Chapter 5
Audrey Tripp
The black letters swim in my vision. I blink and read the educational requirements again, but my brain refuses to process the words, so I skim lower.
With fewer hours, almost double the wages, astronomically better benefits, and a defined list of duties, this contract is a dream come true.
Or would be, without the damning words near the top of the page.
I swallow as emotions clog my throat.
The dates at the bottom mock me.
I have three months to meet the requirements, or I lose my job.
Three months to study for, schedule, and pass the General Educational Development Test while working crazy hours due to the company’s leadership change and following reformations.
After my ex-stepfather’s attack, I never went back to school. I never graduated, so I don’t have a diploma. Just the thought of opening a textbook would send me running to the toilet to vomit.
I swallow again and close the folder. Cold sweat trickles down my back.
Bottomless blue eyes pierce into my soul. For the tiniest sliver of time, I long to throw myself at my big brother and bury my face against his chest. I want his strong arms wrapped around me.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, pulling me away from my insanity. Since most people who message me are in the room, it must be an update about my mother.
Reality barrels into me like a freight train. I look away and focus on breathing. Everything hurts. I tremble from head to toe. My legs feel like jelly.
I can’t lose this job. My mom depends on me.
I grit my teeth and grip the folder so hard the edge digs into my palm.
I’ve overcome my fear before. It took years to piece myself back together after my ex-stepfather’s attack, but I did it. I can do it again.
Three months. I’ll get my GED and renew my employment contract.
Even if I didn’t need it to keep my job, I’ve put it off long enough.
Having the equivalent of a high school education is the bare minimum for most jobs.
By not having my GED, I’ve set myself up for failure; no reputable company will hire me for a halfway decently paying job without one, no matter how impressive my employment record is.
With my decision made, I tuck the folder behind my tablet and force my mind into the present.
Brennan sits leaned back with his chair swiveled toward me, his elbows on his armrests, and his fingers steepled in front of his chest. His stare bores into me as though he can read my deepest, darkest thoughts by sheer force of will.
I swallow, preventing my heart from leaping free, and glance around, expecting everyone else to be looking at me as well, but an older Black man holds everyone’s attention with a presentation on the projector.
Despite my every effort, my mind refuses to focus on the slides. The next few minutes pass in slow torture as I avoid my ex-stepbrother’s stare. Hot and cold flash through me in waves. His attention is too much.
Before he abandoned me thirteen years ago, his touch was always and only comforting, but at the wedding and today, his powerful hands and hungry eyes are anything but.
He’s studying me too intently. I can’t breathe.
When the man finally ends the presentation and hands the meeting over to Ms. Baker, the woman who gave me my renewal contract, sweat trickles down my sides and back, and every nerve ending buzzes with electricity. My nipples chafe in my bra, and tightness plagues my lower abdomen.
Brennan thumbs his lip. My chest tightens, and heat pools between my legs.
Self-disgust roars through me. I bite the inside of my cheek and ignore the unwanted desire pulsing through my veins.
Ms. Baker clicks to a new slide and explains the upcoming company-wide announcement, press conference, and order of events for the next few days. She emphasizes critical meetings and expectations before turning to her boss.
Without taking his eyes off me, he nods. Ms. Baker thanks everyone for their cooperation and ends the meeting.
Trapped in the corner like prey by his gaze, I don’t dare move despite my instincts demanding I escape the room. Even as the people around us begin to break free, the tension between us keeps me rooted to the spot.
He stands, breaking my immobility, and I flee like the coward I am.
The day has been too much already, but it’s nowhere near over.
No one stops me as I slip into the hall, but even without the tension emanating from the room, my senses remain on high alert. I rush to the bathroom and lock myself in a stall.
After a few deep breaths, which do nothing to calm my mind, I check my messages and confirm my mom is settled in her new facility. Her dreamy smile as she lies in her freshly made bed while looking out the window squeezes my heart with bittersweet emotions.
She’s safe. Her ex-husband—Brennan’s father—can’t reach her now.
I’m not safe. The longer I hide in the bathroom, the more time my new boss and coworkers have to form a negative opinion of me, but I can’t go back out there without a bit more confidence, so I open a new tab on my phone browser and run a quick search.
