Home > The New Boss(12)

The New Boss(12)
Author: Penny Wylder

“You don’t have to do any work if my head is between your legs.”

Brooke laughs sleepily and pulls my mouth down to hers. And after a slow, languorous few minutes she runs her fingers through my hair. “I like your tongue in my mouth, too.”

“Whatever you want. Though I’m already missing you. I’d like to see you outside of my bed, too.”

“You’ll just have to share me.”

I hold her tighter against my body. “What if I don’t want to share you?”

“Feeling a little possessive, Sir?”

Tilting her head back, I kiss her neck. Nibble her collarbone. “More than a little.”

“Mmm.” She tilts her head away so that I have more skin to taste. “Well, Mr. Investor, I’m sure that no one would complain about you coming to rehearsals and watching, if you want. You can steal kisses when we have five-minute breaks.”

“I might take you up on that,” I say. I’m not lying. I am feeling possessive. Plus, watching her act will be no hardship whatsoever. “But I don’t want to do that if it will distract you.”

“On the contrary, I find the idea of you watching me pretty hot.”

“In that case,” I say, “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Her happy smile as she closes her eyes burrows into my chest. That’s the look I always want to see on her face.

Brooke curls deeper into my chest, eyes closing again. She is exhausted with the new schedule and the lack of sleep because we’re both insatiable. I could have her again right now—my body wouldn’t complain—but this…holding her while she sleeps, is satisfaction in an entirely different way.

The next evening, I make my way to the theater. I already cleared my presence with the director and producers. They were ready to bend over backwards for me. Definitely a benefit of throwing my money at something. I have too much of it anyway, and right now this seems like a good use for it. Especially if it makes Brooke’s show that much better.

The theater looks very different without the lights up in the auditorium. Less dramatic. The actors are up on the stage being addressed by the director, but Brooke waves her fingers when she sees me. I wave back and find a seat about half-way back in the audience.

Turning, the director clocks my presence as well. I don’t think Brooke has told them who I am to her, and I haven’t said anything either—I know she wouldn’t want that. It’s important for her to succeed based on her own merit instead of my money.

And she is absolutely brilliant. In the scenes they run, Brooke is refreshing and vibrant. Her southern accent is perfect and rolling, her smile bright, and I have no questions about why she was cast. Amy, her roommate, is great too, in a role that’s nearly the opposite of Brooke’s. Watching her, I experience what it’s like to be completely entranced.

“Okay, take five,” the director says. “When we’re back, we’re going to do some improv stuff.”

Brooke comes down from the stage and jogs over to me. She jumps into my arms and kisses me. That’s that, then. They know. “I didn’t know if you wanted people to know we’re together.”

“I don’t care,” she says, kissing me again. Then she pulls back and grins. “That’s the first time that either of us have said that, by the way. That we’re together.”

“Well, we are.”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip. “We are.”

I wrap my arms around her, enjoying the way her head fits right under my chin. Five minutes goes fast, and she’s heading back to the stage with a smile over her shoulder.

That look is everything.

“Okay. I want to do some work on some scenes that aren’t in the script but have obviously happened. I have a list that I’d like to work through. If we don’t get to all of them, we’ll do some another day. First up is Tood and Tommy, the proposal.”

Brooke brightens up, and she moves to the center of the stage with the only man in the cast. There’s a stirring of jealousy in my gut that I shove down.

It’s a sweet scene. A little awkward, as it should be with where the characters are. But you can also feel the joy and excitement leaking out of them. And when the actor gets down on one knee and proposes, there are tears in Brooke’s eyes.

He stands and sweeps her into his arms before he dips her back and kisses her.

I feel like a knife has been shoved into my gut. Pain that’s never completely healed. I’m not standing in a theater anymore—I’m standing in a doorway, watching who I thought was the love of my life tangled with someone else. It feels like fire.

He’s still kissing Brooke, and I want to kill him. The way she’s melting into him—I know exactly how it feels to have her do that. I can’t look at it. Can’t see it. Watching it is like being electrocuted, and if I keep seeing it, I’m going to put my hands on that man. Through the red haze over my eyes, I know that I need to leave.

I’m on my feet, letting the seat slam up and back. From somewhere I hear gasps, but all I focus on are the doors to the lobby. Beyond those doors is air that I need to breathe. I can’t be here.

The doors snap open under my hands.

“Malcolm.” Her voice is a faint echo. I keep walking. “Malcolm.”

“I need to go.”

“Wait a second. What’s going on?” Brooke looks confused and concerned.

“The director let you come after me?”

She crosses her arms. “The angel investor in the play suddenly and loudly gets up and storms out? Yeah, he wants to know what’s going on.”

That red tint comes back to my vision. “I don’t want to watch you kiss someone else. That’s what’s going on.”

Brooke goes entirely still. “What?”

“You heard me. I didn’t come to watch you make out with another man.”

“That’s not fair,” she says, eyes hard. “You know that it’s not real. Malcolm, I kissed you not even ten minutes before that. It’s not even a scene in the actual play. What’s really going on here?”

I snap. “If I’d known that’s what I would see, then I wouldn’t have come in the first place.”

Anger fills her face. Her entire stance. “You encouraged this. You wanted me to get the part. And now you don’t want me to do what’s necessary for it? This is my dream, and it means everything to me. And one kiss doesn’t mean anything. What’s really going on?”

“Maybe I didn’t understand what it really meant. And I’ve seen relationships dissolve over less.”

“So that means that ours has to? I lo—” she cuts herself off. “I don’t want to give up what we have. And I don’t want to give this up. Why can’t we have both?”

“Because I don’t want to share you.” My voice fills the lobby. I don’t want it to be so harsh and so loud, but I can’t stop what’s coming out of me. “I don’t want to be at home wondering if you’re doing more improv when you’re not on the stage.”

Brooke takes a step back like I’ve hit her. “You really think that I would do that?”

I don’t say anything. I can’t. And I hear her footsteps as she walks away. When I look up, she’s gone. I push open the door to the lobby and charge down the sidewalk towards my car. I can’t stay here. Can’t look at her, at the theater, or think about what it means.

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