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The Grumpy Boss Cowboy Billionaire Chapter 15 71%
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Chapter 15

Emma

I awoke with a start and, squinted at the clock without my glasses. It was ten-thirty-seven-am.

“Damn that man beautiful man, keeping me up ‘til all hours,” I grumbled, unable to keep the grin from my face as I stepped into a pair of fresh panties before yanking up yesterday’s jeans.

We had a lot of damage control to do before the soft opening, especially considering yesterday’s fire, and I had overslept.

At least I had a good reason to be exhausted. I smirked, tugging a t-shirt over my head and stepping into my work boots. I jogged down the stairs, gathering my hair into a ponytail when I heard raised voices from the kitchen below me. I paused, listening.

“It’s never a good idea to mix sex with business, son.” A stern voice hissed in a whisper-shout. "I hoped you would have learned that lesson by now."

“This is different,” Victor grumbled.

“What’s different now, Victor? She’s not younger than you? She’s not from a lower social class? She’s not your employee?”

“She’s different, Dad. Emma doesn’t care about money or social status. She would love me if I was a nobody.”

“Oh really? She’s not driving your Land Rover then?”

"Not often." Victor made a frustrated sound. “It’s just different, okay! She’s nothing like Claire.”

His father’s voice changed, dropping to just above a whisper. “What if she’s your mole?”

There was a pause before Victor responded.

“How do you know about the mole?”

His father laughed, a condescending, derisive sound. “Do you honestly think that anything happens regarding my children that I don't know about? Your decisions affect us all.”

Victor sighed and I held my breath, expecting to hear him defend me, to go to bat for me, to assure his father that my loyalty was not in question.

“Look, we’re not ruling anyone out.” Victor's words drove through me like a knife. We’re not ruling anyone out. He wouldn’t rule me out? After everything?

I rested my back on the wall behind me, tuning out the rest of their conversation, before turning slowly and padding back up the stairs to my room. Curling into a ball, I allowed myself to furl out on the floor, grief and betrayal coursing through my system. I closed my eyes and let the tears flow.

It would be so much easier to embrace this relationship if I knew he trusted me, if he knew that I was in his corner a hundred percent. But that was obviously too much to ask of him. This made me question whether or not I was stupid for getting involved with someone like him in the first place. I lay on the floor and let the sorrow take over, throwing an arm across my face as I wept.

My phone buzzed, singing as it vibrated, sliding across the dresser and landing on the floor beside me. I put it to my ear with a sniffle.

“Hello?”

“You're alive after all!” Nahuel's voice brought a teary smile to my face. “Everyone's beginning to wonder if you're ever coming home. How are things down south?”

I could picture his smiling face, my good friend had always had my back through my first internship with the Historical Society.

“Ugh, I miss you! How’s the dig?” I could feel the tug of a smile on my cheek.

“Well, about that…our sponsor just opened up a second site, and they requested you personally to head it up. I wanted to see how much longer you had in that little podunk before you came and felt like getting your hands dirty with some real history.”

I started in surprise. “Wait, what?”

He laughed. “Yeah, baby girl. You are getting your name out there with this project you’ve got going on.”

“I hadn’t realized that that news made it all the way out there.”

He chuckled again. “That, and your sister keeps me updated.”

“Oh, did that finally come through for you?” He’d been mooning after my sister Grace since grad school, and I’d been encouraging him to act on it, knowing full well that my beautiful, shy, older sister harbored feelings for him, too.

“A gentleman never tells,” he said with a breathy laugh. “Would you have time for an interview this afternoon?”

I opened my mouth to say something to the effect of being busy, and unavailable, but stopped myself, thinking of the conversation I overheard downstairs. Victor might have given me an incredible opportunity that stood to open doors in the future, but he was also unsure of whether or not I was behind the fire. If there was even the slightest chance that he could fire me based on that suspicion, I needed to come up with a back up plan. Besides, what could it hurt to line up my next job before we finished this one? And I could check on my geckos and my house.

“I could make that happen.”

Hahuel exhaled in relief. “That’s great! Should I tell him to meet you at two o’clock?”

“Two is perfect.” I did a quick calculation in my head.

“See you in a couple of hours, love.” He disconnected, and my stomach churned as I momentarily second-guessed my decision.

Victor would be hurt if he knew I was talking to someone else about a job. I reminded myself that he had been hurt by a lot of women in his life, and this was the way he operated. The way his family operated. But unfortunately, I needed to look out for myself. I learned a long time ago that no one else was going to put me first and this was one of those times I needed to take my future into my own hands.

Hurriedly, I jumped up and washed my face, then switched to a clean pair of jeans, button-down, long sleeve, and a touch of mascara. This client was going to get Dr. Emma Pierce.

Satisfied with my appearance, I grabbed my purse and the Land Rover keys, then headed downstairs.

