Teaching The Boss Page 8

  Jessica snorted. “Whatever you tell yourself. Now, his car is going to be here in five minutes. Do you have everything?”

  Just as she’d done with Sam, April had insisted she pay her own way across town to get to the hotel where the celebration was being held, but Donald had flatly refused. He’d insisted it would look bad on him if one of his invitees arrived in a dirty, yellow, outdated automobile. Those were his words anyway.

  “I have makeup, money, ID, and the overnight bag I’m not going to use.”

  “Come on! Rooms there cost more than a month of rent. Even if you don’t agree with why he got you the room, take advantage of what he’s offering you for free!”

  April slipped into her black high heels. “Nothing is free, Jessica. Mr. Hunt is planning something and I’m trying my best not to play his games.”

  “Says the woman about to get into the car he sent over.”

  April set her hands on her hips. “Seriously? Do you think I haven’t tried to get out of this fifty different ways?”

  “I think there’s a part of you that still asks ‘how high?’ when Sam, or someone related to Sam, asks you to jump. What did Sam say when you told him about Donald’s ‘plans’?”

  “That he had it under control,” muttered April. She’d sent Sam one more obscure text, though the ambiguity of this one was unavoidable. She really didn’t know what Donald was planning. Don’t go to Jack Mason’s party. Donald is planning something and it’s not good. I don’t know any more.

  “Then why even go?” asked Jessica.

  “Because I think Sam is full of himself and might be in over his head. The only one in this city who might know business better than Sam is his father. Sometimes I worry that when two people like that go up against each other, there are no winners. Just a path of destruction in their wake.”

  “Just promise me one thing,” said Jessica.

  “Umm, okay…”

  “Promise you won’t spend the night with Sam in that fancy hotel room.”

  April wanted to laugh at the outrageous notion, but nothing came out. The notion of her and Sam spending a night together was no longer a far-off fantasy of hers. They’d kissed. He’d wanted to do it again.

  “As I said, I’m not planning on staying.” April collected her purse and the overnight bag.

  “That’s not a promise. And no skirting it by staying in his room!” she called as April opened the door.

  As she turned the interior locks, April laughed. “Fine. No hanky-panky tonight. All dressed up and no one to do.”

  “Good Lord. I’ve made a monster.” Jessica squeezed between April and the doorjamb and into the hallway.

  They must’ve made quite a pair: the model wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and the college student wearing a couture gown. “Are you sure I can’t give you a ride in my fancy car?” asked April.

  “No! This is your night,” Jessica insisted. She’d been saying that all day, even after April pointed out nothing about this night was for her.

  April wrapped her arms around Jessica. “Thanks for everything. The makeup, the dress. It’s better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

  “Ah, hun. You’re a blast to make over. You need to get asked out by more billionaires.”

  April pushed her away in mock anger. “You had to go and ruin the moment.”

