SWNOVELS Bossalicious Bad Boy: Chapter 19
It’s been days since I discovered those damning files, and my anger grows like wildfire with each passing minute. Alexander’s father was involved in some shady business deals, and though the man is long dead, how could his son not know? The need to confront him boils inside me like a storm waiting to break.
‘Clara, are you sure this is a good idea?’ Ruby asks hesitantly, but I can’t let this go. I’ve come too far and worked too hard for this internship, only to find out that there may be a twisted connection between our families.
‘He needs to know what his father did.’ My voice trembles, barely containing my frustration. ‘I won’t let the past ruin my future.’
With that, I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and march down the hallway toward Alexander’s office. My heart pounds in my ears as I approach the door, and I remind myself that Alexander isn’t his father, that he deserves a chance to explain himself.
‘Alex!’ I burst into the room, unable to keep my emotions in check any longer. His eyes widen at my sudden entrance, but I don’t give him a chance to speak before launching into my tirade. ‘Your father was involved in some terrible things! Did you know? Were you trying to use me to make amends for his sins?’
My voice cracks, but I push on. It’s not fair for me to hold Alexander responsible for his father’s actions, and yet, I can’t help but feel betrayed by the possible deception. Why would he hire me if he knew about the connection?
‘Clara, wait-‘ Alex’s tone is full of surprise, but I’m not willing to hear his excuses just yet.
‘Tell me the truth, Alex,’ I demand, my eyes filling with tears. ‘Did you know about our fathers? Did you know what happened?’
‘Clara, I swear I didn’t know about any of this.’ Alex’s face is a mixture of shock and concern. ‘I hired you because you’re talented and driven, not because of some twisted connection to my father.’
‘Is that so?’ My anger flares up once more, blocking out reason. ‘Or are you just lying to save your own skin?’
‘Clara, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he replies, blinking rapidly, clearly taken aback by my sudden emotional eruption.
‘Your father, Alex! What he did to mine!’ The words burst from me, raw and unfiltered, as I continue to pace, feeling the heat of anger radiating off of me.
‘Wait, what?’ His face reflects genuine shock, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to understand the source of my fury. ‘I honestly have no idea what you mean.’
‘Of course you don’t,’ I scoff, my eyes narrowing as I glare at him. My heart races, and the room seems to close in around us, intensifying the tension that crackles like electricity in the air.
‘Please, Clara, explain it to me,’ he pleads, leaning forward in his chair, his body tense and concerned.
‘Explain? Explain how your father destroyed mine? How my entire life has been built on lies?’ My voice rises, reaching a fever pitch, and I can’t help but think that maybe this confrontation isn’t helping anyone – not even me.
‘Clara, I swear I had no idea,’ he insists, his voice softening, and for a moment, I see genuine pain in his eyes. ‘Please, let’s sit down and talk about this.’
‘Talk?’ I laugh bitterly, my pacing coming to a sudden halt as I face him. ‘What good will talking do now?’
‘Clara, if you don’t tell me what happened, how can I help you? How can we fix this?’ His voice is gentle but firm, and I realize that he’s right: without communication, there’s no hope for understanding or resolution.
‘Fine,’ I grumble, my body still rigid with anger, but I force myself to take a deep breath before I start spilling the ugly truth of our intertwined pasts.
My hands tremble as I clench them into fists at my sides. ‘You know what, Alex?’ I say, my voice shaky but firm. ‘I think you brought me here to atone for your father’s sins.’ The words hang in the air like a black cloud, casting a shadow over both of us.
‘Clara, what are you talking about?’ he asks, his voice laced with confusion and surprise.
‘Your father,’ I seethe, ‘he was responsible for ruining my father, and now you’ve got me here, working under you like some sort of pawn.’ My chest heaves as I struggle to control my emotions. ‘And don’t act like you didn’t know. Those files –’ I jab a finger towards his desk, where I’d found the damning evidence.
‘Files?’ Alexander looks genuinely confused, his eyes darting between me and the desk. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I didn’t even know who your father was.’
‘Of course you’d say that,’ I snap, my inner turmoil manifesting as anger. ‘But it doesn’t change the fact that you hired me to be your intern, knowing full well the connection between our families.’
‘Clara,’ he says, running a hand through his hair, looking more flustered than I’ve ever seen him, ‘I swear, I had no idea. If there’s something in those files that connects our fathers, I wasn’t aware of it. You have to believe me.’
For a moment, I want to. I want to believe that this man, who’s been nothing but kind and supportive during my internship, isn’t just using me to make amends for something he didn’t do. But the evidence is right there on his desk, and my heart can’t forget the pain of betrayal.
‘Whether you knew or not doesn’t change the fact that our families are connected in a way neither of us can escape,’ I say, my voice barely above a whisper as the weight of the situation bears down on me. ‘And it’s hard for me to believe you didn’t know anything about it.’
‘Clara,’ Alexander says, his voice full of sincerity, ‘I promise you, I had no idea. And I’m so sorry for any pain my father may have caused yours.’ His eyes hold mine, pleading for understanding, but all I can think about is the shattered image of my own father and the man who destroyed him.
‘Sorry doesn’t change anything,’ I say, turning away from him, my shoulders slumped in defeat. The truth is, I don’t know what I want or what I need to heal. But I do know one thing: forgiveness isn’t something I can offer right now.
‘Clara, please, listen to me. I’m not lying,’ Alexander says, his voice filled with desperation and vulnerability that I’ve never heard from him before.
