Giving Up the Boss Page 2

  Dr. Warren cleared his throat.

  “He will remember, right?” she demanded, opening her eyes.

  “Amnesia is a hard thing to predict. There is still just too much we don’t know about the brain. In all likelihood, yes, he will remember who he is eventually, but I can’t make any absolute promises at this stage in his treatment.”

  “But what sort of timeline are we looking at?”

  “It’s hard to say, and I can’t get into the specifics of his case since you’re not family.”

  She jerked back, stung.

  You have no right to be upset. You have no legal claim here. He’s nothing to you. Not anymore. You don’t even work for him.

  “There must be something you can tell me. I need to know he’ll be okay.”

  “We’re doing everything in our power to take care of Mr. Sinclair, I assure you. But I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you until a family member arrives.”

  “Talk about making an entrance.”

  They both turned to see tall, dark-haired man striding toward them.

  “Marc,” Lori greeted.

  Jackson’s younger brother barely spared her a glance. “I was about to get on a plane to Melbourne when my phone rang. Imagine my surprise to learn my only family is in the hospital, apparently put there by his right-hand woman.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “Finally get tired of jumping to his demands?” Marc asked, turning to her, his gaze so similar to his brother’s.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “Sure. Employees run down CEOs all the time.”

  “I swear to God.”

  “Honestly, with the hours he makes you work, I’m surprised you didn’t do this sooner.”

  She ground her teeth. “There’s only so many ways I can say ‘accident.’”

  “I’d settle for a single convincing one.”

  “This isn’t helpful,” the doctor interrupted. “Our main concern is the patient. Mr. Sinclair has minor injuries apart from his head trauma. He has some scrapes, a fractured wrist, and a head wound that bled profusely, but there should be no lasting physical damage. That’s the good news. If you’d like to follow me to a private room, I can debrief you on his condition further.”

  Marc waved his hand. “Lori might have had a brief fit of homicidal rage—”

  “I did not!”

  “But she’s the closest thing he has to a support system outside of myself. You can tell us together.”

  “All right. The best outcome here is that his amnesia is a temporary state brought on by the blow to the head he suffered and the trauma. As his body recovers, he may get his memories back. I’ve seen patients have this sort of memory haze for only a few hours.”

  “So, he could be back to normal very soon,” Marc said.

  “He could.”

  “Or?” Lori asked. “What’s the other option?”

  “Or, it could take considerably longer. Some patients take weeks, if not months, to heal. In rare cases, some memory damage is permanent.”

  Her heart plummeted. She may have maimed the love of her life forever? Jackson’s brain was the reason he was able to rise so high. He ruled the family empire with an iron fist, never forgetting so much as a decimal point, and now she’d wiped out his entire life?

  Marc stared at his brother. His expression could have been carved from granite. “A few weeks,” he murmured. “How long will he need to stay in the hospital?”

  Dr. Warren sighed. “Physically, there’s not much else I can do for him. I’d like to keep him overnight for observation, but we can have him in his own bed tomorrow.”

  “Doctor, we’re going to need that private room now,” Marc said, his voice grim.

  She glanced at him in surprise. “We do?”

  “Of course. Right this way.”

  Bewildered, Lori followed the two men down the hall and into a small room with a few chairs and a table.

  “Have the nurse page me if you have any other questions,” Dr. Warren said before showing himself out and closing the door behind him.

  Marc waited until they heard the click of the door before rounding on her. “We have a problem.”

  “What was your first clue?”

  “I don’t just mean Jackson’s accident. You could not have run him over at a worse time.”

  She groaned, collapsing into one of the chairs at the table. “I would never have hurt him on purpose.”

  Marc’s expression was anything but sympathetic. “What I’m going to tell you can’t leave this room, got it?”

  She held up a hand. “Wait. I quit this morning. I’m not a Sinclair employee, and you shouldn’t tell me any sort of confidential information.”

  There was no masking the surprise that flashed across his face. “What the hell happened to you two today?”

  “It’s a long story,” she said before thinking twice. “Actually, no. It should be a long story, but in reality, I quit and then ran him down. That’s about the gist.” She dropped her head into her hands. “It’s all my fault.”

  “So, help me fix it. As of this moment you are officially un-quit.”

  She glanced at him. “That’s not a word.”

  “Don’t care. More is at stake here than your guilt, and I need you to step up. Until my brother is back to normal, you need to be exactly what you’ve always been. His most trusted assistant. The person always by his side. No one will question why you’re suddenly going to be spending so much time with him. You’re perfect.”

  “Perfect for what?”

  “To help me cover this up.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Have you lost your mind? Your brother doesn’t even remember his own name and you want him to what, run a billion-dollar empire?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not happening.”

  “If it doesn’t, we’ll lose the company.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  He ran a hand down his face. “HynCor is snapping at our heels. The market isn’t big enough for the two of us, and they’re making moves to take on a merger that would squeeze us out. If this deal goes through, the company my family has spent generations building will be over.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “Our shareholders can’t find any of this out. If they get a whiff they’re backing a sinking ship, they could change course and jump to our competitors. Our stock would tank, and we’d all be out on the street.”