  Jessica laughed as she pushed open the door that led to the street and held it open for April. “You know it.”

  ~~~~~

  Sam took a long swig of water as the car lurched forward again just before it jerked to a stop. The driver must be new. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten such a headache from a New York commute. He thought he’d become immune to the constant accelerating and braking by now. Apparently not, he thought as the car repeated the lurching and stopping process.

  Oksana must’ve felt it too. She brought her fingers to her forehead and rubbed her temples. “How much longer is the drive?”

  The car hit a bump and Sam groaned. “Ten minutes, tops.”

  “I’d ask him to go faster, but I don’t think my head could survive the whiplash,” muttered Oksana.

  Sam chuckled and set his head back. What he wouldn’t give for this night to be over already. After the text messages he’d gotten from April, he was in full battle mode. He’d been having daily meetings with the auditors and they were set to finalize the reports needed for the initial public offering within the week. He’d been golfing with the Bs at least once a week, and their relationship was stronger than ever. Knowing Donald, he was playing dirty. Sam just needed to ensure that when Donald did make his move, the Bs would feel comfortable coming to Sam before doing anything rash.

  “I was surprised you invited me tonight.” Oksana scrolled through her phone on the other side of the car.

  The backseat was spacious enough for well over a foot to separate him from where she and the ruffles of her dramatic black gown sat. After his blowout with April—well, the second blowout—he’d distanced himself from Oksana. Any hope of a relationship had died when April had first quit, but after the Jude Foundation gala, he’d dashed any hopes of them having a mutually beneficial, platonic relationship.

  But tonight was different. He had to have on his armor, and that was exactly what Oksana was great at. She could deflect attention and charm anyone she came into contact with. She didn’t need him fawning over her every second of the evening and was fully accepting of his limited affections.

  He needed all his attention on Donald, and Oksana was self-assured enough that she could glide about the room solo instead of clinging to his arm all night.

  “Oh,” she said in a softly surprised voice.

  “Oh?” he asked.

  “Your old assistant, April. It turns out she’s a bigger gold digger than I thought.”

  Sam stiffened at the mention of April. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Apparently she’s making quite a splash at this party. A friend of mine just sent me a picture of your father’s newest potential trophy wife. She really cleans up well.”

  He practically leapt across the seat as he snatched the phone out of her hand, but he could only see the lock screen. “Get it back,” he snapped.

  “Geesh, Samuel. This is exactly the reason I told you she was a bad influence.” Even as she spoke the words, she pulled the picture back up on the screen.

  Sam’s mouth went dry as he looked down to see his father and the striking woman who hung on his arm. Any similarity to the frumpy art student he’d met six years ago was gone. She looked like some type of ethereal goddess, just visiting the earthly realm to laugh at all the mortals who could never live up to her beauty. Her head was high and she had that perfect look that made her seem as if she fit right in with the crowd of heirs and high rollers.

  And she was with his father. What game was this? Why would she warn him away and show up as Donald’s date? Unless Donald wasn’t the one playing the game. Maybe she just wanted him out of the way as she made her move.

  The April he knew would never do something so scheming and diabolical, but this didn’t look like the April he knew. This woman was playing in a different league, and the pit in Sam’s stomach told him that he was the one being played.

  “They’re not on a date,” whispered Sam. God. Even he could hear the lack of conviction in the words.

  Oksana shrugged nonchalantly. “If you say so. But, between you and me, I know for a fact that dress retails at five figures. I doubt she paid for it out of her savings.”

  “Shut up,” he muttered, but her words had already sunk in. What other explanation was there? She’d told him to stay away, but there she was. Looking like a million bucks, wearing a million bucks. Rage pulsed through his veins and he clenched his jaw tightly. His father had bested him once again. It was just his style. Find the things the Sam cared about, wiggle his way in, and taint everything good in Sam’s life.

  And if April wanted to roll in the dirt, that was her problem. I
f there was one thing Sam didn’t need, it was dirty goods.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  April looked over the sea of heads that filled the ballroom, looking for any sign of Sam’s dark hair. She’d been trying to mingle with the coiffed guests, but with one eye on the door at all times, it was hard to get too invested in any of the banter.

  But the room was filled with businessmen and politicians, and each conversation was a potential opportunity or a new connection that could be used in the future. Jack Mason had wisely chosen an orchestra to play music quiet enough for people to converse and network, but energetic enough that couples filled the dance floor.

  Of course, April was a bit more antisocial than normal at the moment. Everyone was asking her about Donald. Where they met, how long they’d known each other, how serious it was…

  The only way she could avoid the barrage of questions was to keep moving. She’d circled around the room almost the entire forty-five minutes she’d been there. Her feet ached, but she couldn’t stop. Every time she even had her water refilled, a new guest would introduce themselves and start the inquisition.

  Part of her wished she’d stayed closer to Donald. At least he could’ve done some of the fielding for her. On the other hand, the more time she spent with him, the worse the speculation would get. Not that he would tell the press or other guests that they were together, but April’s time with Sam taught her exactly how much the press liked to gossip.

  So she roamed the exterior of the room and continuously scanned the unfamiliar faces. When she finally recognized one, it was the last person she expected. Though, now that she thought about it, Oksana showing up at the event of the year was hardly a surprise. She seemed to be everywhere April didn’t want her to be.

  And she looked gorgeous. The guests parted for her wherever she went. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a severe, simple bun, allowing the dress and her natural beauty to take all the attention. And the dress did grab attention. The intricate chiffon ruffles were tight at her tiny waist and dramatically got thicker and thicker as the material went lower, leaving a train to trail gracefully behind her.

  But the most shocking aspect of her look was the makeup. Not how outlandish or dramatic it was. What made April’s jaw drop was how similar it was to her own makeover. Lips so nude they almost disappeared, and all the focus drawn to an intense, gray smoky eye.

  April wasn’t sure how she felt about her and Oksana sharing the same look, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. If Oksana was around, chances were…there he was. He wasn’t facing her, but she would recognize Sam anywhere. Lips tightened in determination, April crossed the room toward the bar.

