Chapter 12
ELOISE
“ Y ou didn’t have to walk me to work,” I tell Ren when we stop at the revolving door outside my office building.
“I was gonna do it anyway.” The half-embarrassed smirk he makes almost makes him seem human.
“Should I maybe...take your number?” I ask awkwardly, it seems insane to me that so much has happened between us in the past forty-eight hours, and I still don’t have a way to contact him.
“You already got it. I saved it while you were sleeping last night,” he tells me as I’m reaching into my bag for my phone.
“And do you want…”
I stop talking and watch as he takes the phone from my hand, enters my passcode, and hits dial. A vibration comes from his pocket, and when he takes it out and shows me the screen, I smile.
“Kitten.” I roll my eyes at him. “Why do you call me that?” I can’t deny the fact that I like it, but I am curious.
“It doesn’t matter.” He avoids my question just like he avoids all the others.
“I should go, my boss hates it when I’m late.” I look over my shoulder toward the door, and when I turn back to face him, I bump noses with him before he kisses me roughly and possessively, right in the middle of the sidewalk, with the world passing us by.
“Have a good day, Kitten,” he tells me once he’s finished, and when I eventually get the strength back in my legs, I head inside, leaving him standing and watching me as I move through the door.
“You're late, Eloise.” Mr. Connor stands by his office door, looking at his watch as I rush from the elevator down the corridor toward my desk.
“Sorry, sir.” I smile as I move past him and take a seat.
He follows close behind me, and I shudder when he leans over my shoulder.
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me,” he whispers in that voice that makes dread seep into my stomach.
There's no denying the fact that Paul Connor is a creep, but he’s the chief editor, and whatever he says around here goes.
“I’d like you to work late tonight. There’s been a lot of slacking around here lately,” he points out, straightening his spine to try and bolster his authority. “Will that be a problem, Miss Meadows?”
“No, sir.” I look up at him before turning on my computer and getting straight to work.
“Slack… Slack? Is he kidding?” Mary-Ann waits for him to return to his office before she leans over from her side of the desk.
“I can’t remember the last time you took a proper lunch break.
If he carries on, you should threaten to go to HR.
” She rests back in her chair and takes a bite of her bagel.
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” I keep my voice low; you never know who you can trust around here.
The last thing I want to do is cause trouble.
I appreciate how lucky I am to have this job; most people with my lack of experience would still be making coffee and struggling with the copy machine.
But I got promoted to junior reporter after being here for less than a month.
I like to think it was my work ethic that got me the job, not the fact that my boss looks at me as if I’m a snack.
My morning passes the same way it usually does.
I keep my head down and ignore the long, leery looks that Mr. Connor makes at me through his office windows.
It feels so different from how it feels knowing I have Ren’s attention.
Like spiders crawling under my skin. At least today, I have a distraction from it.
I think about last night and how Ren pressed my body against that rough, damp wall.
I bite my lip when I remember how his blood tasted seeping through my lips, and it makes me wonder what the hell I’m becoming.
My adult life has been so structured and centred around my anxieties.
I’m loving the adventure of not knowing what happens next.
“A few of us are heading over to Gianni’s, you coming?” Mary-Ann offers, and when I look up at the clock and realize it’s twelve-thirty, I wonder where the time’s gone.
“I wish I could, but I’m nowhere near getting this finished. Figure the more I get done here, the less I’ll have to do tonight.” I look around the office and wonder which other staff members he’s making suffer.
“You want me to grab you something?” she asks.
“Just a coffee, oh, and maybe one of those pastries with the raisins if they have any left.” I take out my purse and hand her a twenty before getting back to the article I’m proofing.
Mary-Ann and the others return with my coffee and a pastry, which may not be the one I asked for, but tastes equally as good. I’m just finishing it off when my phone flashes up on my desk, and I quickly look around for any sign of Mr. Connor before I check it.
You didn’t get lunch again.
I smile at the message from Ren before I quickly snap a picture of my empty coffee cup and the flakes that remain on the paper bag from my pastry.
Actually, I did. It was delicious.
I reply, sending him the picture as evidence.
I’m so tempted to pretend I'm stretching my legs so I can move over to the window and see if he’s lingering around.
From the little I did learn about Ren last night, I know he doesn’t have a regular job.
He claims he makes money from investments, and I’d be interested to know what kind of investments they are.
Good to hear. See you at 5
He replies, which I’m assuming means he intends to meet me after work.
We never made any plans for later, but I’m not mad at the idea of seeing him.
In fact, I can’t think of anything else I want to do more.
Hopefully, the more time we spend together, the more he’ll open up to me and explain why I’m the girl he chooses to pay so much attention to.
