Beautiful Bastard

than to see her ridiculously bad penmanship instead of impersonal black-and-white Times New Roman.
    “I told her that this company values her and this family loves her and we wanted her to come back.” Dad paused, his eyes turning on me. “She said that was more reason for her to do this on her own.”

    Chicago turned into an alternate universe, one where Billy Sianis never cursed the Cubs, Oprah never existed, and Chloe Mills no longer worked for Ryan Media. She resigned. She walked away from one of the biggest deals in Ryan Media history. She walked away from me.
    I pulled the Papadakis file from her desk; the contract was drafted by legal while we were in San Diego, and all it needed was a signature. Chloe could have spent the last two months of her master’s perfecting her slide presentation for the scholarship board. Instead, she’d be starting all over somewhere else.
    How could she have handled everything I gave her before but have left over this ? Was it really so important for me to treat her like a peer with a man like Gugliotti that she would sacrifice what we had between us?
    With a groan, I suspected that the reason I had to ask that at all was also the reason Chloe left. I thought we could have our relationship and our careers too, but that was because I had already proven myself. She was the intern. All she ever wanted was reassurance from me that her career wouldn’t suffer from our recklessness, and I ended up being the one to ensure it did.
    I had to admit, I was surprised the office wasn’t on fire with the story of what I’d done, but it seemed only Dad and Henry knew. Chloe had always kept our secret. I wondered if Sara knew everything that had happened, whether she was in touch with Chloe.
    I soon had an answer. A few days after Chicago changed, Sara walked into my office without knocking. “This situation is complete bullshit.”
    I looked up at her and put down the file I held in my hands, staring at her just long enough to make her fidget before I spoke. “I want to remind you that this situation is not your business.”
    “As her friend it is.”
    “As an employee of Ryan Media, and an employee of Henry’s, it isn’t.”
    She gazed at me for a long beat and then nodded. “I know. I would never tell anyone, if that’s what you mean.”
    “I mean that, of course. But I also mean your behavior. I won’t have you barging into my office without knocking.”
    She looked contrite but didn’t shrink under my stare. I was beginning to see why she and Chloe were such close friends: they were both strong willed bordering on reckless, and fiercely loyal. “Understood.”
    “May I ask why you’re here? Did you see her?”
    “Yes.”
    I waited. I didn’t want to press her confidence, but good lord, I did want to shake every detail out of her.
    “She’s been offered a job at Studio Marketing.”
    I let out a tense breath. A decent firm, if small. An up-and-comer with some good junior executives but a few real assholes at the top. “Who is she reporting to?”
    “A guy named Julian.”
    I closed my eyes to hide my reaction. Troy Julian was on our board, an egomaniac with a penchant for barely legal arm candy. Chloe would know this; what was she thinking?
    Think, asshole.
    She was probably also thinking that Julian would have the resources to get her a project that she could get worked up substantially enough to present in three months.
    “What’s her project?”
    Sara walked to my door and closed it to keep the information quiet. “Sanders’ Pet Chow.”
    I stood, slamming my hands on my desk. Fury strangled me, and I closed my eyes to get a grip on my temper before taking it out on my brother’s assistant. “That’s a tiny account.”
    “She’s only a master’s student, Mr. Ryan. Of course it’s a tiny account. Only someone in love with her would let her work on a million-dollar, ten-year marketing contract.” Without looking back at me, she turned and left my office.

    Chloe didn’t answer her cell, her home phone, or any e-mails I sent to the personal account she had on file. She didn’t call, come by, or give any indication that she wanted to talk to me. But when your chest feels like it’s been cracked open with a pickax and you’re unable to sleep, you do things like look up your intern’s apartment address, drive over there on a Saturday at five in the morning, and wait for her to come out.
    And when she didn’t emerge from the building after almost an