  “Okay, but why can’t you step in to run the company while Jackson recovers somewhere far away from reporters?”

  “Because I need to be in Australia tomorrow securing an alliance that will allow us to survive the next few months. This deal is our life raft, and if I’m not on the other side of the world to navigate these talks, it won’t matter what Jackson remembers. The company will be gone.”

  “But I quit,” she whispered. “I wanted to get away from the Sinclairs, not more deeply entwined.”

  For the first time, Marc’s expression softened. “I don’t know what came to a head today, but I do know Jackson needs you. That’s been true since the day you first walked into his life. Can you really leave him like this?”

  No, and we both know it.

  Independence could wait. She’d royally screwed up Jackson’s life, and if she could do anything to put it back together, she needed to try.

  “So, what’s the grand plan?” she asked wearily.

  “We’ll say he fractured his wrist playing racquetball to explain the wrappings and the hospital stay. I’ll get on a plane tonight and tomorrow when he’s released, you’ll take him home.”

  “Which home?”

  “Yours for now. Less eyes.”

  “Don’t you think people might question why the man who has never so much as visited my apartment now lives with me?”

  “Can you say you’re having an affair?”

  She shot him a murderous look.

  “Right, sorry. No one would buy that.”

  Knife in th
e heart. Twisting.

  “Thanks,” she said, her voice deadpan.

  He waved a hand. “You know what I mean. My brother is impossible at the best of times. You’d never want to date him.”

  Wouldn’t I?

  “But you’re right. Let’s scratch your place. Take him to his house and stay with him there. You can say you two are working on some top-secret business, and he needs you close at hand at all times.”

  “I get him home and then what? I coach him through his days?”

  “Exactly. Come on, Cyrano. Step up and take one for the team.”

  “Your family is not my team.”

  “It is for the next few weeks. You know the business and his schedule. Help him pretend to be himself until I can get this deal locked in. After that we can reevaluate.”

  “And if it’s not a few weeks? What if his memory never comes back like Dr. Warren said?”

  He dragged a hand through his hair in a way that was so similar to Jackson it made her heart clench. “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we just need to make sure thousands of people don’t lose their jobs.”

  “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”

  “I need your head in the game.”

  She sighed. “Fine. I’m in. Not like I can really say no, since I got you into this mess.”

  “Good. I’m counting on you, Lori. We both are.”

  “You need to be on call at all times. I’m not trained to be a CEO. We’ll have questions.”

  “I’ve seen you two work together. He relies on you more than he does me. You’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Besides, you’ve got my private number. Use it. I want updates on his condition, too.”

  “Not just your precious business?”

  He gripped her hand, anger in his eyes. “That is my brother lying in a hospital bed. I’d throw away this company in a heartbeat if it would assure his health, but it won’t. My brother loves Sinclair Enterprises the way our father did. It’s his whole life. He will not thank either of us if he comes back to himself and finds we’ve let it slip away to hold a vigil at his bedside.”

  She held up her hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  Mildly appeased, he eased back. “I’m going to go check up on him, and then I have to get to the airport. You’ve got this?”

  “I’ve got this.”

  With a curt nod, he was out of his chair and out the door.

  Lori followed more slowly to give them some privacy. She waited at the nurse’s station while Marc entered his sleeping brother’s room. He stood at the foot of the bed, watching his only family breathe in and out. Then, he moved closer to clasp Jackson’s shoulder, his head bowed.

  When he finally strode from the room, he didn’t spare her a glance.

  Looks like I’m on my own now.

  On her own with a damaged billionaire and a corporate takeover to outmaneuver.

  It certainly wasn’t how she’d pictured this day going when she’d practiced her speech on her mirror.

  Chapter Three

  The world was a jumble of light and sound when he opened his eyes.

  Jackson held his breath as the world reordered itself, shapes and shadows morphing into objects he could recognize.

  The main one being the man at his bedside.

  The doctor glanced at the screens by his bed, jotting something down in a file, before the other man’s gaze dropped to his.

  “Finally awake, I see,” Dr. Warren said, closing the file. “I was just checking your vitals. Everything looks good.”

  “What happened?” he asked, his voice raspy.

  “What do you remember?” The doctor moved around the bed to fill a cup of water before handing it to him.

  He drained it in one gulp. “I don’t remember anything before this bed.”

  “Then good news first, I think. Your concussion hasn’t gotten any worse and shows all signs of healing properly. Unfortunately, that hasn’t done anything to reverse your memory loss. Physically, your injuries are all healing properly, so we can get you home by this evening if you feel up to it.”

  “Do I have one?”

  “You do. And luckily, you also seem to have a guide.” Dr. Warren gestured to the chair in the corner.