Sorry, I have to work late tonight. Tomorrow?
No doubt it’ll be late when I get away, and as tempted as I am to tell him to meet me when I’m done, I’m also very aware of how intense this is becoming.
I can’t allow myself to get so wrapped up in all this that I stop seeing sense.
I’ve already taken so many risks, and being around Ren seems to make me feel invincible.
I like it, but it could also turn out to be dangerous.
Call if you need me.
I smile dreamily before I put my phone down and get back to work.
It feels nice to have someone who I can call.
Katelyn’s a great friend and always there for me when I need her, but this is different.
I don’t feel like a burden to Ren; I feel as if he needs me to need him.
I feel treasured. And I have to consider the possibility that I might be becoming obsessed with his obsession.
“See you tomorrow.” Mary-Ann looks down at me sadly as she pulls on her coat.
“You sure will, I might still be here, chained to this desk.” I roll my eyes, having no idea what Mr. Connor is going to have me working on.
I watch everyone start to leave, noticing that no one else seems to be staying behind, and when I look over to Mr. Connor’s office and I see him smiling at me through the glass, I drop my head and continue reading through Emily Denberg’s interview with the winner of the young fashion designer of the year award.
“Eloise, can you come to my office?” Mr. Connor calls out to me from the door half an hour later.
I slowly stand up and straighten my skirt as I make my way toward him.
I glance up at the CCTV camera that's on the opposite wall to remind myself that it’s there; we may be alone on this floor, but there are other people in the building.
Security could be watching us right now.
“What can I do for you, sir?” I ask, trying to sound confident, men like Mr. Connor get off on weakness.
“Take a seat.” He points to the chair opposite his, and when I do as he asks, I’m unnerved by the fact that he takes the seat beside me instead of the one behind his desk.
“Do you like working here, Miss Meadows?” he asks, in a much more casual voice than the one he normally uses.
“Of course, I do. I love my job and I’m very grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given.” I smile, wishing I hadn't worn a skirt today, when I notice the way his eyes have settled on my knees.
“I’m glad, and you’ve been showing a lot of promise. That's why I feel it’s my responsibility to push you.” He rubs his lips together, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“I was thinking that maybe you would like to write an article of your own.”
“Sir, I would love that.” I sigh in disbelief. Mary-Ann’s worked here for years and has never been trusted to write an article of her own.
“I’m sure you would. You have drive and passion, Eloise, and I just know you're going to give me something that will impress me.” He looks at me expectantly.
“Of course, I will. I’m constantly thinking of ideas for articles, articles that are going to make a difference. Did you know that date-rape crime has increased by?—”
“Slow down, Eloise.” He laughs at me. “I was hoping you could think of another way to impress me.” He sits back in his chair, allowing me to see how aroused he is and smiling like he’s proud of it.
“I…I…I should leave.” I get up and rush for the door, and when all I can do is rattle the handle, I feel that panic take over.
“I think you should stay.” He slowly stalks up behind me, grabbing both my hands to stop me from fumbling with the door and spinning me around.
“Please.” I shake my head, wondering how this could possibly be happening to me again. Why me? “Please.”
“That's more like it.” He sniggers, pinning my arms above my head and pressing himself into my body so I feel his arousal pressed against me.
His sweaty top lip hovers over my neck as his mouth threatens to kiss it, and suddenly, something inside me snaps.
I think about the strong, confident woman I became in the bar last night when Ren was watching me and I imagine that his eyes are on me now, when I raise my knee and slam it hard into my boss’s ballsack.
“ Fuck! ” Mr. Connor folds over, clutching between his legs, while I quickly turn around and figure out how to use the lock on the door.
“You little bitch,” he hisses at me, as I dash out the door and run for the elevator, pressing the button frantically and debating whether I should make a break for the stairs, instead.
Thankfully, the car arrives almost immediately, and Mr. Connor barely has a chance to hobble out of his office before I press the ground floor button and the doors close.
I take long, steady breaths while I wait for it to descend to the main entrance.
My adrenaline is pumping, and although I’m so proud of myself for getting myself out of the situation, I have to question how I let myself get into it in the first place.
Not to mention what the repercussions of my actions will be.
I’m bound to lose my job. I’ll have to go back to making coffee, that's if any other magazine in the city will employ me. Mr. Connor’s always bragging about the connections he has in the industry, what if it's actually true? I paste on a smile for the security guard sitting at the front desk as I head out the door and onto the street to hail a cab, then, when I realize I’ve left my phone on my desk, I beg the driver to let me use theirs as he starts heading toward my apartment.
I key in the only number I know by heart, and when I hear her voice, I burst into tears. “Katelyn, can you come over? I really need you.”