Page 17 of Famous Last Words (New York Thunder #1)

CHAPTER 17

FRAN

I haven’t heard from Robbie since our awkward phone call. Not even one arrogant or bossy message. It’s almost like we’ve bypassed the hating each other and gone straight back to forgetting the other existed. And, I’m not saying this isn’t what I was hoping for—anything is better than having to spend every minute of my day dwelling over that almost-kiss—but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a tiny and very confused part of me that didn’t wonder what he might be up to… every single waking moment of my day.

So while I’ve spent my days not thinking about Robbie Mason (yeah, right), I have been forced to deal with the aftermath of the phone call between Robbie and Tadd.

My laptop chimes with a new Teams notification, and I click on the flashing icon, my skin crawling immediately. Speak of the devil.

Tadd: Is it serious?

I throw my head back, stifling a groan. It’s been like this non-stop. I’ve successfully managed to ignore his calls and text messages, but at work, he’s a lot harder to avoid. I’m forced to pass his office every time I come and go, and he’s now resorted to using Teams because he knows I don’t have the access level to block him.

Me: I’ve already told you, it’s none of your business.

Tadd: How long has it been going on?

Me: Again, it has nothing to do with you.

Tadd: You know he’s a drug addict, right?

Me: Do I need to report you to HR… again?

Tadd: Go ahead. They didn’t do anything about it last time.

Ugh, he’s such a smug asshole.

Tadd: You can do so much better than some washed-up hockey player.

I almost laugh out loud. Washed-up? From what I’ve seen on social media, Robbie Mason has single-handedly pushed the New York Thunder to the top of the Eastern conference leaderboard with four straight wins. In their game against Detroit last night, he scored two goals and three assists. The media is having a field day, calling him the comeback kid.Hardly washed-up, but go off, Tadd.

Tadd: It’s not a good look for you, sweetie.

Okay, that’s enough fuckery for one morning.

I shake my head and switch my Teams status to Do Not Disturb because I just don’t have it in me to deal with his shit any more today; it’s been non-stop all week and I’ve officially reached my dickhead tolerance.

As if my computer can hear me, a meeting request suddenly pops up and I click the invitation, my heart jumping into the back of my throat at the sight of Tony Carlton’s name. Fuck .

He’s called a meeting with me in his office in five minutes. Double fuck .

My eyes narrow when I see who else is invited. Tadd Jennings. Are you fucking serious?

Slamming my laptop shut, I push up from my seat so fast, the chair goes rolling back and straight into my cubicle wall with a loud thud that causes a few of the other agents to stand, glancing in my direction to see what the commotion is.

I offer my colleagues a tight-lipped smile, smooth down the front of my dress and, with a resigned sigh, I start the trek to Tony’s office, mentally preparing myself for whatever this bullshit is all about.

By the time I make it upstairs, Tony’s office door is open, and I can see him standing by the wall of glass, looking out over the view, hands tucked into his trouser pockets. I knock, and he turns, his brows rising as he waves me in.

I glance sideways, finding Tadd perched on the sofa by the far wall, long legs spread, arm draped casually over the back of the couch, menacing smirk playing on his lips. Ignoring him, I make my way to one of the chairs across from Tony’s desk, but before I can take a seat, Tony stops me.

“Come sit, Fran,” he says, waving me with him.

He closes his office door before moving to the armchair and taking a seat, and I’m left with no other choice than to sit on the couch next to Tadd. With a muttered curse, I take a seat on the very end, as far from him as I can possibly get, but his hand resting on the back is so close that I feel his fingertip graze my shoulder. I’ll give him one, because I’m hoping for his sake it was an accident. But if he tries it again, I will not hesitate to slap him. I don’t care that our boss is sitting less than a few feet away.

Tony smiles from me to Tadd and back again, crossing one of his legs over the other, and I don’t like this one bit.

“How are you, Fran?” Tony asks, and it’s not lost on me that this is literally the first time he’s ever asked me that question .

My brows dips, but I manage somewhat of a smile. “Fine, thanks.”

“Escrow going smoothly with Allora?”

I nod, lifting my chin a little higher because if there’s one thing that I’m confident of, it’s that Allora will close without issue. “Yes.”

Tony nods, his gaze flitting to Tadd, and I feel like there’s some silent conversation occurring between them that immediately has me on edge. Do they know? Has Tadd done some digging and put two and two together?