“You look awfully dressed up for somebody who is going to be cleaning up salvaged equipment and broken electronics.” Victor was standing at the foot of the staircase and glanced up at me as I descended.

My heart flip-flopped, my lower belly giving a little quiver as our eyes met. He was so handsome, especially today, wearing a sky-blue polo with dark navy jeans. I bit my lip as I approached.

“Good morning to you too.”

He grinned, stepping up to me and wrapping his arms around my middle, hands settling on my backside as he pulled me in for a kiss. Our lips met and my insides squirmed, my resolve shaking slightly. When he broke from the embrace, his bright eyes were shining with delight.

“Now that does make it a good morning.”

I gave him a shaky smile and nodded. “You said I had free rein of the Land Rover, yes?”

He smiled and nodded. “Of course. I even filled it up for you.”

I licked my lips, unsure how to start.

“I need to take a trip up north.” His dark brows dipped, and his mouth turned into a frown. “Something came up, back at home, that I need to take care of.”

Kindness washed over his features as he comprehended, if not what exactly was going on, but the implication of what I meant, and regret stabbed through me. He thought there was something going on with my family, not that I had a job interview.

He nodded, a gentle smile gracing his face. “We’re going to be doing fire damage cleanup and safety meetings today, anyways. Nothing I need the Project Manager for.” He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Hope all goes well back at home.”

My guilt hammered at me and I swallowed hard, trying not to cry at his generosity and understanding. “I’ll call you to let you know when I get there, and when I’m heading back this way.”

He blinked his eyes at me and touched the end of my nose. “Best you do. Need to know my girl is safe.”

His girl. The words struck me in the gut like a fist as his conversation with his father from this morning came rushing back. I bobbed my head quickly and dodged around him, hoping to make it to the truck before the tears started flowing.

Thank goodness for waterproof mascara, because I cried for about an hour on the way out to Sedona, stopping right outside of town at a gas station to fix my face, before following Nahuel’s directions to the dig site. I parked next to Nahuel’s red pickup, and a shiny black Mercedes sedan. Must belong to the site sponsor, I thought as I passed behind it. The license plate read HTGHSG, and somewhere deep in my mind, there was a prickle of familiarity.

Had I seen it somewhere before? I didn’t think so, and pushed it from my mind as I entered the giant canvas tent pitched in the middle of the tied off square. Nahuel hugged me as I entered and gestured toward his companions. A tall Indian man stood waiting in the middle, large black beard and turban painted with red dust from the desert outside. His eyes looked almost black behind his large glasses and he gave me a wide grin as I stepped into the tent, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting.

Inside, an archaeological base camp had been assembled, tables lining the walls, equipment and gadgets still loaded in their protective hard side cases, ready to be unpacked. He stepped forward, offering a large brown hand.

“You must be Emma.”

I smiled at him, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. “I am. Dr. Emma Pierce.”

“I’m Dr. Prakash Balaswami, but you can call me Prakash. I’m the Program Director from the Sedona Museum of History, I see you already know Nahuel, and this...” He gestured behind him to a man in a suit. “This is the program sponsor, Mr…”

“Frederick Hastings.” I finished for him as he turned around. “The Third, if I’m not mistaken?”

He gave me a crocodile smile—all teeth, as he took my hand and shook it firmly.

“Correct you are, Dr. Pierce. I’m flattered you remembered.”

I kept my face neutral as he showered me with flattery. “Yeah, no. I’m not working with you.”

Nahuel started and looked at me in horror. “Em, at least hear him out.”

Dr. Balaswami looked a little taken aback and embarrassed. “Mr. Hastings, I’m so sorry…”

Hastings raised a hand, effectively silencing the other man.

“No apologies needed, Dr. Balaswami, Dr. Rodriguez. There’s no harm done.” He gave me another bright white smile. “Dr. Pierce and I simply got off on the wrong foot on another project. May we have a moment alone?”

Nahuel looked back and forth between us before giving me a questioning look as he and Dr. Balaswami exited the tent, out to the dig site. Hastings was silent as they departed before turning toward me. I expected his facade to crack when they were out of earshot, expected him to threaten me, try to blackmail me, something. Instead, he strode over to the table where a coffee station had been haphazardly put together.

“Are you a coffee or tea person, Dr. Pierce? We have both.”

I kept my guard up as I tracked his movement across the room. “Tea, please.”

I watched as he went through the motions of making me a cup of tea, then one for himself. After he had them steeping, he motioned I should sit down at one of the tables, taking the other seat beside it. He sipped his tea, then sat back and set it on the table next to him. I held the hot beverage, the porcelain saucer growing warm on my leg, as I stared at him.

His dark eyes studied me as he laced his fingers and clasped them around his knee.

