Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(92)

“And we need to play up the refined sexiness of it. We need something young and fresh to really capture his attention and attract the millennial buyers.”

“I thought young and fresh violated the tried-and-true luxury of the brand,” Rake said dryly, repeating the sentiment Dominic had pounded into the team.

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “Onism will always be about refinement and class,” he said. “And I’ll make sure every campaign reflects that, but the point is to also grow brand awareness in our new market. Or have you forgotten?”

“Was just clarifying the approach,” Rake said, staring at him with a level of disinterest that seemed to pique Dominic’s annoyance.

Dominic leaned back in his chair, giving Rake a look of cool appraisal. “Is there something you’d like to say, Rake? Or would you prefer to keep staring daggers at me?”

Rake paused, torn between two extremes. Part of him wanted to grab Dominic by the throat and make him take back every foul word he’d said about Lizzie. The other part of him wanted to retreat to the safety of placating his boss, bending over backward and putting the company first, maintaining his job and the security it offered.

He tried to go for a happy medium.

“Actually, there is,” Rake said, mimicking Dominic’s reclined posture. “I have an issue with the way you spoke about Lizzie during our call this weekend.”

Dominic’s brows rose in surprise, then he rolled his eyes. “You must be joking. I can’t waste any more time on this. What you do in your personal life is your business, just don’t bring that messy thing around to client events and we’ll be fine.”

Rake jolted up, slamming his palms on Dominic’s desk and leaning forward. “Shut up,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Excuse me?” Dominic said, slowly standing, the lines of his face taut and trembling at Rake’s insubordination.

“You heard me,” Rake said, a hot type of fury singeing every muscle, his voice rising. “You can’t speak about her with that kind of disrespect. I won’t tolerate it for another fucking moment.”

“I should fire you on the spot for speaking to me like that,” Dominic said, sizing Rake up. “I don’t know what the bloody hell’s gotten into you, but you better get to your office and pull yourself together before you say something else you’ll regret.”

“The only thing I regret is not saying this sooner. I’m not going to bend over backwards day after day at this company for you to speak about someone I love with such contempt. I’m done putting this place first. I quit.”

Dominic’s eyes widened, and Rake felt similarly surprised that those words had left his mouth.

“You can’t quit,” Dominic spit back. “Our meeting is tonight.”

“You can take your meeting and your luxury and your derogatory opinions about my partner and shove them up your arse.”

Rake found a deep satisfaction in the way Dominic silently gaped at him like a dying fish.

Rake pushed off the desk and, after grabbing a few personal items from his own office, tore out of the building with a triumphant stride.

But, after walking a block, post-outburst clarity sent Rake into a total fucking panic that almost had him crawling back and asking for his job.

Holy hell, what was he thinking?

He just quit? With a baby on the way?

Was he an absolute idiot?

He squeezed his eyes shut, fisting his hands in his hair. As reckless as the move had been, he couldn’t regret what he’d done.

He’d lost himself in that job for years, using it as the perfect excuse to avoid actually living.

It was like he’d been looking at life through a peephole, and then Lizzie came into his world and bashed the door down, dragging him out into the sun. He’d been a fool to try to rebuild that wall.

Rake rang Lizzie as he kept walking, but the call went to voicemail. He had to find her. He had to apologize. Beg for forgiveness.

Rake was so lost in his thoughts as he opened the door to their apartment, it took him a second to register that someone was already inside, and the shock made him jump out of his skin.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Indira yelled, clutching her chest, presumably just as surprised to see Rake.

“I live here! What are you doing here?” Rake said, trying to get his heartbeat under control.

Indira gave him a sheepish look. “Lizzie gave me her key and asked me to get her stuff.”

Rake blinked, the words circling around his gut in cold, sharp jabs.

“No,” he said at last, shrugging out of his suit jacket and dropping his keys on the counter.

“No?” Indira said, sending him a piercing glance.

“No. Lizzie isn’t moving out. She’s coming home.”

“Is that right?” Indira said, folding her arms across her chest.

Rake held her gaze for

One,

Two,

Three.

“If she wants to,” Rake said at last, hanging his head in defeat.

“Good boy,” Indira said, relaxing her arms. “But to me, it doesn’t seem like she wants to.”

“Listen,” Rake said, desperation in his voice. “I messed up. Horribly. But I want to make it up to her. I’ll do anything.”

“Why don’t you start by telling your boss to suck a fat one?”