“Well, come Monday, you’ll have one on the board,” Tony finally says. “And this is where you can really gain some momentum.” Again, he looks at Tadd.

Beside me, I feel Tadd shift, facing me, and I do all I can to keep a straight face, forcing myself to look at him like I don’t want to break his nose.

“Fran, I secured the listing I was telling you about,” Tadd begins, all smooth and charming, like he hasn’t been harassing me all week about my love life. “Columbus Circle.”

I nod but remain silent because I now know exactly what’s happening here.

Tadd’s gaze flits to Tony before meeting mine again, a self-assured grin claiming his face. “Tony and I have been talking, and we really think it’s in your best interest if you come on the listing with me.”

I open my mouth to object, but before I can speak, he continues.

“I know this is a high-profile listing, very out of your league.” He chuckles condescendingly. “But I’ll help you. We can work together.”

Breathe, Fran .

“This is a tremendous opportunity,” Tony adds.

Before I can get a word in, Tadd continues. “We can work out a fair and reasonable commission split, and you can leverage the use of my team.”

I can’t help but glare at him. Here he is, acting like he’s doing me this selfless favor, when in actuality it’s nothing of the sort. This is his way of getting close to me again, controlling me. I have so many responses on the tip of my tongue, although none are appropriate considering Tony is sitting right there.

“Okay, well I think that settles it,” Tony says, clapping his hands together. “Put together a marketing plan, and we can start straight away.”

Too shocked to move, I remain seated as Tony and Tadd stand, their conversation shifting to a game of golf or some other irrelevant shit. I swallow hard, forcing myself to stand just as Tadd turns to me again, hand held out.

“Welcome aboard, partner.” His smile is almost taunting.

I stare at his hand a moment before reluctantly shaking it, making sure my nails dig into his too-soft-for-a-man hands. He tries to conceal his wince, letting go of me quickly before tucking the hand in his pocket and staring down at me, eyes flaring.

And without saying a word, I spin on my heel and hurry out of the office while the two of them continue chatting about fucking golf.

After a day like today, I am absolutely not in the mood to be dealing with this shit tonight. But since escrow doesn’t close until Monday, and because Carlton Myers’ ridiculous policy states that all escrow funds are to be held for twenty-one days after close, unfortunately I’m at the mercy of working for tips. So, with my tablet in hand, I walk out of the back room and into The Exchange, the bar thrumming with a typical Friday night energy, full of Wall Street d-bags.

I’m stopped the second I step out of the back room, Vera all up in my grill, hip popped, hand on her waist, looking down at me with one brow arched high.

“Hey?” I pose my greeting as more of a question, because what is happening?

“So, you know my boyfriend, Tyler?” she starts.

My brows pinch together because no, I don’t. We haven’t yet met. “I know of him.”

“Well, aside from being the love of my life, and a really awesome DJ who is going to make it big one of these days,” she says this with a flick of her hair, “do you know what else he is?”

I blink at her, totally lost. “Um, a vegan?”

She folds her arms across her chest. “Tyler’s a huge hockey fan.”

Oh, great .

“And not just any hockey fan, but a Thunder fan, like, since birth.”

I purse my lips.

Vera’s eyes go comically wide as she leans in even closer. “When were you planning on telling me that you’re dating?—”

“Shhhh!” I hiss, looking around and noticing just how busy this place is.

Thankfully she lowers her voice as she says, “Robbie Mason!”

I throw my hands up in a shrug. “It’s—it’s new.”

“Well, I would hope so, since you hadn’t told yours truly yet,” she says indignantly, holding a hand against her chest.

I roll my eyes. “We went to high school together. He just moved here, and we crossed paths. And here we are. No big deal.” That’s our story, and I’m sticking to it. Believable, to the point, and not a complete and utter lie. I make a mental note to relay this back to Robbie so we can at least keep our stories straight.

“Okay, but you do realize Tyler is now harassing me to set up a double date so he can meet and possibly become besties with your guy.”

I laugh out loud, unable to stop myself because the thought of Rob bie on a double date is absurd, but I try not to give away my doubt. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Thankfully, before Vera can question me any further, we’re interrupted by Peter, tonight’s bartender, impatiently ringing the bell for service, and we both scurry off to earn our tips.