Page 40 of Pucking My Off-Limits Billionaire Boss
Anger and disbelief surge through me, but I force myself to stay calm. “You’re behind the problems at the site? Why? What do you hope to gain from this?”
Andrew stands, his chair scraping back loudly. “I want you to realize that you need me, Lucy. That you’re better off with me than struggling on your own or playing house with Jake.”
I stand as well, my resolve hardening. “I don’t need you, Andrew. And I certainly don’t want you. You can try to sabotage the project, but you won’t break me. I’ll fight you every step of the way.”
He gives me a cold, calculating look. “We’ll see about that, Lucy. Just remember, I’m not someone you want as an enemy.” With those final words, Andrew turns and walks away, leaving a lingering sense of menace in the air—not to mention an unpaid check.
Left alone in the wake of Andrew's departure, the echoes of his threats still hanging in the air, I find myself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, anger, and an unyielding determination swirl inside me, a turbulent storm that refuses to settle.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. Andrew’s words, his threats, they were meant to unnerve me, to push me back into a corner where he could control me. But I'm not the same person I used to be. I've grown, changed, fought for every inch of independence I've gained. And I'm not about to let Andrew, or anyone else, take that away from me. The fake relationship with Jake, once a shield, now feels like an extra weight, one that I need to reassess.
22
Jake
A FEW DAYS LATER
IarriveattheCedarwood Tavern and Mocha Memoirs construction site as the sun peeks over the horizon. The air is crisp, a typical Cedarwood morning, but the atmosphere is anything but typical. We're dealing with a new set of challenges, and deep down, we both know Andrew is orchestrating these roadblocks.
Lucy's already here, pacing with her phone in hand. She glances up at me, her frustration clear. "More delays, Jake. Our main lumber supplier just backed out."
I lean against a half-built counter, feeling the weight of each new issue. "Andrew's handiwork," I say flatly, watching her reaction.
Lucy nods, her hands clenching and unclenching as she paces back and forth.
"Hey, how did your talk with Andrew go? Are you okay?" I ask, my concern for her evident in my tone.
She looks up, her green eyes meeting mine. There's a flash of vulnerability before she quickly masks it with a forced smile. "It was as expected. Tense. But I'm fine, Jake. Really." Her voice doesn't quite convince me, but I decide not to press further.
Lucy stops pacing, her jaw setting in determination. "He's trying to break us, but we won't let him." Her resolve is admirable, and it strikes a chord in me. She's come a long way from the girl I once knew.
"We need to get creative, find new suppliers, maybe even local ones," I suggest, already brainstorming alternatives.
She nods, her eyes scanning the room. "Local could work. Let's get the team together, figure this out."
We spend the morning rallying our crew and reaching out to local businesses. It's a scramble, but the sense of community is palpable. Cedarwood has a way of coming together when it counts.
At one point, as we confer over a revised plan, Lucy catches me staring. She raises an eyebrow. "What's on your mind?"
"Just thinking," I reply, "about how well we handle these curveballs. We make a good team."
Her smile is brief but genuine. "We do. And we're not going to let Andrew or anyone else stop us."
The Cedarwood Tavern and Mocha Memoirs project has hit a snag, but Lucy and I aren't the type to back down. We're a team now, and it's time to put up a fight.
In the heart of Cedarwood, we start our campaign. We meet with local business owners, community leaders, anyone who might lend us a hand or a resource. I'm struck by how naturally Lucy fits into these roles, her charm and determination opening doors I thought were firmly shut.
"Let's try the old hardware store down on Main," Lucy suggests, a new plan already forming in her eyes. "They've been around forever, maybe they can help with some of our supply issues."
We make our way down the streets, the early autumn air crisp and filled with the scent of changing leaves. The town is small, but the sense of community is huge. As we talk to people, I can see the respect they have for Lucy, and it makes me see her in a new light.
In a quiet café, we lay out our blueprints, our heads together, talking softly. There's an easy rhythm to our work now, a flow that feels natural and right. "If we can reroute the plumbing like this," I point out, tracing a line on the paper, "we might save on some of the costs."
Lucy nods, her eyes following my hand. "Good idea. And if we adjust the layout here, it could work even better."
Our conversations ebb and flow, a mix of professional planning and personal banter. There's laughter, too—the kind that comes from shared struggles and the satisfaction of finding a way through them.
"We're really doing this, aren't we?" Lucy says at one point, a hint of wonder in her voice.
