Page 23 of The Boss

“Ashlee Webb,” Ashlee answered with a smile that didn’t look any more real than mine did.

Roma’s eyes flicked over Ashlee once and then turned back to me, clearly dismissing her as no competition. Because that’s how Roma would see another woman on my arm. Competition for my affection. As if I’d needed a woman at my side to have wanted to break things off with her.

Further confirmation that Roma had never understood how I thought.

“Would you get me something to drink, Bradley?” Roma practically purred.

“You can go with him,” I suggested. “I have other people to talk to.”

Roma wiggled her fingers at her date – one of New York’s bluest bloods who enjoyed rubbing elbows with those in the music industry – but never took her eyes off me. Her voice was low. “Send her on her way, Nate, and the two of us can find a little private space to have some fun. Or maybe a little public space. We can invite some people to watch. I know how you like that.”

I felt Ashlee release my arm, and I knew she was walking away, but I didn’t look at her. I needed to take care of Roma before anything else. I couldn’t let her make a scene, not here, not tonight. I was in charge, and she needed to understand that even though we weren’t together, my control still mattered. All she was doing was making it more obvious that I never should have been involved with her in the first place.

“I’m going to say this once,” I said firmly. “Stay away from me. Keep your mouth shut. If you make a scene here, your career is over. I will use every contact I have to blackball you from here to L.A. Clear?”

Fifteen

Ashlee

I’d knowntonight was going to be awkward when I saw people who knew me, and I’d known that Nate had a long list of previous lovers, but I hadn’t anticipated those two things coming together for one massively embarrassing scene. If Nate wanted to leave with another woman, that was his prerogative. I wasn’t his girlfriend, and this wasn’t a date.

Still, I didn’t want to be present when he made that decision. I’d put up with people like that woman my whole life, and most of the time, I’d been the bigger person. Sometimes, to do that, I’d had to walk away, which was what I’d done a few minutes ago.

Now, I put together a plan of action. I wouldn’t be the sort of woman who’d wander around, trying to act as if I wasn’t searching for a date who’d disappeared with someone else. Instead, I’d get myself a drink and linger at the bar, looking for Mr. Hancock. Since he was my boss, I could play it off as work-related to anyone who might wonder what I was doing. I’d make some small talk with him, and if I hadn’t spotted Nate by the time we were called to dinner, I’d assume he wasn’t looking for me and call a cab.

Maybe I could even get home before too late and be able to finish the book I’d been reading. Getting out of these heels would be relief enough, honestly. It was moments like this when I wondered if I was really cut out to be in the A&R department. I was great with the organizational part of things, and I didn’t necessarily mind talking to people as I worked out details, but this aspect of the job didn’t particularly appeal to me. Small talk. Schmoozing. Pretending to be interested when I wasn’t. I could do it, but I didn’t like it. The real question was if I disliked it enough to change my career path.

I checked my reflection one more time and ran my pinky finger along my bottom lip, smoothing out my lip gloss. I hadn’t come in here to cry or anything like that, but I didn’t want anyone to think that’s why I’d left in the first place. Any reapplication of makeup would only fuel the rumor mill. It’d be a toss-up if the gossip would be tears or sex – maybe both.

I’d only gone half a dozen steps down the short corridor before stopping abruptly when someone stepped in front of me.

“Hello there, sugar.”

I recognized the voice immediately.

“Mr. Hipwood,” I said politely. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Call me Zed, sugar,” he said as he leered at me.

I knew Zed Hipwood was in his mid-thirties like Nate, but Zed looked at least ten years older. Dark hair with more product than should have been legal. Blood-shot eyes with pupils almost big enough to completely obliterate the brown irises. A lean body that had a scrawny, unhealthy appearance. The smell of alcohol was almost overwhelming, but my gut said he wasn’t simply drunk. No track marks on his arms, but in college, I’d written a paper on the drug epidemic, and I’d learned that a lot of junkies would shoot up between their toes to hide their habit.

“I’m Ashlee Webb from the A&R department.” I might’ve been introducing myself, but I was also making sure that he knew I was here with the record label. I didn’t consider myself a cynic, but I also wasn’t naïve enough to think that someone who might be a decent enough guy when sober couldn’t be something else entirely when drunk and high.

“Are you one of my perks?” He moved closer to me, licking his lips. “Nice to know Stuy-boy knows what side his butter’s breaded on.”

“I’m not aperk, Mr. Hipwood.” I kept my tone professional, not giving any indication as to my opinion regarding his requests. “I’m Stu Hancock’s personal assistant.”

Zed laughed. “And here I thought he was a fag. Must not be if he’s banging you.”

My hands curled into fists, but I maintained my calm, cool demeanor. “If you’ll excuse me…” I took a step to the side, hoping to walk around him, but he moved with me, closing the distance between us even more.

“What do ya say we go find your boss and have him gimme the key to my band’s room?” He stared down the front of my dress, not even bothering to try to hide what he was doing. “I get first dibs, but they’re all gonna love to get a piece of you.”

“I’m not interested.” My jaw protested how tightly I was gritting my teeth, but I didn’t plan on losing my temper over some drunk asshole’s assumptions. Especially a drunk asshole who brought in a lot of money for my employer.

I moved around him and made it two more steps before he grabbed my arm. And then he grabbed my ass.

I quickly twisted out of his grasp and grabbed the hand that was on my ass. Even in a dress, I was fast enough to get his arm behind his back, his wrist on its way to meet his shoulder blades. He bent backward to try to take the pressure off and succeeded only in putting him closer to my height so I could get better leverage.

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