Chapter 7 Xavier
I wake up hoping my thoughts from last night come true.
Today is a new day, and with it a new outlook.
I try, I really do. My luck is shit. How can I possibly have a positive outlook?
I have to eat my cereal dry for breakfast because the little bit of milk I have left is sour.
You know that powder shit at the bottom of the box that you try as hard as you can not to pour into your bowl?
Yeah, there is a lot of that as well. I need to get groceries, so I check my banking app for my balance.
Two hundred ten dollars and fifty-three cents.
Savings: zero. HR told me yesterday that my final check would be mailed to me, so who knows how long it will take to arrive.
My rent is due in a few days, but I’ll be late on it now.
Asking for a few days’ grace period is my only option to keep my apartment.
I need a job, and I need it now. I’ve been here before, and promised myself that I wouldn’t be here again.
But the universe apparently has some vendetta against me.
That bitch just laughed in my face and said, “Hold my beer.”
My old laptop makes its usual whirring noise as I boot it up.
I just pray that it doesn’t crash on me this morning during my job search.
First, I need to update my resume, though there isn’t much to add.
I worked several different restaurant jobs during college and for a while after; the project manager position at Albright is my one true job in my field.
Job searching is painful. You see the post, click it, and think to yourself, “Yeah, I could do that.” Then you read the qualifications they are looking for.
Who the fuck needs a master’s degree to be a second-shift supervisor at a storage facility?
I apply anyway. Maybe it’s a typo. I apply to several jobs in my field.
I check the time and realize I’ve been sitting here for four hours.
A low-grade headache is forming behind my eyes, and I am starving.
Jess is meeting me at the café soon, so I decide to get dressed and go ahead to the café to try my luck there.
If nothing else, I can at least get food from the tips.
And yes, I realize I wouldn’t be in as bad a spot as I am if not for my mother.
I would have the two grand to use until I could get back on my feet.
There’s a loud knocking on my door just as I am pulling on my shirt.
It’s probably Jess. I thought we were going to meet at the café, but I must have gotten that wrong.
“I’m coming,” I yell as I take the few steps to cross my entire apartment. The smile on my face vanishes as soon as I open the door fully. Standing in the dingy hall is Declan Murphy, looking so out of place in this rundown building.
“What are you doing here?” My mind is racing a million miles a minute. And that is the question my brain settles on. He shouldn’t be here. I should not have been more than an afterthought to him after last night.
“I’m here to talk to you.” He says it as if it were so obvious that it’s a stupid question for me to ask.
“Apparently, but why?”
“Because I didn’t think you would take a call from an unknown number, and I also doubt you would have called me back if I’d left a voicemail. I came in person instead.”
“How do you know where I live, and how do you have my phone number in the first place?” I know for a fact that I didn’t give him either piece of information. I also remember that I never said my last name.
“My cousin Ronan gave it to me. He can find anything.” Well, that clears up nothing.
Who the fuck is Ronan, and how does he know me?
I don’t understand why Declan Murphy is standing at my door.
A cold shiver runs down my spine. I left last night because I didn’t want to add gasoline to my dumpster fire life.
Did I do it anyway? I’m running through everything we talked about last night and can’t figure out what I said or did to cause this man to be standing at my door.
“Are you going to let me in, or do you want to have this conversation in the hall?” I don’t want to have this conversation at all.
But my neighbors are a bunch of nosy, gossiping fucks, and they do not need to know anything about my business, especially if it has something to do with a Murphy.
I grit my teeth as I step aside and gesture for Declan to enter.
He steps to the center of the room and looks around.
I can see the confusion and questions on his face.
Yeah, my place is small even for a studio apartment.
But I have everything I need, and it’s mine.
Well, for now anyway. If I don’t get an income flowing, I might be homeless again.
He takes in the bed area. I sleep on a futon that is currently in bed mode.
I usually put it in couch mode as soon as I wake up, but this morning was the exception.
I wanted to start the job hunt right away.
He turns, facing the kitchen, at least that is what I call it.
It consists of a sink, two lower cabinets, a hot plate, and a refrigerator that is only slightly larger than a cooler.
“This is nice… cozy?” He says, but it comes out more like a question.
