Beautiful Bastard Book 4 - Page 93

“Well, I’m not sure if we’re a thing anymore, but it is what it is.” She leaned forward, tilting her head as she asked, “Tell me what happened?”

And like this, with my head in my hands and pulse thudding anxiously in my throat, I confessed the entire affair to Portia.

I told her about New York, Tony’s not being able to come and Ruby coming in his place. I told her about Ruby’s feelings for months before I was aware, her beauty, her humor, and how she put me at ease so immediately. I told her about my fears, my longing, my hesitation. And, although I likely didn’t need to, I told her how I knew she needed more from me—more communication, more intimacy—and I sincerely tried to do it right.

“And then I came here for dinner,” I admitted. “I couldn’t tell her it was nothing without feeling like I was lying—because I did intend to hear you out, Portia—but I didn’t want her to think that I was coming back to you, either. She looked shattered.” I groaned, remembering her vacant expression, the way she’d absently wandered from the room and out of the building entirely. “I’ve made a terrible mess of this.”

“Niall,” she said, voice soothing. “You know you’ve got to fix it.”

I nodded, feeling sick. I didn’t know if it was that easy. I’d messed up, enormously.

She paused. “I love you, you know?”

Her voice held a rare poignancy. She’d said this only a handful of times during our marriage and here, the words spilled out so much more readily.

Smiling up at her, I said, “Love you, too, Porsh.”

And then, the familiar command returned: “Fix it.”

I jogged down the steps to the street, already dialing Ruby’s number.

It rang, and rang.

I’d never heard her voice mail recording before, and hearing her voice while my heart was clutched with an uneasy panic only made me feel more urgent.

“Hi, this is Ruby! Leave me a message and I’ll probably just text you back because I’m terrible about calling but if you’re calling this number you probably already know that about me and I’m already forgiven.” Beep.

“Ruby,” I began, “it’s me, Niall. I’ve . . .” I trailed off, pulling at my hair. “I’ve just left Portia’s. Ruby, I don’t know why I went there. I shouldn’t have gone. Please, just call me. I want to see you tonight. This was all absurd. I need to see you.”

But hour after hour, she didn’t call, and she didn’t text.

Admittedly I arrived at work early the next morning but I was still surprised that Ruby wasn’t yet at her desk.

Her friend Pippa was there, though, and when I approached—knowing full well Pippa was aware of our relations.h.i.+p—she blinked away from me in a scowl.

“Pippa?”

She looked up at me again, eyes level and a.s.sessing. “Yeah?”

“Have you heard from Ruby or know when she’s expected in?”

Her expression s.h.i.+fted from annoyed to baffled. “ ‘Expected in’?”

“In to work,” I clarified, a bit unnecessarily I felt.

“Are you daft?”

I stuttered out a few syllables, finally settling on “I don’t believe so?”

She looked at me silently for a couple of beats. “You really don’t know, do you?” she asked, standing up to face me. “Ruby was sacked, you dolt.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry. Sacked?”

“Sacked.”

“She was sacked?”

Pippa laughed humorlessly, and shook her head. “She was made to choose between her interns.h.i.+p and a relations.h.i.+p with you. She meant to tell you yesterday afternoon that she was done here, but I think you had other plans?”

Oh.

Oh.

b.l.o.o.d.y . . . f.u.c.king . . . h.e.l.l.

Panic tore through me, causing my heart to squeeze tightly before it exploded into a rapid swing.

“She . . .” I gasped, looking around as if she might actually be there. As if this might be some sort of game.

Tony made her choose between her job and me.

She chose me.

And as far as she was concerned, I chose Portia.

“I’m f.u.c.ked,” I whispered to myself.

Pippa snorted. “Too right.”

I stormed into Tony’s office, eyes on fire. “You have got to be b.l.o.o.d.y kidding me.”

He startled, standing abruptly. “Niall.”

An intern I hadn’t even noticed stood up from the chair across from him, smoothing her skirt and excusing herself with a quiet, “Pardon.”

We both watched her leave; her beauty and youth triggered another explosion in my chest. I barely waited for her to close the office door before I turned to him, voice low with fury, “Give me a reason I shouldn’t slam your head into that desk right now.”