Taking a GED is free, but since I haven’t studied in thirteen years, I don’t trust my knowledge, so I find official online study materials, email a free printable GED practice test to my work address to print later, use the restroom, wash my hands, and step out into fresh upheaval.
New and old faces navigate the space like predators sizing each other up for the best hunting spot. My tablet dings with an email marked as important. The notification shows it’s the company-wide announcement.
I smooth a hand over my hair and glance into the conference room as I pass. Two small groups chat at either end of the table. The discussions seem cordial enough, even though tension still emanates from the room.
I continue past the reception area and down the hall toward the CEO’s office.
A cardboard box sits on my desk. The few items I kept on top—my name placard, ergonomic desk mat, a clock, pens, and a notepad, are nowhere in sight.
Ms. Baker rises and dumps an armful of items from the left drawers into the box. She flicks unimpressed eyes my way before shutting the drawers and moving around to the other side.
“Ms. Baker, may I help you?” I ask.
She opens the second set of drawers and rummages through them.
“This is the closest desk to the CEO’s office,” she says.
I curl my fingers tighter around my tablet as she lifts my purse out of the drawer and tosses it into the box.
“Yes, it is.” I manage in a somewhat neutral tone. “I’ve worked from this desk for three years, but if you need—”
“I always use the desk nearest Mr. Diamond’s during an acquisition,” she interrupts.
I take a deep breath and resist the urge to smack her as she lifts my zippered tote out from underneath.
“That’s fine, Ms. Baker, except those are my—”
With an annoyed huff, she drops my tote on the desk so hard the sound makes me flinch. She lifts her hard, hazel eyes to mine as she reaches for the zipper.
“Ms. Tripp, are we going to have an issue?” she challenges.
My patience snaps. I step forward and close my fist around the top of my tote, preventing her from unzipping it.
“We will if you insist on invading my privacy. These are my personal belongings, Ms. Baker,” I scold.
Her scowl deepens.
“Is there a problem?”
Every hair on my nape lifts as Brennan’s low, smooth voice travels up my spine from behind me.
Ms. Baker opens her mouth to speak, but I answer first.
“No, Mr. Diamond, there’s no problem. Ms. Baker agreed to give me a few minutes to empty and clean the desk for her,” I say.
A few tense moments pass. I hold Ms. Baker’s gaze until she looks over my shoulder. Whatever she sees in her boss’s eyes changes her attitude. She releases my tote and steps back.
“Bring your things into my office when you’re done, Ms. Tripp,” Brennan says.
I stiffen and turn to argue, but he already strides past me and into the CEO’s office. When I turn back toward my desk, Ms. Baker’s glare promises retribution. I pause, but she huffs and stomps down the hall.
After sorting my things into the box so they won’t break, I finish emptying the desk of everything except basic office supplies and wipe everything down with the disinfectant wipes I keep on the ledge behind the desk before flinging my purse and tote bag over my shoulder.
A massive set of arms swoops down and lifts the box of my personal items before I can grab it. I stifle my yelp even as I jump backward and bump into the wall.
My stepfather’s tie and suit fill my vision. I can’t move. His hands reach for me. He’ll hurt me again.
My name rings in my ears.
I dart out from behind the desk, too panicked to think of anything but escape, and whack my hip on the corner so hard I lose my balance.
I crash into a muscular chest. Strong arms wrap around me. A familiar mix of cinnamon, clove, and man fills my nostrils.
Brennan.
My nose recognizes him before I do. I was too distraught earlier to process how delicious he smells.
Deep down in my soul, relief pours through me, but adrenaline and embarrassment won’t allow me to relax. I push against his chest.
“Be still, Ms. Tripp.” His respectful use of my surname clears my mind of my memories and roots me in the present. “You hit the desk hard enough to knock the monitor off the edge. Are you okay?”
I blink at the genuine concern in my stepbrother’s tone.
Ex-stepbrother, I remind myself.
I nod and force my lungs to expand.
“Do you have your balance?” he asks.
I clear my throat and cringe as my voice emerges raw and uneven.
“Yes. I’m fine, thanks.”
He cups my shoulders for a moment before stepping back.
I don’t dare lift my gaze to meet his even though my skin tingles from his perusal.
When he takes the box from the desk again and stalks into the CEO’s office without a backward glance, I finally lift my head and freeze.
Mr. Williams stands in the hallway with a group of other executive officers and managers. Mortification floods my veins with ice.