Six
Annalise
"Did you see that email from Veronica?" Mona asked, perching against the counter in our spacious breakroom/kitchen area, hand curled around her steaming mug. "About birthday celebrations going forward?"
"What? No."
She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming like she had the juiciest bit of gossip to share. "So apparently, it's banned now to ask for money for co-workers' birthdays."
"Are you serious?" I gasped. "What the hell is that about?"
"She said they've decided it's not fair, that we don't want to create an environment where employees feel pressured to contribute financially to birthday collections. And something about how we want to foster a workplace culture that is inclusive and considerate of everyone's financial circumstances blah blah blah."
I thought about what she'd said and had to admit I kind of agreed. "Huh. That's interesting. I mean, she has a point."
Mona took a sip of her coffee. "I suppose."
"It's a shame, though, because the gifts were really fun to pick out."
"Well, that's the interesting part. Corporate is going to donate money for the gift-giving now."
"Really?"
"Yeah. And this isn't just Insight Ink. It's all of Echelon."
"All of Echelon?" I repeated. "So Max Sterling is going to buy every single person under his umbrella a bday gift?"
She shrugged. "I guess?"
I thought back to Jared, when I'd asked him to donate, and how annoyed he'd been. Had he complained about it to the higher-ups? "I bet Jared said something," I wondered out loud to Mona.
"You think he complained? Your Jared Jawline?"
"He's not my Jared Jawline," I corrected firmly.
"Jared Jawline?" a deep male voice said. "That's what you guys call me?"
I groaned as I turned to see him entering the breakroom behind me. "That's what Mona calls you. Not me."
He grinned while stroking his chiseled jaw. "I like it." And just as suddenly his grin turned to a frown. "And what do you think I've been complaining about?"
"How much did you overhear?" I asked, not even attempting to keep the vexation from my tone.
"There's more? What all did I miss?"
"We were just talking about the new company policy of no more money collection for birthdays," Mona explained.
"Oh, right. I saw that email." His dark eyes went back and forth between Mona and me. "Personally, I think it's a good idea."
"Of course you do." I started toward the door, not wanting to talk to Jared any more than I had to. "I'm going to get back to work."
Which I really needed to do. I hated to admit it, but the amount of work I had in front of me was daunting and stressing me out. And the added urgency I felt to get the Venus proposal done quickly didn't help.
Whether he knew it or not, Jared had given me a deadline, and now I felt even more pressured. I wanted to get it done and passed on to her people with possibly enough time to hear back before the big charity event next weekend. Or I had this feeling Jared would absolutely insist on the two of us going together and trying to talk to Venus which, knowing Jared, could possibly land us in jail.
A few minutes after I sat down, Jared plopped down in his chair beside me, unloading an armful of chips, already making an obscene amount of noise. Great.
And all day long it continued—crunch, munch, chair squawking, slurp, chair squeaking, crunch and slurp and crunch and slurp.
By the end of the day, as my co-workers said their goodbyes and began to leave, my every last nerve was frayed and frazzled, my hair probably standing on end from holding all my frustration in, trying not to explode at Jared even though he one-hundred percent deserved it.
At least he'd be gone soon and I'd have some blessed peace. I was determined to stay here in this office until I felt decent about the Venus proposal. Going home and relaxing wasn't an option.
After saying goodbye to Mona, I headed to the bathroom and then the breakroom, grabbing a drink and a protein bar, expecting Jared to be gone by the time I returned to my desk. So I was in for a very unpleasant surprise to find him still there, pounding away at his computer.
"Aren't you leaving?" I asked him.
He turned to me, eyes going to my drink and snack. "Not until you leave."
"You don't have to stay."
"I'll leave when you leave."
Did I have to pretend to leave to get him to actually leave? "No, really. I insist."
"Nope. I'm not leaving you here by yourself."
"Oh, is this some kind of chivalry thing? You're going to protect me from the big bad empty office?"
"You never know what could happen. Those rogue staplers can be pretty vicious."
I raised an eyebrow. "Rogue staplers? Really?"
He nodded, eyes alight. "You'd be surprised. One of them nearly took out my finger last week. I've got the battle scars to prove it."
"Your finger. Um, okay. I honestly don't want to know," I said, unable to suppress a small smile. "And I'm perfectly capable of defending myself against office equipment."
He leaned back in his chair, giving me a mock-serious look. "Oh, I'm sure you can. But I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you on my watch."
"Your watch? What? Are you my bodyguard now?"
"Well," he said, flashing a grin that was more annoying than charming, "someone's got to keep an eye on you. Unless you have a significant other waiting for you at home I don't know about."
A significant other? Was this Jared's way of asking if I was single? And why on earth would he want to know that?
