Chapter 11
Amelia
After I leave Lucas’s office and power on my computer, I have several emails from Kaitlin waiting for me. I sift through them while drinking my latte. It’s one of the best cups of coffee I’ve ever had.
Julia sends me the minutes she needs me to write up, and I change them, updating her corporate slang into something more like English. I’m not familiar with all the initials of the people used and who is speaking to whom, but I highlight anything I’m unsure about.
I receive a heart emoji in response and a ‘thank you’ in capitals, and smile to myself. I actually feel like I’m making a difference to their daily tasks.
Taking a break, I head to the kitchen for another coffee, lingering over it as I listen to the rumble of voices on the other side of the partition.
My mind is still in Crawford’s office, and what we did today.
I enjoyed myself this morning. I didn’t expect to; in fact, after yesterday, I had thought having sex might be uncomfortable for a long time.
I was pretty sore when I first lowered myself onto him, but the pain was much less jarring than yesterday.
Once he was fully inside me, I was able to feel the pleasure moving through me for the first time.
My fingers tighten on the cup. And coming while he was inside me was hotter than anything I could have imagined.
I blush as I remove the spoon from the cup and pick up the creamer.
Behind me, Kaitlin hurries in. She hasn’t noticed me, glaring at her phone and rubbing her forehead as we almost collide.
“Oh my God, sorry Amelia,” she says as she leaps back in surprise. “I didn’t see you.”
“That’s okay, everything alright?”
Kaitlin glances once more at her phone before putting it in her pocket. “Yeah. Just family stuff. My little boy’s been sick, and the doctor keeps cancelling his appointments.”
A wave of sympathy rushes through me as I look at her. There are bags beneath her eyes, and her lipstick has faded on her lower lip where her teeth have been worrying at it.
“I’m sorry to hear that. How old is he?” I say.
“He’s three,” she smiles ruefully. “I know I don’t look old enough to have a kid. I get carded everywhere I go.”
I laugh. “Me too, we should probably enjoy it while it lasts. You want me to make you a coffee?”
“No, that’s alright.”
“Is there anything else I can help with?”
She hesitates, one hand on the kitchen cabinet as she glances at the door behind me.
“Uh, well, if you could deal with the paper order, that would be great. Although it’s a big one this month,” she shakes her head. “Actually, don’t worry, it’s not fair to ask you to do it when you’ve only just started. It took me weeks to get the hang of it.”
“That’s okay. I’m happy to help if I can. Send it over, and if there’s anything I don’t understand, I’ll ask you.”
Kaitlin takes a cup out of the cabinet and glances at me warily. “Thanks.”
My brow furrows. “What is it?”
She pulls the coffee toward her, glancing at the entrance to the kitchen again. “Don’t tell Beatrice I’m giving you more stuff to do, okay? She’s been impossible all morning.”
“I won’t say a word, don’t worry. And I won’t screw it up, I promise.”
Kaitlin laughs. “I wish I had your confidence. It’s like you’ve done this job all your life.”
“Oh, it’s all an act,” I say with a grin. “I’m really quite incompetent!”
Kaitlin chuckles as I flash her a wave and leave the kitchen.
By the time I’m back at my desk, I only have to wait a couple of minutes before the email comes through. Opening it, I’m pleased to see it’s a supplier I’ve used at another job. I used to have a good relationship with one of the account managers, and I smile, knowing that he’ll do anything I ask.
I pick up the phone and get to work.
By 3 p.m., I’ve barely thought about the other part of my job at all. Kaitlin and Julia have stopped by regularly to thank me for my help, and I’m starting to feel like one of the team.
Beatrice is still a ghost, never coming within thirty feet of me, but I try not to take it personally.
I eat lunch alone, spending some time talking to Annabelle.
As we laugh together, she tells me how much more relaxed I seem, even after such a short time on the job.
I didn’t realize how much my stress was getting to her, but she’s mentioned it several times.
It’s certainly nice to just have to think about one job for a change.
The afternoon passes quietly after our call. As I reply to a few emails, I notice the latte cup on my desk again. I want to return it to Crawford, but I’m too nervous about knocking on his door.
