Page 49 of Famous Last Words (New York Thunder #1)

CHAPTER 49

FRAN

I am unacceptably late to the office. Late and dressed down in jeans and one of Robbie’s button downs, my hair piled high on my head, mussed after a night of Robbie’s hands grabbing it.

As I walk through the sales floor, I can’t help but feel most eyes on me, hear the whispers as I pass. But I keep my chin held high, a small, secretive smile ghosting my lips as anticipation swirls in my belly.

With my to-go cup of coffee in one hand, my laptop tucked under my arm, and with total disregard, I enter myself into the morning sales meeting fifteen minutes late, forcing Tony to pause mid-presentation, all heads turning to me.

Normally I would never be this audacious. Especially not in front of Tony Carlton. But this morning everything is different, and I offer an unapologetic smile as I slap my laptop and coffee onto the table with a thud before flopping down in the only available chair with a dramatic sigh.

It’s at that very moment I meet Tadd’s eyes from across the table. His gaze is hard and full of warning, like he can’t believe my nerve. My lips curl into a smirk, and I flash him a slow wink, causing him to blanch, his shoulders tensing as he sits up a little straighter, likely wondering what the fuck is going on. Oh, don’t worry. You’ll find out soon enough , I try to tell him through my unwavering gaze.

“Well, Fran, how nice of you to join us,” Tony finally says, his words dripping with sarcasm. “We were just discussing the Columbus Circle penthouse.” He pins me with a hard, almost accusatory gaze. “I understand your… boyfriend was at the broker open.”

My skin crawls at the way he says boyfriend, with complete derision and contempt, and it takes all I have not to throw my searing hot Americano in his overly tan face.

Tony clears his throat as he continues, “I want you to know he’s no longer welcome at any Carlton Myers events in future. We don’t want the company name tarnished.”

My gaze flits to Tadd then to see a smug grin tug at the corners of his lips, but when I meet his grin with a daring smirk of my own, his face pales again.

Tony continues, suddenly all business, “Fran, we’re going to film a video at the penthouse this afternoon, and I need you to?—”

“No,” I say, interrupting whatever it is he was about to say.

Tony’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes widening like he can’t tell if I actually just did that or not.

I offer him a reassuring smile as I continue. “No. I won’t.”

“I-I… I beg your pardon?” he stammers, looking around the room with a scoff, clearly taken aback.

I use the moment to turn my attention to Tony’s executive assistant. “Celeste, I sent you an email a few minutes ago,” I say with an encouraging smile. “Can you please bring it up on the screen, open the attachment, and press play?”

Celeste’s eyes are wide and full of apprehension as she glances from me to Tony and back again, before hesitantly doing as I asked.

Silence falls over the room as the damning footage from The Exchange starts to play on the screen, a few audible gasps echoing throughout. The video plays over and over again on repeat, and I look at Tadd from the corner of my eye, finding his face fraught with both panic and disbelief, his body seemingly frozen.

Tony looks from what’s playing on the screen to Tadd, his lips pressed together in a firm line as he spears me with an incredulous look as if I'm the bad guy in this messed up equation.

I stand from my chair, collecting my things and biting back my smug smile. “Frankly, Tony, I refuse to work not only with that man—” I indicate Tadd, still sitting shocked, unmoving. “But I refuse to work for a company that not only supports but encourages and rewards behavior of men exactly like him .”

At that, Tadd stands with such ferocity, his chair falls back with a clutter. He slams his hands against the shiny boardroom table, seething as his gaze settles on me.

I blink, waiting for whatever it is he feels he needs to say.

“You would be nothing without me,” he splutters, his words steely and laced with venom. “I fucking made you. And now what? You run off to be some… some hockey whore ?”

It’s more than a little difficult, trust me, but I manage to avoid responding, instead looking at Tony with an I-told-you-so smile. “I quit.”

And Tony could easily concede, be the bigger man, and let me go, but of course he doesn’t; he and Tadd really are kindred spirits.

“And where do you think you’re going to go?” Tony sneers, smirk patronizing. “I’ll make sure you never work in another agency in this city. You know that right?”

I refrain from rolling my eyes because the narcissism in the room is stifling. Instead, with a casual smile, like I haven’t just been called a whore and threatened by two grown-ass men, I’m professional in my response. “Actually, I’m going to be heading up a real estate division at one of the top sports man agement companies on the east coast.”

Tony mutters something unintelligible, folding his arms across his chest.

Tadd is fuming, his face reddening by the second. I’d be worried he might go into cardiac arrest if I actually gave a shit about him.

With one last smile, I start to leave, which is when there's a gentle knock on the door, causing me to pause. It opens, revealing the Carlton Myers’ receptionist, Giselle, her face stark. “I’m sorry for the interruption, Mr. Carlton. But the police are here looking for…” She trails off, her wide gaze settling on Tadd.

I press my lips together in an attempt to quell the victorious smile that tries to claim my entire face, and with a wave in Tony’s direction, I quickly slip out of the room.

Sure, I’d love to see Tadd being handcuffed and carted off with the boys in blue, but honestly, I no longer care. My job here is officially done.

It’s little disheartening that after the years I spent devoting my life to Carlton Myers, all I have to show for it is one small Iron Mountain box full of nothing more than my framed real estate license, a coffee mug, and a sad looking plant in need of some serious TLC. But as I walk out of the revolving glass doors and into the steady flow of foot traffic on Sixth Avenue, I feel an overwhelming sense of relief, like the weight of the whole world has just been lifted off my shoulders.

I’m free. I’m fucking free. It’s taking all I have not to twirl and break out into song and dance.

When I meet a pair of familiar brown eyes partially hidden by the peak of a ballcap staring at me from across the busy sidewalk, my shoulders sag with a relieved sigh as I weave my way through the mid-morning throng, drawn to him like a mo th to a flame.

Robbie pushes off the post he’d been leaning against, that crooked smirk doing all sorts of unexplainable things to my insides as he approaches me, closing the distance between us.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, taking the box from me, his eyes warm and full of something that hits me right in the heart.

I smile, lifting up and pressing my lips against his. “Thank you.”

Moving next to me, Robbie slings an arm lazily around my shoulders. “Is my girlfriend ready to get the hell out of here?”

I beam, feeling my cheeks flush, my heart skipping at his use of the word girlfriend. “I’m so ready.”

He sniffs a quiet laugh, leaning in close. “Keep looking at me like that, Keller,” he whispers, his voice laced with delicious threat. “I dare you.”

I bite back my smile, sighing contentedly and leaning my head against his shoulder as we head down Sixth Avenue, arm in arm. We don’t get far before we’re stopped abruptly by a commotion coming from behind us.

“Well, well, well,” Robbie says, glancing over his shoulder. “Will you look at that.”

I turn in time to see the police escorting Tadd out of the Carlton Myers building and straight into a waiting car.

“Don’t you know who my father is?” he hollers. “Someone is going to pay for this!”

Robbie laughs, looking down at me, his gaze flashing with mischief. “Is it weird that my dick just got semi-hard?”

I gawk up at him, playfully smacking his chest, and he flashes me a knowing wink, his arm coming around me again as we continue walking.