Page 14 of Hooked on Dallas
Valerie smiles, relieved. “Good. Now, do you want to get dinner? We can find you a nice, single man with no power to ruin your life.”
I laugh and loop my arm through hers. “Yes, please. Save me from myself!”
Valerie laughs, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Alright, let me tell you about my own mistake so you can learn from it.”
She takes a sip of coffee and gazes out the window, her expression turning wistful. “A few years ago, I dated this lawyer from the Mergers and Acquisitions team. Thomas. He was charming, smart, and we had great chemistry.”
Valerie shakes her head with a rueful smile. “After we broke up, he started spreading vicious rumors about me. He said I only got my job by sleeping with the partners and that I didn’t do any work.”
I gasp, shocked at the malice. “That’s awful! What did you do?”
“At first, it devastated me,” she admits. “My reputation was damaged and people treated me differently. But then I marched into HR and reported his behavior. They investigated and found out he’d done it before to other women.”
Valerie’s eyes hardens. “Thomas was fired, and the partners issued an apology and statement clearing my name. It was still difficult, but I refused to let some jerk ruin my career.”
“I’m so sorry you went through that,” I say. My heart ached for my friend, even as I admired her strength.
Valerie gives me a wry half-smile. “The point is, you can’t predict how people will react after a breakup. No matter how charming or kind they seem, it’s just not worth the risk. Protect yourself and your career, Laura. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
Her words echo in my mind, a sobering reminder of what is at stake. Valerie is right—when it comes to Mr. De La Cruz, I will stay far away from trouble. My career depends on it.
Valerie watches me, gauging my reaction. “I can tell this is sinking in for you. That’s good—you’re too smart and dedicated to throw it all away for a fling.”
“You’re right,” I say. “I value my job and reputation too much. No man, no matter how charming, is worth jeopardizing that.”
Valerie smiles, relieved, and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad we had this talk. You know I only want the best for you.”
“I know,” I say, “and I appreciate your honesty more than I can say. You’ve helped me gain some much-needed perspective.”
My friend has done me a real favor, even if the message is hard to hear. While the idea of a romance with Dallas has seemed thrilling and irresistible before, now I see it for what it truly is—a recipe for disaster that I am better off avoiding altogether.Valerie has saved me from myself, and for that, I will be forever grateful.
9
Laura
The fluorescent lights flicker above as I stride into Mr. De La Cruz’s office, clutching a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of case files in the other. My heels click against the tiled floor, fueled by the three shots of espresso I downed on my way into the office.
I am ready to tackle anything. Bring it on Monday.
As I set the files on Mr. De La Cruz’s desk with a satisfied thud, a glint of gold catches my eye. There, beside his laptop, is a framed photo of a woman with wavy brown hair and a radiant smile. She looks familiar. A sister? Cousin?
My curiosity spikes. I haven’t heard him mention any family. He is tight-lipped about his personal life, but he has to have someone. A wife? Girlfriend?
I lean in for a closer look, tilting my head. The woman’s smile seems almost melancholic, as if she is gazing into the distance at something long gone.
Who is she? More importantly, who is she to him?
My heart races as I contemplate snooping through his desk drawers for more clues. This is dangerous territory, I know, but when has that ever stopped me before? I live for adventure, and this mystery woman is proving irresistible.
Just then, the door bangs open behind me. I jump, upending my coffee, and spin around to find Mr. De La Cruz looming in the doorway. My face burns under his flinty gaze.
Busted.
Mr. De La Cruz strides past me without a word and sinks into the leather chair behind his desk. I stand frozen in place, unsure if I should apologize or pretend nothing happened.
After a long moment of silence, he picks up the photo frame and runs a finger down the edge. His stony expression softens into something I can’t quite decipher. Sadness? Longing?
I clear my throat. Now or never. “Sir, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but who is the woman in this photo?”