Upon closer examination, I can see some kind of engraving at the base of the cup. Picking it up, I squint at it, trying to make it out. It’s beautifully done; two letters intertwined with one another. An ‘L’ and an ‘M’. I swallow, running my thumb over it.
This must be the ‘Megan’ that Kaitlin was talking about.
My stomach churns, and I’m about to place it back down on my desk when the door to Crawford’s office bursts open and I almost drop the cup in surprise.
Placing it gently back down, I wait as he comes over to stand opposite me. His dark brown eyes are fixed on me, and he puts his hands in his pockets.
I feel an infuriating blush heat my cheeks as I look up at him. There’s an intensity in his gaze that makes me tremble. He’s wearing shoes, which means he must be headed out of the office, and my mind races to try and recall if he had an appointment this afternoon. I can’t remember one.
“Come with me,” he says, his voice rumbling over me like thunder.
He doesn’t wait for me to follow him, and I scramble to grab my purse, tugging my jacket off my chair as I run after him.
I stumble as I leave my office and catch Beatrice’s eye, where she’s sitting at her desk. She looks at Crawford, then back at me, narrowing her eyes before she returns to her work.
Oh great, and now I’m somehow encroaching on her territory.
By the time I reach the elevators, I’m breathless and have to hop inside behind Crawford before the doors close. I’m not sure he even noticed I wasn’t right behind him.
I move to the back of the elevator, trying to calm my racing heartbeat. He looks even taller in the confined space, and my eyes run over the immaculate line of his body. He looks distinguished and elegant, whereas I feel like a hot mess.
I’m tense, wondering if he’ll do anything or say anything while we’re in the cramped space, but he doesn’t move. After a while, I notice him glancing up to the corner of the elevator and see the camera. I feel a little bubble of satisfaction.
Maybe he would do something with me right now if we weren’t being watched.
The elevator dings, and we end up in the parking lot. I drove today, and my shitty car is squatting between a bunch of Mercedes and Range Rovers. I keep my eyes on the ground as we step out of the elevator.
I expect us to walk to Crawford’s car, but instead, a black Lexus rolls up to us, as if conjured by thought alone.
As it slows to a stop, a sturdy-looking guy with a shaved head gets out and opens the door for Crawford. He has a huge grin on his face and stifles a laugh as Crawford murmurs something to him before he disappears inside.
The driver turns to me. He looks more like a bodyguard than a chauffeur and indicates that I should go around to the other side.
“My lady,” he says as he opens the door, and I’m unable to hold back a snort.
“My lord,” I say without really thinking about it, and he cackles as he closes the door after me.
Suddenly, I’m in the confines of the dark little space with Crawford. It’s gorgeous beige leather inside, with endless legroom, but I can feel myself getting hot. Being this close to him after everything we did this morning makes me ache.
He’s on his phone, not looking at me, and all I can think about is being naked on top of him. I look out of the window to distract myself as the driver gets in.
“Zanetti’s, please, Melvin, and step on it.”
“Right you are, sir. Would the young lady like some music on?”
Crawford shoots Melvin a look so venomous it makes me shrink back in my seat.
If it were aimed at me, I’d assume I was fired on the spot.
But Melvin just winks, and, to my surprise, Crawford gives a low, reluctant laugh in response.
His lips quirk upward, and his eyes soften. It utterly transforms his face.
“Just shut up and drive, Melvin,” Crawford mumbles, the irritation firmly back in his voice.
“Right you are, Mr. Crawford. You let me know if you need the heat up in the back, my lady; he likes it arctic in here.”
“Would you be quiet and do your job, man? She doesn’t need to be pampered.”
I hide a smile as Melvin rolls his eyes at me in the rearview, and I can’t help letting out a little laugh. I’m pretty sure I hear Crawford sigh, but the rest of the journey is silent.
He’s on his phone the whole way, and when I glance at his phone screen, it looks as if he’s reading a lengthy document peppered with tracked changes.
I want to ask if there’s anything I should be doing.
He hasn’t explained where we’re going or what is expected of me.
I’m nervous, wondering if I should be actively working in some way.
His presence is making the inside of the car feel like the size of a thimble. My eyes follow his strong jawline, pausing on his pouting lips.