“The Sullivans have money, but not the kind of money that I have access to.” He leaned forward. “I don’t know what he offered you. I don’t care. What I do know is that I can double your money. Hell, I can triple it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You really believe that. You don’t even know what the number is and you know you can triple it?”

"I don't hire anyone unless I know their value." He spread his hands wide, palms open. “I’m a very generous employer, and your work speaks for itself.”

“Victor and the other residents of Cactus Creek think you’re the literal Devil.”

"Yeah." A look of sadness passed over his eyes and he nodded. “And, sadly, they're not the first to feel that way.” He leaned forward, tenting his fingers. “Most opponents of change feel that the forces of transition are evil. But believe it or not, I care about Cactus Creek, and everyone who lives and works there.”

I set the cup on the table, untouched. “Why should I believe you?”

He made a contemplative face and sat back. “That’s a valid question, Dr. Pierce. You can believe me because I’m happily married, I’ve been married for over fifteen years to the love of my life, my childhood sweetheart, mother of my four children. I’ve never cheated, not once, in love or business.” He met my gaze, unblinking. “Those people who have hated me after interactions in the past hated me because they were clinging to the edifices of a decadent past, hoping that holding fast to something dying would keep it alive. I took these things that were meaningless, broken places, and turned them into useful places of commerce. And if you ask the residents of any of my communities, they'll tell you that their cost of living is more affordable. Commutes are better, and safety is exponentially better than before.”

I cocked my head to the side. “And yet here you are, propositioning me to head up an archaeological dig site—another one of these ‘meaningless broken places’.” I shook my head. “I don’t think any part of the historical record, regardless of how minute, is meaningless, even if it's broken.” I rose to my feet. “I think I’ll stick with the devil I know. Victor at least respects the value of the historical past.” I turned to walk away. “Thanks for the tea.”

“He may not be the man that you think he is.”

I paused next to the tent flap, weighing turning around or running away. “Meaning?”

He had withdrawn a large brown envelope from his jacket pocket and tossed it into the chair I had just vacated. “See for yourself.”

I came over to the chair and picked up the weighty envelope. “I have to go.”

He reached into the other pocket of his jacket and handed me a business card. “When you change your mind, call my cell. We can go over numbers and benefits.”

Without another word, I turned and walked out of the tent, going directly to the Land Rover and starting it up, throwing the envelope on the passenger seat.

The drive back to Cactus Creek seemed to take far less time than I needed to compose myself. I pulled into the drive of the mansion and struggled to park it, my hands were shaking so badly. The golf cart that we had been using to get to and from the park was gone, so it must still be early enough that Victor was still over there, working.

Quickly, I grabbed my stuff from the truck and raced inside the house, charging up the stairs to my room. I did something I hadn’t done since I’d been staying here and locked the door, then turned to the brown envelope laying on my bed. It felt like a smoking gun. Hesitantly, I lifted the gold prongs on the clasp and lifted the flap, and took a deep breath, pouring out the contents onto the coverlet. I spread them out and began my study.

Whatever I thought was in there, this was worse. Photo after photo of Victor, looking very intoxicated, with many different women—in various states of undress. All tall. All model-thin, with high-cheekbones, gaunt faces, and vacant eyes.

A redhead caught my eye, and I looked closer at her. She wore a black lacy bra and matching panties that both left very little to the imagination, and she stood over Victor, straddling his lap, his erection clearly visible through his slacks. I squinted at her face, then drew it away from me in disgust when I realized—the redhead in this photo was Victor’s assistant. His current assistant. Claire.

Claire.

My heart sank lower as I realized that’s who Victor and his father were comparing me to. Victor dated his personal assistant, his employee.

I sniffed, trying to hold back tears as I began reading through the documents beneath the photos. Arrest records. Gag orders. Blackmail letters. Accusations of exploitation and fraud. If these pages were to be believed, Victor had been committing crimes for almost as long as I’ve been a legal adult. He was the only person involved in this project who had any sort of criminal record.

I had a hard time reconciling the man I knew with what I had just seen. I knew he was a shameless flirt and ladies' man, but violence against women? Blackmail? I couldn’t see it.

I shuffled the photos into the envelope, following them with the papers, and clasped it back shut. Yanking open the top drawer of my dresser, I shoved it down to the bottom and pushed several pairs of socks on top of it.

When the renovation was completed, I would double-check the validity of Hastings’ claims and address it calmly and directly with Victor. As for the women? We would see what he had to say.

There were an awful lot of women in those photos. I hugged an arm around myself, feeling slightly uncomfortable. I was no saint, I’d had a number of friends with benefits while going through college and grad school. But that count didn’t even touch a third of the number of women pictured in these photos.

Clearly, he had a history of being a playboy, he pretty much said as much. Didn’t he? Was he a womanizer? Could he be satisfied with settling with just one woman?

It was obvious I had a lot to think about tonight.

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