"It's none of your business, but no. There is no significant other, and there never will be."
His brows shot up in surprise. "Never will be?"
"Never."
"No one can live up to your standards, I'm guessing."
"Damn right. And I'm quite happy being single. No one I have to listen to breathe. No one sharing annoying videos. No one next to me munching on chips. No one slurping their drink. No one pounding on their keyboard."
He gave me that feigned hurt look that I'd seen from him plenty of times before. "Well, damn, Dee. Sorry my very existence annoys you so much. But annoying or not, I'm staying if you're staying."
"Fine," I said, deciding not to waste any more of my time and give in to Jared's surprising stubbornness, turning back to my computer.
"Fine," he said.
A few seconds later, there was a ping on my computer indicating I had a message. I opened it to find it was from Jared. Who was still sitting right next to me. Who was also oddly quiet. Not slurping, not eating, not even typing.
I turned to glance at him but he didn't turn away from his computer. So instead I read his message.
"Attached is the info you requested on Venus La Fleur."
Huh. I opened the document to find a fully written report on the famous actress, detailing her life history, how she grew up in poverty in a rundown house, how she always dreamed of making it big in Hollywood and rescuing her family, how when she was old enough she worked odd jobs and attended acting classes at night.
Right out of high school, she moved to LA with exactly seventeen dollars to her name, working her tail off and sleeping on someone's couch. And then she finally got her big break with a small role in a low-budget film, catching the eye of a big-time agent.
Jared wrote about her wild Hollywood journey, the ups and downs, the exploitation and extreme sexism she'd encountered along the way, and how she'd triumphed through it all with sheer grit and determination, how she was an inspiration to be true to yourself despite what people say and how the masses can judge you.
When I was done reading, I realized just how well written it was. Suspicious that Jared Jawline couldn't have written this all by himself without any help, I ran the whole thing through a plagiarism check and an AI check.
But the checks came up empty. Jared had apparently completed the project himself.
"Did you read it?" he wrote another message to me, despite literally sitting right next to me still.
"Yes, I read it," I said, turning to him once more.
And this time, he whirled his chair around to face me. "Well?" he prompted.
"Well, it was fine. Thank you."
He snorted. "You're welcome. And it was better than fine. Admit it, Dee."
This man was insufferable. Usually, I was the first one to pass out compliments. Someone got a haircut? "You look stunning." A co-worker had new shoes? "I love those so much." Or someone got a big book deal? "Congrats! You deserve every accolade in the world!"
But complimenting Jared? It tasted like acid on my tongue.
"It was a little better than fine," I admitted through gritted teeth.
Jared laughed his head off, and I turned back to my computer, disgusted, annoyed, and more than a little bit hangry. Despite what it said on my protein bar, that it could fill you up and replace a meal, it hadn't. Not in the slightest.
"Be right back," Jared suddenly said.
Finally, a fucking minute of peace. I thought about ordering food, but then, I'd feel obligated to get something for Jared, and the last thing in this world I wanted to do was break bread with the man.
So ignoring my rumbling stomach, I got to work on the proposal, using Jared's write-up to assist me, crafting an overview detailing what I hoped the book could become. Trying to think of some title possibilities, I stared off into the distance, the sound of the elevator capturing my attention.
I hadn't noticed Jared actually leaving, but I certainly couldn't miss him coming back in, arms loaded down with two huge bags. Grinning, he placed one on my desk. "I figured you might be hungry," he said.
The smell wafting from the bag made my mouth water, and despite my reluctance, I couldn't help but appreciate the gesture. "What is it?"
"Thai food."
One of my favorites. Had he known or was it a lucky guess? "Thai food?"
"Yup. And don't worry. I got Pad Thai for you."
"How did you know that's what I like?"
He shrugged. "Doesn't everyone?"
Maybe he had a point, but there was still something suspicious about it. Instead of questioning him further, I listened to my growling stomach and started unpacking the food, the aroma alone like a gift from heaven.
I opened up the Pad Thai first, taking a few bites and holding back my moan of ecstasy as Jared watched me. "Where is this from?" I asked.
"A little place I know," he said, suddenly turning away to grab his own food.
Why was he acting weird? "Well, what's it called?"
"I can't remember."
"You can't remember? But you literally just got the food from them."
"I wasn't really paying attention," Jared said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know, something with lotus or bamboo in the name. Honestly, I'm the worst with remembering names. Maybe it was Lotus Bamboo or Bamboo Lotus or—"
"Okay. I get it."
If there was one thing Jared was good at, it was belaboring a point. Ignoring him, I turned back to my food to find another container of green curry filled with pieces of chicken and bamboo shoots plus a side of rice. And then yet another container withspring rolls, crisp and golden, paired with a sweet chili dipping sauce.
