Holidays with the Billionaire

Chapter 27

Adlee

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T hree weeks have passed and things are going well in the office. Nobody suspects a thing and Kelton and I keep it professional. It is sometimes hard for me to keep a neutral expression when I’m talking to him with other people around, but maybe I’m overthinking it that anyone could suspect anything.

We spend the weekends together, usually at his place, but don’t see each other a lot during the week, mostly because he works late a lot. We don’t go many places around here due to us not wanting to be seen together, but we venture out sometimes. It’ll get harder in the warmer months once the hats and jackets come off that sort of hide us.

It doesn’t really feel like sneaking around, but it’s still a little bit exciting to be having an illicit affair with the boss. It feels so naughty but also so right because we truly feel like we’re each other’s person. Kelton asked if I believed in soulmates and I wasn’t sure at the time. But the more time I spend with him, the more I believe. I’ve had casual boyfriends in the past, and I never felt for them the way I feel for him. It’s not just his looks or money. He listens to me, wants to know about my life. He remembers small things like I don’t like tomatoes and love unicorns. He even bought me a unicorn plushie pillow that I keep at his house.

I’ve learned that he doesn’t like reality TV or really any television shows at all, and mostly watches sports or news. He likes to sleep on his side and face the window. He doesn’t really like to talk about his hockey days but will if I bring it up and ask questions. He has a few male friends that are mostly from hockey, and a knee injury ended his career. I sometimes look around his big house and wonder if he ever got lonely all these years there by himself.

But he doesn’t seem like it. He seems like an extremely well-rounded person, almost perfect in every way, and a part of me admits that I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like, he has to have some faults. He’s obviously not perfect and has some quirks that take some getting used to, like his coffee obsession and needing to have a pot on all weekend. Or how he makes the bed. But they don’t bother me. I haven’t really seen him with a temper either, but of course I’ve never seen him extremely angry so who knows.

I realize I should not be trying to find fault in him, as he doesn’t seem to be doing that with me either. Maybe we’re just two normal people who found each other.

I should not be daydreaming at my desk because when Gabe walks up with his coffee cup in hand, he startles me.

“Oh, my God,” I say, my hand over my heart.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” he asks.

“Some boring spreadsheets. You taking a coffee break?” I ask. Then I notice his tie has little fingers all over it—middle fingers in every color. From afar it just looks like a weird pattern. “Really?” I ask, pointing at it.

“Cool, huh? Next time Laskin asks me for something, I’m gonna tell him to talk to the tie.” He grins as he puts the mug up to his lips.

“He’s too old to figure it out, and probably half blind too,” I reply dryly.

“Exactly,” Gabe replies. He glances at Kelton’s closed door, then to me. “So how are things going with Mr. Foxy?”

I grin. “Fine. We try to keep it cool at work. I hope nobody’s noticed us flirting.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I hear all the gossip and nobody’s said a thing. The only tongues wagging are about Lea and them wondering if she’s gonna boot you out of the job and you’ll have to go back to Laskin.”

I don’t want to tell him what Kelton told me, so I shrug. “I hope not. I like this job way better.”

He grins and waggles his eyebrows. “I bet you do. Way better eye candy over here.”

I laugh. “That’s true.”

“Okay, back to work,” he says, tapping my desk twice and walking off.

Kelton keeps me busy with tasks for the rest of the morning, and right before lunch, Gabe calls.

“Hey,” I answer, figuring he was asking me to lunch.

“I need you to get up and come to my desk right now . Do not act alarmed, just act normal.” Then, he hangs up.

Alarmed is an understatement. I can only hope he’s going to try to prank me or something. It wouldn’t be the first time.

I pop my head in Kelton’s office and tell him I’ll be back in a few minutes. He smiles and nods, then goes back to his computer screen.

As I walk through the office and pass people’s desks and cubicles, I try to smile politely like I always do, but there’s something in the air that feels tense. Some look at me then immediately look away. Others are smirking or scowling or shaking their heads.

What the hell is going on!

I arrive at Gabe’s desk. He pulls a chair over and practically plunks me down into it. We’re both behind his desk now and he’s not even looking at me. Instead, he’s wildly clicking his mouse, looking like he’s closing programs.

“What is it? You’re scaring me.”

“Look at this,” he says and I’ve never seen him so serious. He pulls up an email from a strange email address and it’s got five attachments. Your boss isn’t who he pretends to be... is written in the body of the email.

Gabe clicks on the first and all the color drains from my face. It’s the photo from the dance where Kelton’s dipping me with his hand on my thigh.

“I sent that to you. Did you email it to yourself or something?” I ask my friend hopefully.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t send this email. We all got it. Keep watching.” He continues to open attachments. A photo of Kelton and me ice skating in Denver recently.

A photo of us in the café sitting by the window, my hand on his.

Another one of us kissing with the passenger door to his Bugatti open right before he let me in.

