What They Don't Know (Won't Hurt Them Trilogy #1) (5 page)

“Oh, my God! Mr.
Wilke!”

“What? You were a bit
bitchy; and when I mentioned I might be interested, he threatened
me.”

“He threatened you?”

“Hell yeah, he did,
with a beer bottle and a quarter. He was a bit drunk, so I only half
believed him,” he says matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders.

I’m confused and red
in the face. My boss sits across from me with a confident grin as if
he’s just won the man of the year award. His smile says something,
like he knows more than he’s telling. It’s actually a turn on,
his confidence. He definitely has a lot to be confident about.

I shake my head.
“You’re wrong about Bryant.”

“Am I?” he replied.

“Yes, you are. He’s
too focused on his business to want anything but success in his life
right now. He needs no distractions.”

“It’s probably just
what he needs, Bria; someone to stand with him during this stressful
shit. Look at me and the missus, she holds all the cards, and until
she’s ready to fold, she’s right here.”

“But you guys—”

“Don’t fuck? Excuse
me, aren’t intimate? We are; we both just have certain needs.”

“I don’t even want
to know.”

“Oh, I think you do,
you’re afraid of the response.”

“No, no. I get it.”

“You’re smart. I’m
sure you have some idea. With the way you arrange our meetings, you
have an imagination.” He winks.

“Which reminds, Mr.
Wilke, I can’t accept the bonus I just received. I feel—”

“You can, and you
will,” he says, as he interrupts my confession.

“I can’t, Mr.
Wilke; it just feels like—”

“Like what, Bria?”
He side-eyes me.

I fidget with my nails
because now I’m uncomfortable.

“Come on, Bria, like
what? What does it feel like?”

“Like, hush money.”
I wince.

He lets out a throaty
laugh. “It is, Bria.” My eyes go big as doorknobs.

“Boss, why? You know
I’m not going to disclose any information about you.”

“Not my idea, it’s
the missus.”

“Still, why? Did you
defend me to her?”

“Don’t have to,
Bria. She knows you’re loyal. It’s just where she comes from;
it’s better to look out for those who hold certain cards. Her
family is just too well known.”

“I mean I get it, but
where I’m from loyalty trumps all. My dad always taught me never to
accept monetary gifts. It’s a sign of disrespect. It’s like
accepting something that’s not yours to begin with.”

“It must be that
Italian blood, running through your veins?”

“Yeah and part Native
American.”

“Ahh, that explains
the disrespect. Well, I can take the check back, but my wife is
full
Greek
. She’ll have a coronary, and I’ll be back in the
doghouse you just got me out of. You don’t want her mad at either
of us, do you?”

“No.” I drop my
shoulders in defeat.

“Besides, who’ll
know? I’m not talking.”

“Me either.” I
shake my head.

“Bria?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever
thought about going into business for yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever
thought of running your own small business?”

“Well, no. Are you
firing me?”

“No, Bria, nothing
like that. Should I be?”

“No,” I sternly
say.

He laughs and says,
“Silly girl, I was thinking about maybe investing in a small
entertainment business. Ya know, what you do for the missus and me.
You’ll have full control, just a little something on the side,
nothing major at first. Schedule appointments with clients. Get
accustomed to what they like. Book, and set up suites for their
fantasies. You have the financial background. You can submit a quote
to me, start with a budget, and we’ll go from there. Oh, you can
add in amenities also.”

“Okay, where would
the clientele come from?”

“Well, that’s where
the missus and I will come in; and of course, we’ll provide the
startup cost. We will provide a few clients; and hopefully, word of
mouth will help you grow your own clientele.”

I gesture a thinking
motion with my eyes.

“What are your
thoughts, Bria?”

“Well, it sounds
exciting, but what if I can’t create what they ask for?”

“I’m sure you’ll
find a compromising median.”

“Would my clientele
be men or women?”

“Both, unless you
have a preference.”

“No preference. I
just want to know who I’m dealing with.”

“Sooo, are you game?”

“Do I have to give
you a decision now? Can I give you an answer on Monday?”

“Today is?”

“Thursday, boss,
Thursday.”