  Turning his head gingerly, he found the woman from yesterday curled up in an uncomfortable-looking hospital armchair.

  “She refused to leave,” the doctor said, as he flipped through the chart. “Threatened to bring the power of Sinclair Enterprises down on the nurses’ heads if we tried to remove her.”

  “I’d say sounds like her, but I have no idea.”

  “Don’t rush yourself. You may find little things are familiar. A person, a feeling, a place. Sometimes memories come back all at once, and other times it’s a trickle. I’m afraid I can’t be more concrete than that. Amnesia still defies much of our medical knowledge despite all the research that’s been done on it.”

  “Comforting.”

  “I was going for honest,” Dr. Warren said with a smile. “Unless you have any other questions, I’ll go get started on your paperwork. Excuse me.”

  Watching the doctor leave filled him with mixed emotions. He had a feeling he didn’t like hospitals much but even so, the man represented one of the only two people he knew in the world.

  And the other was sound asleep.

  Turning his attention back to the woman, he shifted so he could study her better.

  At first glance, nothing about her appeared familiar. Her blonde hair was tangled around her face and she reminded him of the quintessential girl-next-door. Pretty in a natural way he found oddly appealing. Her mouth hung open as she slept with her hands propped under her chin. Her legs were tangled under her in a way that didn’t look at all comfortable. She’d no doubt have a backache when she woke.

  His gaze dropped lower to take in her wrinkled white blouse. Her clothing may have been corporate, but there was no hiding the curvy body underneath.

  A smile curled his lips and while he didn’t even know his last name, he knew she had to be his type.

  She may not have been familiar, but something about her niggled at the back of his mind.

  Damned memory.

  How was he supposed to function without knowing anything? What did he do for a living? What sort of person was he? Why was this woman dedicated to staying by his side?

  A quick glance at his hand showed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, so that couldn’t be it. There was no engagement sparkle on her finger, either. Not a romantic relationship, then. Or not one that he viewed as permanent. That, at least, didn’t surprise him, though for the life of him he couldn’t explain why.

  She must be a friend, then. Or a relative, he supposed, but the feelings she inspired were certainly not those associated with family. Maybe she was a colleague come to check on him. But staying in his room and sleeping in an uncomfortable chair when she could have just come back at visiting hours pointed to a much closer relationship than coworkers. Didn’t it?

  With a sigh, he flopped back in bed. Guessing was useless. He’d just have to wait until she woke up.

  I don’t wait.

  He frowned at the rogue thought. Everything inside him urged him to reach out and wake her. She’d had beautiful hazel eyes, and he wanted to see them again. Now.

  Be patient.

  The idea rubbed him wrong. He didn’t know why, but something inside him withered at the idea of waiting on anything.

  Is this going to be my life now? Half-formed ideas and instinct tugging me in different directions. Who am I?

  Maybe the woman would know.

  Refusing to hold himself back this time, he rolled as close to her as possible and stretched out a hand. “Wake up,” he ordered. “Wake up and tell me who I am.”

  Because I don’t have a freaking clue.

  …

  “Wake up.”

/>   Lori groaned, covering her eyes with a hand. Why was it so bright? And why did her body hurt?

  She tried to shift, and her foot fell hard to the ground, jerking her body.

  “What?” she demanded, catching herself before she tumbled off the chair. She blinked, looking around the hospital room.

  Right. The accident.

  Jackson.

  It all came flooding back.

  “You awake?”

  Her gaze zeroed in on the sound, bringing her face-to-face with Jackson.

  “Jac—” she breathed, bursting from the chair. “How are you?” She flew to his bedside. “Do you need anything?” She poured his cup full of water without waiting for his response and held it out to him.

  “Thanks.” With one arm, he pushed himself up enough to accept and down the water.

  “How’s your head?” she asked.

  “Better than yesterday,” he replied, holding out the cup for her to refill.

  “Do you—”

  “Remember?” He shook his head with a sigh. “It’s all gone.”

  “Damn,” she said.

  “My thoughts exactly.” He drained the second cup of water without breaking for a breath.

  Tugging the heavy hospital chair over to his bedside, she sat. “You must have questions.”

  “Hundreds.”

  She nodded. “I’m here to help. Fire away.”

  He opened his mouth before shutting it. He glanced at the ceiling, clearly thinking about what to ask, before looking back at her. “Who are you?”

  She blinked. She’d thought his first question would be about himself, not her. “My name is Lori Carlow,” she said. “I’m your executive assistant.”

  “Assistant.”

  “Yes.”

  “Not girlfriend.”

  Her heart clenched, and she lifted her chin. “Sorry to disappoint. You don’t have a current girlfriend, but I’m sure any one of the dating apps can fix that in a heartbeat once you’re well.”

  “Do assistants normally sleep in their boss’s hospital rooms?”

  She turned away. “I’m not a normal assistant.”

  “No,” he agreed. “You must be special.”

  She glanced back at him. “Actually, I’m here because…” She stopped.