A snapshot of his car outside my apartment complex with a 2:22 a.m. timestamp.

Another one of us in very casual clothes walking into a bakery and picking up breakfast while holding hands. Kelton’s looking down at me and has his other hand on my ass, and I specifically remember that was taken last weekend.

The more pictures I look at, the more mortified I become. Not only mortified but terrified. Someone has been following us.

“Thank God there were no nudes,” Gabe says.

I guess he’s right about that, but these are enough. The damage is done. I have to tell Kelton.

I use the mouse to forward the email to myself and I get up and walk off without another word. I keep my head high and my vision straight ahead, hearing whispers as I go.

I sit at my desk, and with shaking hands, I open the email and pop my head into Kelton’s office again.

“That was fast,” he replies with a smile. Seeing my face, his smile drops. “What’s wrong?”

“Come here, please,” I say.

He gets up and comes around my desk, and I open the email and then all the attachments. He’s getting more furious with each one. Then, he glances at the email. “Gabriel sent you this?”

“No. I mean, yes, but it went to the whole office. Everyone except us, apparently. The whole office knows, Kelton.” My voice chokes and tears well. I don’t want to cry but I’m so mortified. How does this look? Like I’m the office slut, fucking the boss.

“Jet fucking Keystone!” He grabs my coffee cup and hurls it at the wall, where thankfully it’s paper but it was half full. It spills coffee down the wall where is pools on the floor.

I flinch. I’ve never seen him so mad. I heard him talking to Jet a few weeks ago and he was angry then, but I never saw him visibly angry or violent.

“What do we do?” I whimper.

He points to my computer. “Forward that to me. I’m calling HR then my attorney. And you—go home for the rest of the day.” He then goes into his office and slams the door.

I start crying. I’ve definitely lost my job.

I sit in my apartment staring at the television but not really watching it. I’ve got my knees up to my chest, my arms wrapped around them. I left at noon when he told me to, but I haven’t heard a peep from him at all. Gabe called to check on me and told me not to worry, it’ll blow over. He was very sweet in defending me. He explained that he told the office gossip hens they were just jealous they couldn’t bag someone as fine as Mr. Foxy. It made me laugh at the time, but of course now I’m back to sulking.

Did Jet Keystone really do that? Have us followed like some stalker and take pictures of us? Why wouldn’t he try to blackmail Kelton with them first before just sending them to everyone in our office? How did he even do that, anyway?

Ugh, my head hurts. Who cares about the logistics. I wish Kelton would call me and comfort me. Tell me everything will be okay. But he hasn’t so much as texted, and I haven’t reached out to him. Honestly, his anger scared me, but I understood it. I could tell from the first time I met Jet that he and Kelton did not get along. He told me the wealthy Keystone has been trying to buy out his family’s property in Aspen Peak for years—decades, even—but he never relented. I even thought it was sweet when he talked about how he’ll need to have children even if only for the sole purpose of keeping the property away from the Keystones in the future. I knew he was half joking but he did say it like he wanted to have those children with me.

We’ve only been together for a few weeks at this point, but I really did think we were heading to something serious, even if it was just saying I love you. Then maybe moving in together or something. I don’t know. But the progression felt natural, and being with him was as easy as breathing.

Is this merely a hiccup in our plans? A little bump in the relationship that we have to get through? Maybe. But there’s my job to consider too. Will I be moved back to Mr. Laskin’s assistant, or will HR fire me altogether?

But Kelton owns the company, doesn’t he? Doesn’t he get a say on who he can and cannot sleep with? Sure, it’s not very ethical, but it’s not like we’re married to other people and having some torrid in-office affair. We are in love. We haven’t said it yet, but it is what it is. We are going to have a future together—or we were. Now I have no idea where we stand.

Gabe texts to check on me and I assure him I’m fine, even though I’m not. There’s nothing he or anyone else can do for me. Only Kelton. The urge to reach out is strong but I think he needs some cooling off time. I’m not one to insert myself where I’m not wanted so I’ll let him reach out to me. The problem is, it’s Tuesday and I don’t know if I’m supposed to show up at work tomorrow. If I don’t hear from him, I’m going to call in sick. I can’t face the office right now. Not only do they all probably think I’m a ho, they probably think I was sent home early today for disciplinary reasons.

And maybe I was.

I’m sure I’ll be hearing from HR.

Then I remember the shareholders I met at the ski resort retreat. They were all very nice. I know his brother is one of them, but Laskin is also one, along with about five or six others. Won’t they have something to say about Kelton’s behavior? They have a financial stake in the company too. The board is there for checks and balances. If they want me fired, I bet Kelton wouldn’t have a choice.

I’m tired of all these mental gymnastics I’m going through. I get up, head to the fridge, and pull out the only alcohol I keep in here—a bottle of white wine. Not bothering with a glass, I pop the temporary cork out and lift it up. “Maybe you will shut my brain off.” I tip my head back and take a swig.