The Worst Best Man(72)

Frankie swallowed hard.

“It’s just a fling.” She said it to remind Pru and herself.

“That’s no excuse to treat him like Margeaux treats her housekeeper.”

Frankie brought her hands to her face. She was trying to protect herself. But that was no excuse for purposely rejecting him. Had she hurt Aiden? It wasn’t her intention. Though if the tables were turned… “I’m such an asshole.”

“Frosty bitch queen,” Pru corrected with less vehemence.

“He’s done everything for me, and all I’ve done is reject him.”

“Good,” Pru said, pointing her fork at Frankie. “That’s the guilt I want to see. This is not like you to treat someone as less than.”

“How do I fix it?” Frankie asked.

“We start with dinner tonight.”

“You still want to go with me even though I’m Asshole the Frosty Bitch Queen.”

Pru looked down her nose piously, “My dear, some of us can afford to forgive.”

“Oh. Nice. Now who’s the asshole?” Frankie asked.

“I didn’t want you to feel all alone up there on your high horse.”

“I’ll ask him about dinner tonight. But I’ll do it in person,” Frankie decided.

“Good girl. You can meet me at the salon afterward, and we’ll go shopping so you have something amazing to wear to start your apology tour.”

Frankie eyed her sandwich. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to know where he works, would you?”

“You are the worst.”





Chapter Thirty-Eight


Aiden left the conference room feeling vaguely annoyed. He didn’t care for the old adage, ‘If you want something done right, you’d better do it yourself.’ However, with the fresh crop of new hires in human resources and marketing, he felt like it would just be faster to do their jobs for them.

He made it a point to meet with new hires periodically throughout their first year with the company. He found that flattening the layers of the corporation led to more natural communication and a better absorption into the corporate culture.

But the early meetings were always a pain in the ass. No, Kilbourn Holdings didn’t need its own podcast. And no, they were not replacing all of the desk chairs with bean bags and exercise balls and opening a juice bar downstairs.

He nodded at his admin, Oscar, a thin, fashionable dictator with a French accent who ruled Aiden’s calendar with an iron, manicured hand.

“Well, that ran long,” Oscar announced, glaring at his Rolex watch, a gift from Aiden for the man’s tenth anniversary of dealing with Kilbourn drama.

“I don’t suppose you have lunch waiting for me like a good admin,” Aiden shot back. Their relationship was closer to that of Frankie’s brothers than boss and employee.

“Ah, I have something better than that waiting for you,” he said, pointing at Aiden’s closed office door. “I approve, by the way.”

Aiden frowned and let himself into his office. The sight of Frankie sitting behind his desk swiveling in his chair jarred him hard enough that he froze to the spot for a moment. Oscar closed the door behind him with a stage whisper. “Have fun.”

“Hi,” Frankie said, ceasing her swiveling.

“Hi,” he responded, still shocked to find her in his office. She was dressed for work in a neat little suit that made him want to unbutton the jacket and slide his hands inside. She looked nervous. Something he wasn’t used to seeing on her face. Not his confident, energetic Franchesca.

“I hope you don’t mind me dropping by,” she began, rising from the chair.

“No! Not at all! I mean…” He couldn’t seem to regain his composure. He was so damn happy to see her. “I’m really happy to see you,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” she asked beaming at him. “I was in town for lunch with Pru, and I well, we… Do you have dinner plans?”

He did. Business ones. But having Frankie here in his office asking him for anything trumped that.

“I’m yours,” he said. He meant it.

She flushed and crossed tentatively to him, a paper bag in her hand. “I was hoping you’d be free for dinner with Pru and Chip tonight.”

“What’s in the bag?”

“I know you don’t get a lot of time for lunch, so just in case you didn’t get it yet today I brought you a sandwich.”

“Is it a Baranski sandwich?” he asked snatching the bag from her.

She laughed. “Gio really made an impression on you, didn’t he? Remind me to make you a club sometime. You’ll worship me.”

He already did.

His gaze must have told her as much because she looked down at her shoes and then the bag in his hand. “It’s not one of ours, but it’s a deli a few blocks away that’s almost as good as us. Just don’t tell Dad.”

“Your secret is safe,” he promised.

“Why did Oscar let me in?”

“I told security and reception that you had free rein to come and go as you pleased.”

“When did you tell them that?” Frankie asked.

“The day after I got home from Barbados.”

She bit her lip and dipped her head.