Everything was extraordinary. Like beyond good. It was the kind of perfection you'd expect from a Michelin-starred restaurant, with flavors that lingered long after each bite.
"Well, if you remember the name of the restaurant, will you please tell me?"
"Sure thing, baby," he said with his signature cocky grin.
I shot him my meanest ever glare as he slurped a noodle into his stupid mouth. "I swear to God..."
"Sorry, Dee. Really. It just slips out sometimes."
"Whatever." He did seem kind of sincere, but God, that was annoying as hell. All I could think about was getting some work done and getting out of here. "Let's brainstorm some titles for Venus' book."
"Oh, I've got a million ideas," he said around a mouthful of food.
"Yeah? What are they?"
He took a moment to wash down his food with a slurpy drink, of course, then met my stare, his eyes shining brightly. "Venus' Victory for one. Venus' Valiant Voyage. Or this one... Venus La Fleur: From Vulnerability to Valiance. Or maybe Vanquishing—"
I held up a hand. "You know what? I'm going to stop you right there. I mean, what the hell is with all the alliteration? Are you Max Sterling's long lost cousin or something?"
He choked on his drink. "What? No, of course not," he sputtered. "I just... I just like it. I think it's catchy and effective."
"There's such a thing as too much of a good thing, you know."
"But maybe Max Sterling is onto something, though. Alliteration works . The man is a self-made billionaire. Uber successful. Not to mention extremely attractive. He's magnetic. He's—"
"Oh, my God. Would you stop? It's not like he's right here listening to all your ass-kissing and going to give you a promotion and a raise. Not that he would do that. Billionaires don't get rich by being nice or being generous with their money."
"I beg to differ. Some do." He shrugged at my disbelieving glare. "Okay. Maybe a rare few . But from what I've heard, Max Sterling is different."
"Max Sterling is perhaps the biggest asshole of them all," I argued, remembering all the times he'd looked down on me like I was a piece of gum on the bottom of his million-dollar shoe, pretending not to know me or my sisters, like we hadn't met many times before or been to hundreds of the same events together over the years.
"Why do you think that? Have you met him? Has he personally done something to you?"
Oh, crap. I could hardly tell Jared the truth. My brain worked overtime trying to come up with something, anything I could tell him. "He just.. he just..."
"He just what?"
"Nothing really."
"Nothing really? You obviously hate the man. And I'm curious why. I'd like to know what kind of person I'm working for."
"Okay. He's not that bad," I admitted, wondering if I should give him a sliver of the truth. "It's just that I've met him a few times and he never remembers me."
"He doesn't rememberyou? Like at work events?"
"Yeah. And he acts like he's above us all."
That was another layer of truth. Although I had to admit, the one time I'd met him as Cordelia, albeit at a distance, he'd been very friendly and personable with us all. But I knew underneath that smooth exterior was the heart of a rich asshole. I'd seen it time and time again with him as my real self. So that meant the work Max Sterling just turned on the charm for his employees.
"He does? Really?" Jared asked.
"Yep," I lied. "Sure does."
"Huh. Strange. I've heard nothing but great things about him." Jared's look of confusion changed to a smile. "Maybe he just doesn't like you ."
I shot him the middle finger. "Well, I'm pretty sure he would despise you."
He laughed. And laughed again. "You're probably right."
"Can we please get back to work? Despite the immense pleasure it is to hang out with you, I'd really like to go home sometime before midnight."
"Aw," Jared said. "The pleasure is all mine, Dee."
I decided to ignore him, which I had discovered was the best policy with Jared and all his annoyances. "So back to a title..."
Hours later, we'd settled on some tentative titles, ones without any alliteration, thank fuck, and we'd written most of the proposal. I'd wanted to hammer out more, but when the words started to blur and become nonsensical, it was definitely time to go home.
We headed to the elevator together, the usually bustling hallways completely empty, the overhead lights dimmed to save energy.
"Have you ever noticed," Jared began as we waited, "that when you say a word over and over it starts to become really weird?"
"It's called semantic satiation."
"There's a word for it?"
"Technically two words. But yeah."
He elbowed me. "You're a fucking smartie pants. You know that?"
Laughing, I moved forward into the otherwise empty elevator. "I know."
"Elevator. Elevator. Elevator. Elevator," he said next to me.
I sighed. Only a few more minutes until I'd be rid of this guy. And then, only a few more minutes until I was home. Home sweet home.
First, I'd change and get rid of this damn bra. Next, I'd—
The elevator lurched and came to an abrupt stop, plunging us into sudden silence, making the gasp I gasped as loud as a gunshot.