I wonder what it would be like to kiss him.
I blink, turning back toward the window, pushing that thought firmly away, and squeezing my hands together in my lap.
Eventually, we turn down a tiny side street between two dark brick buildings. Ahead of us, a vent in the street sends billowing clouds of white smoke into the air.
I frown, looking around me. It’s dark and dingy here, and not at all where I was expecting to end up. Everything about Crawford is so classy, and we appear to have stopped in a place unhoused people might choose as a quiet spot to sleep.
Melvin hops out and comes to my side first. I feel a quiver of unease as I get out of the car. I’ve just blithely got into a car with two men I hardly know and haven’t asked any questions about our destination. I am an idiot.
“It’s this way.”
Crawford is already walking along the street with a purpose. There’s nothing obvious ahead of us in the little alleyway except a low, black awning on the right-hand side.
We pass two bulky dumpsters, a strong odor coming from one, which makes my nose wrinkle.
Crawford stops beneath the black awning, ducking his head under it as he knocks at the even smaller door beneath. I glance at him in confusion, then back at Melvin, but to my dismay, the car is already backing out of the alley. My throat tightens.
Where the hell are we?
I jolt slightly as the door opens. In the darkness beyond, a tall man emerges wearing an immaculate three-piece suit.
He opens it wider, nodding to Crawford, who steps inside without hesitation. I stare after him, not knowing what awaits me at the base of the stairs. The tall man is motionless; his gaze fixed on me as Crawford disappears.
“Amelia, hurry up!”
I leap forward, following his voice down a long, rickety staircase to a short hallway. My mind is imagining every possible scenario under the sun.
Could this be a secret sex club he’s decided to bring me to? Surely, he’d have had to approve that with me first?
Crawford’s expression is bored as we wait for the man to descend the stairs behind us, and then he opens a door to my right and beckons for me to go in.
As I step inside, my jaw drops to the floor.
It’s a clothing boutique. The kind of room I could imagine standing in if I were trying on wedding dresses. High-end, designer wedding dresses.
Mirrors line the walls, dark wooden frames heavy and ornate around each one. The entire space has an old-fashioned feel, as if it has been there for decades. Clothes of every type imaginable are displayed on racks around the walls.
An elderly woman appears from behind a curtain to the side, with a tape measure hanging around her neck. She has huge boots on, with thick soles that add to her height, but she can’t be much taller than five feet. Crawford towers over her.
“Luca. You must give me more notice next time,” she murmurs in a heavy Italian accent, approaching me and circling me like a shark.
It’s not like the appraisal Crawford gave me the day before. It’s more like a teacher examining a complex math problem she has to solve.
“Ellie, this is Amelia,” Crawford says. “Amelia, this is Eleanora Zanetti. She’s a wizard. She’ll fit you for some new suits and clothes. Pick whatever you like. The bill’s on me.”
I stare at him, feeling my face go red. He doesn’t seem to notice my embarrassment, but I want the floor to open up beneath me.
My boss is so appalled by my clothing that he’s brought me to a boutique on his own time to buy me new ones.
I remain still, thankful that Crawford isn’t looking at me. I think about the months I’ve spent saving just to be able to buy the underwear I’m currently wearing—for him. There have been times in recent months when I’ve saved every penny I earn and still didn’t have enough money for food.
People like Crawford don’t understand what it is to have nothing, to earn so little you can barely afford food, let alone beautiful clothes. I feel the bitter sting of tears at the back of my eyes and try to hide it. Crawford sits down, back on his phone.
“Come, come,” Eleanora says to me and tugs me over to a booth in the corner.
I’m pushed into a spacious dressing room, and then the curtain is pulled across, and we are in relative privacy.
“You are beautiful,” she says, her voice no more than a whisper. “You do not need clothes to make you beautiful. Men do not understand that, yes? Let him spend his money though.” She leans closer. “We will make you shine.”
Then she leaves me alone. I drop my purse on the floor, wipe away the tears that fall down my cheeks, and straighten my spine.
Let him spend his money.
That sounded like a challenge. I decide to choose the most expensive fucking clothes in the whole store just to spite him.