This Crazy Rich Boy - Chapter 89

“What in hell was that?” Miguel asks, who heard the loud slam.

Claire hesitates. “It’s… It’s Gabriel. He seemed angry.”

“Angry over what?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought you said you two were okay.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too. He even gave me a new phone, for company use.”

“Then why…” Miguel pauses. He sighs. “Gabriel is like that sometimes. Did he say anything, some hint to what he might be feeling earlier?”

“No idea,” Claire says; she tries to stop her voice from shaking, afraid that Miguel might hear it. “I was just… I don’t know what happened.”

“He was probably talking to his people again, and got some bad news.”

Claire says nothing.

“Are you all right?” There’s concern in Miguel’s voice.

“I’m fine,” she mutters.

“I’m sorry, Claire,” he says.

“You don’t have to,” she says, and at the tail-end of what she said, her voice was hoarse. “There’s nothing to be sorry. You know how Gabriel can be sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I got used to it. I have to. He’s my brother.”

They both fall silent for a while. Claire tries to dredge her memory of what could have taken place before Gabriel snapped at her. On one hand, it seemed legitimate that, as her boss, Gabriel would want to set an example of her in front of all the other employees by yelling at her about the rule on speaking on the phone. On the other hand, it wasn’t obvious that she was making a personal call—no one else except Gabriel could have heard what she was saying on the phone, and by all appearances she could be seen making a business-related phone call on his behalf. So there was no need for that kind of show, unlike all the other instances in the past—she could still recall how Gabriel threw that vase down the hallway after that lunch with Claudia and Mary. So it was completely a perplexing thing. Why would he get mad? Is it…

“Is it possible that he heard you?” Miguel says.

“That’s what I’m thinking just now,” she says. “Is there anything bad about what I said?”

“Maybe he was just pissed that you’re talking to someone about last night.”

“And he realized it was you?” she says. “Hmmm.”

“He’s jealous,” Miguel teases, laughing. “He wants you for himself, and himself alone, in the whole wide world.”

Claire blushes, good thing Miguel doesn’t see it. “Stop it. That’s not true.”

“Oh, you’re not telling me the whole truth about last night, Claire,” he says. “Maybe he did really kiss you, as you said, ALL NIGHT LONG.”

“Mary, we’re coming out to lunch, right?” Claire says aloud, pretending Mary’s right in front of her, asking her out. “Sorry, Miguel, have to run for lunch. Talk later. Bye!”

She puts down the receiver even before Miguel could say a thing. That was close. Miguel is insufferable; he just won’t stop. She realizes now that she got in trouble because of Miguel—last night, everything would not have happened if Miguel didn’t bring her to the amusement park. And now this: Gabriel would have overheard NOTHING if she wasn’t on the phone trying to parry off Miguel’s incessant questions. That should be the last time; Claire makes a solemn promise to herself to avoid Miguel at all cost. These are critical times: Michelle is coming, her role is becoming serious, and she needs to learn fast how to use these new-fangled gadgets Gabriel provided to her. Whatever hurt she felt when Gabriel snapped at her earlier, she has to swallow it and hide it at the very bottom of the day’s current concerns. Perhaps she should talk to Gabriel later.

Coincidentally, Mary actually passes by her desk on the way to the office dining room. “Do you have time to eat with us today, or are you going out again for some important top-secret fine-dining luncheon meeting?” Mary grins innocently.

“The powers-that-be have all but forgotten about me, Mary,” Claire says, standing. “I’m all yours.”

“My goodness,” Mary chirps. “I feel so honored!”

“Aww, Mary, stop it,” Claire giggles.

“Seriously, I feel so proud to be walking the hallways of this office and making a grand entrance to the dining room with you, Bella,” Mary says, smiling. “It feels as if I’m suddenly cool by ȧssociating with you.”

“I’m just a lowly employee here, Mary, just like everybody else.”

Mary gazes at her. “You don’t look like an employee, Bella. Why are you always so glamorous? Like you have a personal stylist from Hollywood that chooses everything you wear every morning.”

Claire almost chokes on her inward laughter. Oh, Mary. If you only know. “I’m not doing anything different, Mary. I just try to put on the first thing I found in my wardrobe.”

“Oh, in my apartment, we don’t have a wardrobe. Only hangers.”

Claire stops herself from saying something.

Mary leans toward her and whispers conspiratorially. “Everybody’s talking about you.”

Claire blinks. “In what context? I hope in a good way.”

Mary gestures with her hands. “Some good, some bad,” she says. “Of course, all the women are curious—and envious. They wonder about from what school were you, are you rich, why are you in that job, et cetera. They wonder how is it possible for someone who looks like you to be working as executive ȧssistant of Gabriel Tan, how are you able to stand him when a lot of others did not? And the clincher? They wonder if you have…a sugar daddy!”

Claire laughs out loud. “Oh, my God!” She looks around. They’re walking on the hallway toward the elevator lobby, along with most of the other employees who are giving them “the look,” which means either they are curious about her and wants to know her more, or they just hate her guts. She catches some of the girls staring at her, so she says aloud, “Do I look like I have a sugar daddy? In what planet is that possible?”

Mary only giggles more at that, which proves to be contagious, as Claire is also giggling like a teenager.

“So today’s your first official lunch at our very own dining room,” Mary says. “Oh, my God, I’m so excited. It feels like the first day of high school!”

“Did I hear that right earlier,” Mary again whispers to her ear.

“What about?”

“Was the boss yelling at you for using the desk phone?”

Claire makes an embarrassed laughter. “Oh, that was a misunderstanding. Mister Tan was just…”

The elevator doors before them slide open, and what do they see? Gabriel Tan, with that resting bitch face, who sees Claire but acts like he doesn’t even know her. He walks out, and the crowd of employees obsequiously part like the Red Sea.

“Is he still angry?” Mary says.

Claire gazes at Gabriel as he walks away. Seriously, she’s not sure anymore what’s going on in this man’s head. How—and where—does she even start in trying to fix everything?