“Yes, okay. Do you
need an entire weekend?”

“Well, I’d like to
put together a budget portfolio. A few stipulations of my own. You
know?”

“Ah, your
compensation package?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, something like
that.”

“Don’t worry, Bria,
you’ll be well compensated.”

“Boss, you know
that’s not my concern.”

“Well, what is it?”

“How will you be
compensated?”

“Well, present me
your package; and I’ll fit the Wilke Industries Finance corporate
touch to it.”

“Whoa.” I shake my
head in disbelief. “You changed the name of the company?”

“Yes, yes, I did,
sunshine. It will be official; what’s today?”

“Thursday, boss.
Thursday.”

“Monday it will
officially be W.I.F. Wilke Industries Finance.”

“SHUT UP!”

“Like yeah, shut up,”
he mimics me. We both let out a hysterical laugh.

“Congratulations, Mr.
Wilke; you really have been working hard. You deserve this; how is
Charlotte taking it?”

“Better than I
thought; she said it was time. I couldn’t agree more. My roots have
outgrown the Wilke and Foster brand. It’s a good, no, it’s a
great change.”

“Oh, I’m so happy
for you, Mr. Wilke.” I get up to hug my boss because I am happy for
him; he gives me a tight squeeze.

“Great things are
happening, Bria, and I’m taking you to the top with us. Are you
ready?” he says excitedly.

“I’m ready!”

* * *

I’m all smiles
sitting in my office. My boss is probably the best boss I've had thus
far. I've had quite a few in college, but he has taken a very strong
lead. I check my cell and see I have two missed calls and messages.
One’s from Bryant, and I'm nervous about opening it.

I stare at the screen
and I don't know if I want to talk to Bryant. Instead, I dial my
voicemail to check the message. It's probably just Bryant before or
after the text. It's from a number I don't recognize. I press the
button to listen to the message.

“Huhhhhh?” I drop
my phone and pick it up right away. I continue to listen. How in the
hell did he get my number? Mr. Pool King. I press the button to
listen again
.

“
Good
afternoon, Ms. Watts. This is Mr. King, and it has been brought to my
attention that you were unhappy with our health club services, which
resulted in you cancelling your contract. If you would like to come
to the health club to discuss other services and scheduling, I'm sure
I can make it worth your while. I will be available today at six p.m.
and Friday at seven thirty. You can ask for me at the front desk and
one of the associates will escort you to my office.”

Holy Sugar Honey Ice
Tea! I will not! I end the voice mail replay. I look at the clock,
and it's already 5:38 p.m. I'm leaving at six o’clock and going
home to enjoy my take-out and a nice bottle of Sweet Red. Sorry, Mr.
King, not happening. Ever.

Sorry, Bry, I chuckle
to myself, not tonight.

One more day, and I can
relax the weekend away. I pull up to my two-bedroom home, thankful
this day is winding down. I grab the take-out I ordered for dinner,
along with the bottle of wine I picked up next door to the
Mediterranean restaurant. This is probably the only food I can eat
from a container; all others I have to plate. Food just tastes better
on a plate. So what, I'm a bit picky and a bit OCD-ish.

When I walk through the
door, I hear movement. Before I completely enter my foyer, I pull my
pepper spray from my pocket. I drop my bags to the floor, and post up
against the wall. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I'm scared
out of my body. I try to make it back out of the door, without
looking back when I feel hands grab me, and I scream. “HOLY HELL!
BRYANT! WHAT THE HELL!”

“Sorry, Bree. You
didn't answer me, so I decided to stop by.” He shrugs. “Sorry.”

“You could have
called or texted me that you would be here.”

“Well I thought you
would have stayed somewhere else or something. I don't know, Bree.
Things have been weird with us lately.”

“Bry, we always talk
no matter what.”

“Yeah, so why didn't
you return my call?”

I shrug. “Busy?”

“Busy, Bree?”

“Yeah, with Mr.
Wilke’s extra projects, his merger. You know… busy.” I want to
congratulate Bryant, but I'll let him tell me about his news before I
do.

“Mr. Wilke’s
projects?”

