first time in my life, and it sucked.

I bit my lip, fighting back tears. I'd never been able to stand confrontational situations, and although I considered myself fairly strong-willed, I had no tolerance for shouting. My parents had always talked things out calmly and rationally, so when the yelling started, I didn't know how to deal with it.

If someone were unjustly picking on me, I'd stand up for myself. As it was, I thoroughly deserved the dressing-down I was getting. Which made the urge to cry all the more difficult to resist.

What kind of inexperienced idiot spilled drinks all over the host of the party that they were catering? Now the Clearys would probably never hire Carly's Catering again, and landing this event had been the best thing that had ever happened to the company.

I felt like shit. I mumbled my earnest apologies and offered to stay and help in the kitchen for free for the rest of the night. Carly agreed with a stiff nod and abruptly left me so she could work on salvaging the evening.

I went about my tasks mechanically, putting myself of dishwashing duty as extra penance for my fuck-up. After several hours of avoiding the staff's glares, the party finally began to wrap up, and I prepared to leave.

I untied my apron and headed for the door, but I paused when someone tapped on my shoulder. Turning, I noticed the butler who'd admitted me to the ballroom. His censorious frown let me know Carly wasn't the only one aghast at my bumbling mistake, and he spoke to me in clipped tones.

"Are you Mallory Williams?" he asked.

My stomach sank as I nodded. This couldn't be anything good.

"Mr. Cleary would like to speak with you."

My stomach outright dropped, as though the ground had fallen away beneath me. I swallowed and forced a small, genial smile.

"Okay. I just need to straighten up a few more things," I lied.

I returned to the kitchen, fussing over drying a few dishes until the man left the room. Then I darted for the door.

I couldn't bring myself to face Jake Cleary. I'd been yelled at enough for one evening, and I didn't think I could take any more. Especially not from him. I thought of his powerful, intimidating demeanor and suppressed another shiver.

No way could I bear to face him.

Coward, I accused myself.

I shook it off. Why should I care? I'd already been fired, so I didn't have to worry about making Carly look bad by not complying with Mr. Cleary's request. And I was definitely never going to see the too-sexy billionaire again, so what did it matter if he got annoyed that I'd slipped out?

It doesn't matter, I assured myself. Just get home and try to forget this night ever happened.

I climbed into my beaten up old Corolla and shoved down the urge to tear out of the driveway, instead forcing my foot to only gently press the gas and drive at an appropriately slow speed. Within minutes, I'd passed through the tunnel of Oak trees, and my headlights once again illuminated the closed wrought iron gates.

They screen people before they go out, too? What is this guy, some sort of paranoid control freak?

The security guard was at my window again, and I rolled it down with a sigh.