  Shimmying between the debonair tuxedos and couture gowns, April squeezed out of the crowd right behind Sam. “What are you doing here?” she bit out as she leaned against the bar.

  A muscle in his jaw ticked as he brought a glass of a golden liquid to his mouth and downed the contents in two big gulps.

  “Sam!” she whispered. Before he could slam the glass on the granite bar top, she snatched it out of his hand. “What is this?”

  “I wasn’t in the mood for apple juice.” He turned away from her to gaze out at the sea of New York’s finest.

  “Sam, I really think that you being here is playing right into your father’s hands. Are you sure you have this under control?”

  He shook his head, but still didn’t look at her. “What the fuck does it matter to you?”

  April jerked back at his harsh words. He was mad at her? How could he think she had anything to do with this? Even when he was furious at her for taking the job with his father, he’d trusted her reasoning. It wasn’t as if she was suddenly the bad guy.

  She leaned in closer to him and lowered her voice. “Sam, you know it matters to me. You matter to me.”

  Without looking down at her, his fingers gripped her arm and bit painfully into her flesh as he pulled her onto the dance floor. Wincing at the sensation, she went along with him. For one thing, she didn’t want to cause a scene. Another reason she allowed him to manhandle her was because once they were dancing, he’d have fewer escape routes than he had at the bar. Maybe then she could talk some sense into him.

  As soon as he found an empty space, he twirled her into his arms, simultaneously releasing his grip on her and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. The song was a fast tempo, but he didn’t seem to care. His body was pressed against hers. Under the guise of wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, she tried to push herself away and put an appropriate amount of space between them.

  Sam didn’t seem to care about appropriate at the moment, either. “You don’t want me touching you?”

  April decided to pick her battles and allowed herself to relax into his hold. She knew prying eyes on all sides stared intently at her. The strange woman who showed up on Donald Hunt’s arm and ended up pressed against his son on the dance floor. Heat filled her cheeks as she realized what everyone would think of her.

  “You come here with a man over twice your age, but dancing with me embarrasses you?” he whispered into her ear. His breath was warm as it cascaded down her neck; his emerging stubble was just long enough to tickle her sensitive flesh and send goose bumps along her arms.

  “I’m here for you,” she insisted, trying not to focus on the heat of his hard chest pressed up against her.

  “Please.” He finally backed off and gave her some space. “You put on a good act, but let’s face it. You left me the moment you got a better offer. Now here you are at the social event of the year. Are you looking for someone to dump Donald for? ’Cuz I hate to break it to you, but he’s as rich as they get. Better get used to seeing his wrinkly, old ass in the morning.”

  April rolled her eyes at his rambling. “You’re such an ass when you drink.” She twisted his pristine suit jacket in her fingers and pulled him closer. “You need to leave. Something bad is going to happen if you don’t,” she whispered.

  He leaned in closer and practically rested his forehead against hers. “Like what?”

  She let her eyes shut and took in a deep breath. The proximity of him and the anger he stirred in her made it hard to think. “I don’t know what. But the Bs are here and I know he has something on them. He’s going to make his move and you need to be ready.”

  Sam cocked his head as he looked down at her. “He doesn’t have a master plan to take over the business. You’re his master plan.”

  “What?”

  He moved away a few inches and swept her back into the motions of the dance. “It’s his favorite game. His power play. My father lives to prove how much better than me he is in every way. In high school, he funded all of the kid’s science projects except mine, saying I needed to learn how to succeed even with a disadvantage. My first manufacturing venture went under when he purchased the biggest competitor. I never had a chance once he started flooding capital into the company.”

  April’s jaw dropped at the confession. All those years of hearing about his hatred toward his father and he’d never hinted at the competitive nature of the relationship. “Are you sure he—”

  “But business is business, right? What got me, really got me, was Julia.”

  April blinked a few times, trying her best to remember to move her feet with the music. Who the hell is Julia?

  “When he found out I was going to get married, he couldn’t stop himself from trying to prove himself better just one more time.”

  “He didn’t,” whispered April. In the few times she’d seen Donald talk about Sam, he’d never seemed heartless or cruel.

  “She was a gold digger. Only wanted me for my money, but guess who had more? Once she figured out he wasn’t going to marry her, she left him, and I left them both.”

  April squeezed her arms tighter around him, trying to make him feel her support. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

  Abruptly he released her. “I can’t deal with your pity right now. Go run back to your new boss,” he snarled before he
turned to stride away, leaving her stranded on the dance floor.

  Unable to watch him head straight into his anger spiral, April took a step forward, but stopped herself. The next time she dealt with Sam, she’d drag him out of the hotel kicking and screaming, whether he wanted to or not. Before that, she needed to have words with Donald.

  She turned in the other direction and crossed the dance floor; the couples parted for her as though they felt her anger before they saw her.

  It wasn’t hard to find Donald. He was the one with a crowd of well-coiffed men fawning around him like teenage fangirls at a boy band concert. Undaunted by the power of his fan club, April pushed her way to his side. The men moved for her, but she caught the dirty glances they shot her out of the corner of her eye. “I need to talk to you,” she said to Donald.

  “Of course.” He set a hand on her elbow to lead her away from the crowd.

  As soon as they were clear of the angry gazes, April pulled her arm from his. “You knew Sam would think I was here with you,” she snapped.

  His eyes widened, and she tried to figure out whether his shock was genuine. “I didn’t know how he’d react. And I’ve hardly talked to you all night. Why would he think that?”

  She opened her mouth to snap again, but nothing came out. What set Sam off like that? She and Donald had walked in together and a few photographers snapped photos, but, as nice as this party was, it wasn’t the Oscars. Besides that quick walk into the ballroom, she had hardly spoken to Donald. What about that gave him enough reason to think she was with Donald?

  “He told me about Julia,” she said.

  Donald scoffed. “I told him she wanted more than his heart, but he was too blind to see the truth. I did him a favor.”

  “Just like you were doing him a favor by bringing me here? Tell me honestly. Were you really planning on making a move tonight or was bringing me meant to crush him?”

  Donald took a breath as he looked down on her. “I think the relationship between me and my son is a complex one, but I can assure you I only want what’s best for him.”