“Yeah,” I respond.
I don't want Bryant to know, all I do for Mr. Wilke. He pays too
well, to let any of his business get into the mainstream media.

“Oh,” he simply
says. I'm still trying to catch my breath, when he takes the pepper
spray out of my hand, and looks at it suspiciously.

He shakes his head.
“You were going to mace me?”

“It’s pepper
spray,” I say.

“Same difference,”
he responds, as he grabs my bags from the floor.

“What's for dinner?”

“Mediterranean
chicken and vegetables.”

“Ugh, I thought it
might be Thai.”

“You might like it,
Bry.”

“Yeah, I might like
ice baths, but I'm not trying it.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind, Bria;
you go get settled. We have things to talk about.”

“I'll listen.”

“No, you will also
talk.”

“Whatever.” I
attempt to pass him, while I reach for my food. He pulls the bag
away, and grabs my chin.

“You
WILL
talk to me, Bria.” Suddenly, I have an annoying sense of anger for
Bryant right now. I snatch my face away, and grab at my bags again.

He moves them away once
more. “I'll plate your food; go, get comfortable.”

I look at Bryant; he
gestures for me to go. I shake my head, as I walk away. My nerves are
shot to shit, and so is my bladder. I get to the bathroom just in
time. My thoughts are on food and getting rid of Bryant.

“Dammit,” I say in
a whisper. I don't want to have this conversation with him now; shit,
maybe never. How can I get out of this? I'll tell him I don't feel
well. No, then he'll offer to take care of me. He’ll never leave.
Shit! I'd pick the one good guy
to have as a best friend.

My bathroom is
connected to my bedroom, so I go into the bedroom.
Wait...
why am I trying to be so quiet? This is MY house.
I am way
too distracted. I need to recuperate and focus. I get in the shower.
I wash my hair to kill a little time, and then change into my
comfortable weekend clothes. Maybe Bryant will forget about our talk
by the time I'm out.

* * *

When I get to my
sitting room, Bryant is on his laptop. I look around because I'm
starving. He points to the counter where my food warmer is. I waste
no time eating. I stand there with my plate in hand. “Have some?”
I say, filling my mouth.

He scrunches his nose.
“No, thank you. I ordered.”

“Let me guess, Thai?”

“No, Vietnamese. Yes,
Thai,” he scoffs.

“Ha-ha, ass.”

“Yeah, well, would
you come and sit please?”

“Sure can,” I say,
as I make my way to the couch.

“Never thought I'd
have to ask you to sit down in your own house, and you don't think
things are weird.”

“I never said they
weren't. I said we are still able to talk.”

“Right, so why
haven't we?”

“We've both been
busy, Bryant.”

“Okay, still text or
something.”

“Well, Bry, you went
all Gerard Butler on me.”

He laughs. “I went
all Gerard Butler on you? You went all Pretty Woman on me,” he says
with a smirk. I drop my fork and look at him.

“What?” It’s like
he isn’t aware of what he said.

“I'm not a hooker or
prostitute; nor am I a whore,” I say sternly.

“Didn't mean it in
that way, Bria. Look, I don't want to argue with you. It's been
hell
,
not talking to you this week. I'm not sure if I can take not talking
to you any longer.” He leans over and nudges me.

“It's been horrible
for me too,” I say lightly.

“I couldn't tell. You
didn't annoyingly text, or call me fifty times a day to see how I was
doing.”

“I knew how busy
you'd be. We did just go over your new business plan. I understand
those things take time.”

“They do, if they’re
worth it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm not sure I want
to do this; my social life will suffer. I'm not sure if I'm ready to
lose any more people in my life.”

“Bryant, Cass is a
bitch. A money hungry, shopping addict bitch… turned whore,” I
say, as calmly as I can. I’ve never liked Cassie. She didn’t
deserve my best friend. Her selfish ways destroyed their
relationship. He laughs a belly laugh, and I just stare at him. God,
he's freaking beautiful. I just want to jump him.

He looks at me, wiping
his eyes from laughter tears. “You're mean.”

“No, I'm telling the
truth.” My bell buzzes.

“Great, real food's
here.” He jumps to his feet.