It feels like judgment to me. Something else that I am used to but hate.
I know I don’t have much, and that’s okay.
I have what I do because of me, not because of anyone else.
So, for this fucker to stand in my home uninvited, I might add, is too much for me today.
He was born into money; his shit has been handed to him. Fuck him.
“If you are done looking down your nose at my shit, say what you came to say, and then please leave.” I cross my arms over my chest and hold my chin up. I’ll be damned if he will make me feel less than in my own home.
“Why did you run away last night?” He cocks his head, as if what I am going to say was the most fascinating thing he will ever hear.
In the past, I made excuses because I knew I didn’t want to get on the bad side of him and his family.
But the bastard has come into my space and is demanding answers. Well fine.
“First off, that’s really none of your business.
I wanted to leave, so I did. Second, I don’t need any trouble with you or your family.
So, it was better that I remove myself from the situation.
” My world is crumbling, and it’s taking a lot out of me not to break down.
I can’t deny that I am attracted to him, but I also know he is so far out of my league.
He saved me last night, and we were getting along very well, but it could not go any further than that.
I know it, but for some reason, he doesn’t seem to get it.
“What trouble could my family or I cause you?”
“I don’t know. And that’s the problem. I know who you and your family are, and if I pissed one of you off, even by accident, my life could sink even farther into the toilet than it already is.” Frustration rolls through me. I run my hand through my hair.
“That is actually why I’m here.”
“What is?”
“Your life being in the toilet. I need a PA, and you need a job.”
“I’m sorry, what did you just say? Are you offering me a job, working for you as your personal assistant?
” I am dumbfounded. A fucking billionaire is standing in my shit-box apartment offering me a job.
I must still be asleep, and this is the start of a nightmare.
I want to stay away from him, and here he is suggesting that I see him every day. “No.”
“You haven’t heard the offer yet.”
“Still no.” I shake my head for emphasis. The look on his face darkens for a split second before it smooths back out. He doesn’t like that I am telling him no. He wants something and isn’t getting it, so he tries not to react negatively. It’s manipulation at its finest.
“You said so yourself last night that the job market is terrible right now and that you were not looking forward to the search. I am offering you a very lucrative position to manage my schedule and keep me on time. Don’t worry, you won’t have to pick up dry cleaning or get my lunch.
I have other people for that.” Of course he does.
“I can’t work for you.” Do I know that this is the chance of a lifetime? Absolutely. But do I also know that being around Declan in a professional capacity, day in and day out, and knowing it was something I could never have would kill me? Also, absolutely.
“See, that is where you are wrong. You can and will work for me. Besides, do you think you will be able to find a job once word gets out that I want to hire you?”
My jaw hangs loose. Did he threaten me? It feels like a threat.
I either do what he wants, or he will blackball me.
What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Sweat beads on my back even though the room is cool.
I wipe my clammy palms on my jeans. I have that feeling you get behind your eyes when tears are threatening to fall.
Murphy Enterprises is powerful enough to make his threat a reality for me.
One memo, one word spoken against me, and I will never work in my field again.
“Why are you doing this to me? Is this how you entertain yourself?” I look down at the floor, blinking hard not to show him how this is affecting me. His feet move into my view as he steps in front of me. He lifts my chin with his finger, so I look him in the eyes.
“Because you’re mine.” He says as if that is the only answer I need. What the hell was he talking about? How was I his? I’ve known this man for less than twenty-four hours, and now he is saying I’m his, like he’s claiming ownership or some shit.
“I don’t belong to you. I don’t belong to anyone. I don’t understand what is happening here.” I take a step back from him. I feel so small standing in front of him, not just in size. To his credit, he lets me go and doesn’t crowd me again.
“You do, and you will understand soon enough. A car will pick you up at 7:30 on Monday morning. Don’t be late, I hate waiting.” And with that, he walks out the front door. It takes me several minutes to get my brain and body to reconnect. I grab my phone and call Jess.
“Hello,” she answers with a chipper voice, like my world is not imploding.
“Hey, where are you?” I ask.
“I’m still at my place. We said to meet at 12:30, right?”
“Meet me at the café, like right now. I’m heading out the door. We need to talk.”