My breaths come in shallow gasps, my chest tight with a mix of anger and heartache. I look into his eyes, trying to find some semblance of the boss I thought I knew. ‘How can I believe you? After everything I just found out?’ My voice trembles, betraying the storm of emotions brewing inside me.
‘Because it’s the truth,’ he insists, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘I didn’t know, Clara. I swear.’
‘Then how do you explain these files?’ I ask, my anger flaring as I gesture toward the damning evidence on his desk. ‘A neat little package outlining my father’s downfall, courtesy of your father. And now you want me to believe that you’re innocent in all this?’
‘Clara, I—’ Alexander begins, but I cut him off.
‘No! I can’t trust you,’ I burst out, my words laced with bitterness. ‘You say you didn’t know, but it’s just too convenient, isn’t it? First, your father destroys mine, and then you swoop in and offer me an internship at your company. It’s like some sick joke!’
‘Clara, I would never do that to you,’ Alexander pleads, crossing the room to try and comfort me, but his proximity only fuels my agitation.
‘Stay away from me!’ I shout, taking a step back to put distance between us. ‘I can’t stand to be near you anymore.’
‘Please, Clara. I don’t want to lose your friendship over something I had no part in,’ he says, his voice cracking with emotion. But the hurt is too raw, the betrayal too fresh for me to consider his feelings.
‘Friendship?’ I spit the word out like it’s poison on my tongue. ‘You think we can still be friends after this? After what your family did to mine?’
‘Clara, I’m not my father,’ he tries to reason, but I’ve reached my breaking point.
‘Maybe not,’ I say, my voice cold and hard. ‘But right now, all I see when I look at you is the son of the man who destroyed my family. And that’s not something I can just forget.’
‘Are you quitting?’ Alexander’s question interrupts my seething thoughts, making me take a deep breath and consider the implications.
‘I… I don’t know,’ I admit, feeling the anger recede slightly, replaced by an uncomfortable uncertainty. ‘I need to think about it.’
‘Clara,’ he says, his voice softer now, earnest and genuine. ‘Don’t make any rash decisions based on emotions. I understand that you’re hurt, but we both know that you worked hard to get this internship. Don’t throw it all away over something that happened in the past. Let’s work through this together.’
‘Work through it?’ I scoff, incredulous at his suggestion. The anger still simmers beneath the surface, but his words force me to pause. He’s right; I did work hard for this opportunity. But can I really continue working here, knowing what I know?
‘Look,’ he continues, sensing my hesitation. ‘I won’t pretend to know how you feel right now. But I do care about you, and I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later. Take some time to think it over. I’ll give you space, okay?’
‘Space?’ I repeat, considering the concept. My fists unclench as I weigh my options, feeling the first tendrils of relief at the thought of having time to process everything. ‘Yeah, okay. Space.’
‘Good,’ he nods, his eyes conveying a mix of concern and understanding. ‘Take as much time as you need. If you decide to leave, I won’t hold it against you. But if you choose to stay, we’ll figure out a way to move past this. Together.’
‘Thank you,’ I mutter, hating how vulnerable I sound but grateful for his willingness to let me find my own path forward. As I turn to leave his office, I can’t help but wonder if our friendship will ever be the same, or if the wounds inflicted by our families’ histories are simply too deep to heal.
As I exit Alexander’s office, the door closing behind me with a soft click, my mind races, churning over the revelations and our unresolved tension. The murmur of office chatter fills the air, but it washes over me as if I’m encased in a glass bubble. Isolation seeps through my veins, making each step feel heavier than the last.
‘Clara? Are you okay?’ Ruby, approaches from her desk, her brow furrowed in concern.
‘Uh-huh,’ I nod, forcing a weak smile to curve my lips. ‘Just…a lot on my mind.’
‘I can see that,’ she says gently, reaching out to squeeze my arm reassuringly. ‘If you need to talk, let me know, alright?’
‘Thanks.’ I appreciate her kindness, but the weight of the situation feels too heavy to unload on her, especially when it involves our enigmatic CEO. Instead, I focus on putting one foot in front of the other, the muted thud of my heels on the carpeted floor grounding me in reality.
In the break room, I pour myself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling my nostrils. My hands tremble slightly, and I clasp the warm ceramic mug tightly, hoping to steady them. I glance around the familiar space, taking in the beige walls and worn countertops, wondering how much longer they’ll be a part of my daily routine.
‘Hey, Clara!’ Mark enters the room, his vibrant energy cutting through the fog of my thoughts. ‘You look like you could use some caffeine!’
‘Is it that obvious?’ I attempt a lighthearted tone, but it falls flat.
‘Nothing a little java can’t fix,’ he grins, pouring himself a cup. ‘So, any big plans this weekend?’
‘Nothing yet,’ I reply, trying to focus on the conversation. ‘You?’
‘Maybe some hiking up at Bear Mountain,’ he says, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. ‘You should join us! It’ll be a great way to blow off some steam.’
‘Thanks for the invite, Mark.’ I’m touched by his offer, even though my internal struggle screams for solitude. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Sounds good!’ His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he flashes me another smile before hurrying out of the room.
As I stand there, sipping my coffee, I can’t help but feel torn between the life I’ve built here and the ugly truth that has come to light. Alexander’s words echo in my mind, urging me not to act rashly, to give myself time to process everything. But can I truly compartmentalize my anger and hurt, or will it fester beneath the surface, poisoning our working relationship?
‘Clara,’ I whisper to myself, as if the sound of my own name might provide answers. ‘What are you going to do?’
The question hangs in the air, unanswered, the tension between Alexander and me stretching taut like a rubber band on the verge of snapping. How much longer until it breaks?