So Maybe I Want A Bad Boy!

Clad

The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed faintly in the background of my office, but all I could focus on was the thick scent of freshly brewed coffee and the rustling of paper. I had barely sat down when Liam tossed a professionally pieced-together document onto my desk. The papers slid across the polished surface of my black glass desk, reflecting the dim lighting from the sleek, modern desk lamp that sat at the corner. The room was sparse, clean lines, minimalistic—nothing like the chaos I was feeling.

"Here are the few racers I personally selected for the season," Liam said, presenting it like a treasure. "Your team needs a boost this year."

I raised an eyebrow, letting the words sink in slowly.

"Don't give me that look. Look, you just started this company, and yes, you might be the hot shit and all, but at the end of the day, you alone won't win us those races. You need better-equipped people, so let's improve the team you have now," he continued, a little too smug for my liking.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "That's the most sense you've made ever since you entered my office." I reluctantly picked up the document.

"What the actual fuck? I'm a freaking doctor, you moron. How can you make such a stupid comment like that? I use my common sense—and more—every single day of my life. More than you, even!" Liam shot back, clearly offended.

Without sparing a glance at the racers he'd chosen, I deadpanned, "And yet who owns a multimillionaire company?" My voice was flat, mocking without the need for effort.

Liam's face flushed, and he looked like he was about to burst. "Fuck off! I helped you build this company, don't paint me as the bad friend."

"If the shoe fits," I replied nonchalantly.

He gritted his teeth. "You are a piece of work. I won't waste my breath on you anymore. Just look at those racers—they're potential game-changers. Tsk, I even helped you find them, this ungrateful prick." He rolled his eyes dramatically before throwing himself onto my Boffi & Bellini couch, not even bothering to take off his sneakers.

"I'm tired," he mumbled.

"Don't think about sleeping there," I warned, but I knew he'd ignore me.

I took a sip of my coffee, letting the warmth spread through me as I glanced at him. "I had a long shift. I came straight here after it. You should appreciate that I always remember you—because I know you'll miss me too much," he added, completely unbothered.

I nearly threw my coffee in his direction. "You mean coming here to sleep like you always do?" I quipped, smirking. "You came yesterday, and the day before, and on Monday—should I keep counting? No matter how much I miss you, it wouldn't be this much."

He smiled smugly. "Your couch is comfortable, the room design is just right, no light comes unnecessarily into the office, and it's the perfect temperature."

"Then hire an office in this building," I shot back, not missing a beat. "That way, I can at least make the money you're abusing from the company—like, for the cleaning services for that couch."

"Would you shut up? I'm trying to sleep," he snapped, but I just laughed quietly and let him drift off. Meanwhile, I couldn't stop thinking.

One thought gnawed at me, a constant undercurrent I couldn't shake: I didn't get Harley's number. Not that I wanted it, of course. But a gentleman would at least make sure she got home safely, wouldn't he? But what was I thinking?

I wasn't that guy anymore.

And Liam was right—I had better things to worry about than those green eyes that haunted me since last night. I hadn't drunk much, but I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck, my muscles aching from all the tossing and turning. We'd finally met after all these years, and now I was questioning everything. Had she moved on? Or was she still carrying that weight, just like I was?

"Are you still going to go through with that plan?" Liam's voice cut through my thoughts.

"What plan?" I muttered, still distracted.

" And I thought you were sleeping," he grumbled, sounding annoyed.

"Just answer the damn question," he pressed, his tone sharpening. "It's hard to fall asleep when you're tapping your pen against the desk. It's an obvious sign you're thinking about Harley."

My heart skipped, and I froze.

"Don't be ridiculous," I snapped, trying to mask the tension that suddenly coiled in my chest.

"It's the truth," Liam said, unrelenting. "That's a habit you developed in high school—spacing out in class while thinking about that one girl who chose to be your friend despite all the rumors surrounding you."

His words dug into me, bringing memories I'd buried deep. I forced myself not to react. "So?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you gonna?" he pressed again, leaning forward, trying to read me.

I didn't answer.

Liam sighed. "I hate it when you get like this, but I'll share my opinion since you won't share yours. Take the business deal with her father, but leave her out of it. I think her losing her job was enough payment for everything, don't you?"

The words hit me harder than expected. I wasn't ready for this conversation. "What? Did your role in this leave you with a guilty conscience?" I asked, trying to mask the bitterness rising inside me.

He groaned, rolling onto his side on the couch. "I'm just saying, what if she hasn't moved on like you assumed? What if this has been eating her up just as much as it has you? Would you still go through all that trouble?"

The weight of his words hit me harder than I wanted to admit. Could she still be holding on, just like I was?

Before I could process it further, the door to my office creaked open, and Max stepped in. "You have a call," he said, his voice crisp and professional. "Mr. Moore is calling to confirm dinner details."

Harley's dad was calling, it was time for phase one.