"Lela, I won't discuss this with you now." Chase pounded his glass down on the bar. Lela had been trying to pick a fight with him ever since they had arrived.
"That's the problem, Chase. You never want to talk about it."
He leaned into her, his face inches from hers. "What's gotten into you? You never used to argue with me."
She at least had the decency to look guilty. Chase was no fool. He knew what was happening. He had hoped they could get through this one last preplanned evening. What he didn't understand was why. He had thought she understood their relationship as well as he did. It was more than a business arrangement and less than a romance. The affair would have progressed long ago if it was meant to be more.
"Maybe I'm tired of waiting."
"For what?"
"For a proposal, a marriage, kids, the works. You don't think I've hung around this long just for your good looks, do you?"
Chase cocked his head and smirked. "No, Lela, I never thought that. I thought you were a bright girl who liked to be seen in the right places with the right people. I've been your ticket to the life you've wanted. In exchange," Chase looked down at Lela's ample cleavage, "I've been somewhat entertained."
The venomous glare focused on him by his date might have paled a lesser man, but Chase was made of sterner stuff. All the stare did to him was give him permission to take the gloves off and tell the woman exactly what he thought of her.
He stepped forward, backing Lela into a middle-aged, balding guy in a gray suit. The guy gave way with an apology, so Chase took another step and another.
"Stop right there, Chase Meadows. I know your tricks. You can't intimidate me." Her eyes said differently.
"Who's trying to intimate you? You're the one who wants to discuss the future in the middle of a freaking charity event. You can't even wait until we get into the car later. So, let's go ahead and discuss it.
"After hearing your male friend over the phone, I had you investigated again."
"Again?"
"You don't think I'd let you so close to trade secrets without a background check, do you? Baby, you've had more men going through your underwear drawer than stars in the sky."
"You've got no right—"
"Think again. You're an attorney. Didn't you read your employment contract? As a company employee, I can have you investigated every day of the week. And after finding out you've been sleeping with West Macklin, how does that not earn you my distrust on every possible level?"
"How did you—?"
Chase's voice rose octave by octave. "What part of I heard you on the phone did you not get?"
Lela's eyes blinked as if she were playing back the phone conversation in her head. "But we didn't say anything—"
"You said I was a bother, an investment that hadn't paid off yet, Lela. You said that to the man you've been seeing behind my back."
"It's not like we've had a commitment."
Chase nodded. "True that. But it doesn't absolve you of who you choose to sleep with. If I find one iota of evidence you've done anything to harm MGM, I will personally see to it you never work in the state of Texas, if not the entire country, again. Do you understand me?"
Tears streamed down Lela's face, and her makeup was failing under the onslaught. "Chase, you better not do anything to hurt my career."
"Oh, you're going to threaten me, Ms. Snow? I made you. You weren't anything but pretty legal aide before I boosted you up. I've got every right to put you right back where you came from. If you don't believe me, ask anyone standing here."
Around them, the bar patrons had created a circle, allowing the couple to have it out without missing any of the action.
"You," Chase pointed to a string bean of a guy in an ill-fitting suit who looked like he belonged there as much as a knife in a gunfight. "What w0uld you do if you were me?"
The man pointed at himself and mouthed 'oh' but never answered.
Chase waved him off. "Nevermind. Show of hands. Who would put down a cheater like this one? Come on. Don't be shy. The woman wants to discuss things in public. We should give her what she wants." God, he hated public displays, but if there was going to be one, he would surely dominate it.
Crowd mentality kicked in, and hands flew up.
"Well, Lela, is that enough for you? Will you leave now, or do you want me to strip you of the rest of your dignity first?"
"That's enough, Meadows." West Macklin worked his way through the crowd and put an arm around Lela. "You don't have to be cruel about it."
"You're right. I don't. It's a choice."
West took Lela off in one direction. Chase headed the opposite way. He wanted another drink, but it could wait until he returned home. Now, he wanted to order his driver to pick him up and hide out until he showed up.
Chase was so done with Lela. Not that he had been in a particularly good mood, but now it was downright bad. He'd likely hit someone if one more person said anything to get on his nerves. He really needed to go to the gym and put in some quality in the boxing ring.
Chase found a quiet employee corridor and texted his driver, then leaned against the wall and waited. He liked his hiding place. It was clean. The walls and floor were both white. The walls appeared freshly painted. The soundproofing was good enough to muffle the party outside. In a way, it was like standing in an isolation chamber until it wasn't.
"Get your stinking hands off me! Who do you think you are?"
The woman's voice interrupting his peace came from down the hall and around the corner.
Chase might have been cruel to Lela, but he considered himself a gentleman. It was only natural for him to follow the sound to see if the woman needed help especially when it was accompanied by the sound of ripping fabric. Someone could be in real trouble.
He came to a dead stop when he rounded the corner and saw the last person he expected to see in the last position he would expect to see her in. Bailey Gallup, the bane of Ren's existence, straddled a hefty man. Her silver-blue skirt was ripped partially from the bodice. It puffed out around her like a storm cloud come to earth.
More surprising than finding her in that position, Chase found the fury that she expelled through clenched fists may have been one of the biggest turn-ons in his life. The thought of Lori Laker, the perfect homemaker, exerting physical violence on anyone was a complete surprise.
He was intrigued by the flash of bare midriff but not nearly as much as the ferocity that Bailey wore as a mask as if she had pent-up anger going back years that she was finally releasing. He briefly wondered what other passions she bottled up.
Chase must have made a noise because Bailey's head whipped in his direction before she pounded the man's head into the floor and took off, loose skirt fabric wadded up before her. He checked on the man left moaning on the floor and decided he wouldn't die, but when he followed Bailey's trail, he lost her. Eventually, he gave up and went to find his car. He wanted to escape to his lair.
The gods had other plans for him, though. No sooner had he buckled up than the door flew open. None other than Ms. Bailey Gallup clambered in beside him and ordered the driver to take off. The car had left the curb before she became aware of his presence.
"Oh," she said, drawing back from him.
"Oh indeed."
"What are you doing here?"
"It's my car."
Bailey assessed the inside of the vehicle and Chase as if she were planning to make an offer to buy them both and found them lacking. "Fine. Then let me out. I'll call for another car."
"Or you could give me your address, and I could drop you off."
Bailey shook her head. "I don't think so."
"Are you sure? Your dress is torn. You have no wrap and it's dark outside. Not the best combination for a safe evening."
Hatred pierced her gaze. "Oh, I'm way past having a safe evening, Mr. Meadows. I'll take my chance on the street. Let me go."
So she did recognize the man who paid her wages.
"If you know who I am, then you should trust me to take you home. Your address isn't a secret from me."
"You assume I want to go home. Maybe I want to see my boyfriend."
"The guy you left in the hallway wasn't your boyfriend."
"You saw that?"
Chase nodded. "Nice technique but not the right image for your brand."
"Neither is date rape."
"True, true. You okay?"
Bailey spread her hands, palms down, before her, displaying the redness and bruising around her knuckles. "Nothing a little ice and time won't cure."