Chapter 11
11
Juni
Officially being friends with Andrew doesn’t solve my immediate issues. Mainly that I live in the same building, and he still doesn’t know. Oh, and he’s my boss.
During my first few days at work, we never ran into each other. I have no idea how luck was on my side, but it was a clean sweep for the week. So yeah, that we’re working in the same office will come as a surprise to him as well.
This whole friends thing adds extra complications.
I do the only thing that’s right. I march into work on Monday with a formal letter of resignation ready to send from my draft emails—one for the agency, who is really the only one I need to send it to, and one for Laurie, the head of HR at CWM. She’s been so supportive that I feel I owe her the personal courtesy.
The problem is, I’ve enjoyed this job. Having a routine and accomplishing daily tasks has been fun, and exceeding their expectations is exhilarating. I may not be professionally trained for the job, but I think I’ve done well at picking up the skills required. Even with the position extending for ten weeks, I had just adjusted the dread of anticipation to return. Now I’m full of doubts again. Did I knowingly sabotage myself?
Does it matter anymore?
No. I need to walk away before I sabotage my new friendship. I email Laurie, set the calls to go to the answering service, and head to the Cave before the bossman shows up. It’s a straight shot down the hall, but I look both ways just to make sure the coast is clear before I even step a foot through the main doors. I dash ahead but slow when I reach the other end of the walkway. I’m quick to study each plaque, finding Head of HR on the fourth door.
Knocking lightly, I wait to enter until I hear, “Come in.”
I spin inside, my back pressing to the door, and a sense of relief washes through me.
Laurie asks, “Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” I say, waving my hand like it’s no big deal. I don’t tell her I’m hiding from the CEO. That would just lead to questions for answers I don’t have. “I’m fine.” Approaching her desk, I continue, “I would like to speak with you about?—”
“I just got your email.” She angles her chair toward me and rests her arms on the desk in front of her. “I’m kind of surprised. This is a temporary job. You said you’ve enjoyed being here when I checked in with you last Friday. I felt like it was a good fit so far. Do you mind me asking why you decided to leave? You don’t have to answer, of course, if you don’t want to. I’m just curious if you can help me fill in the blanks.”
I silently check off each point in my head.
The boss is sexy.
He’ll think I’m stalking him. Again. He’ll think I lied about knowing he works here.
I also, just by pure coincidence, live in the same building as him.
And finally, Andrew, aka Mr. CEO, and I are friends. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure he won’t get a kick out of the previous three points.
None of the above appear to be viable avenues to travel down when explaining the situation, so I take a more obvious route. “I do enjoy the office and most everyone I’ve met . . .” I don’t mention Justin or how he hangs around the front desk a little too long or makes me uncomfortable when he insists on showing me the new steno pads in the supply room. “I’m just not being challenged.”
“I was afraid of that.” If eyes could physically light up, hers do. “I’m also not upset to hear you say that. I know you’re overqualified for the position, but you’re very good at it.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Joseph and I were talking about offering you full-time employment, either up front or somewhere else in the office. We think you can find something challenging here at CWM that you’ll enjoy.” Leaning forward like an old friend, she says, “We want you to stay, Juni. You’re efficient at multitasking and personable on the phone and to coworkers. Our office never looked better, and you put care into everything you do. You’re special, and we would hate to lose you.”
“Full-time employment?” That’s not what I expected when I came here, and I’m not sure how it makes me feel.
“Yes. Is that something you’re interested in doing?”
I thought I already knew the answer. That’s why I sent the email. But now, hearing of the possibilities potentially changes things. My financial backing has allowed me to live life on my own terms and avoid getting involved in a job professionally. Dedicating my time and energy to professional pursuits did not turn out well once upon a time. When everyone counted on me most, I blew my chances at winning the grant my parents so desperately needed.
That money would have supported their team to continue their work after their death, and I failed.
Karl stepped up with my research in hand and won the judges over with my presentation. The worst part— I let him . I thought he was doing me a favor, helping me when I froze from the news I’d just been given. Instead, he shattered my heart more than it had already been broken.
Anger courses through me, and when I look down, I’m fisting my hands. Karl was right. I am bitter. To this day, his actions made me leave a part of my heart on that stage that I’ve never been able to recover. I lost my passion for botany because of him, and I haven’t been the same since.
I can’t fix the past, but with time and distance to the accident, I’ve learned nothing is worth sacrificing time with the ones you love—no job, no hobby, no passion. We get one chance at this life, and I want mine to matter.
Is a new opportunity in line with that thinking, or is it finally time to put my past to bed? “Can I think about it?”
“Yes, please do. And if you have questions, please ask. Joseph and I believe in you, Juni, and we think you’ll go far with Christiansen Wealth Management.”
“Thank you.” I still haven’t fixed the issues surrounding my relationship with Andrew, so why am I even considering this job? With my hand on the knob, I look back. “I haven’t contacted the temp agency yet. I came to you first.”
Laurie stands, pressing her fingertips to the glass-top desk. “I appreciate that.”
“I’ll wait to contact them until after I make my decision.” She nods with a gentle smile. I walk out floating on cloud nine. My day has taken an unexpected turn for the better. Now it’s up to me to decide which way I want to go.
Dark hair at two o’clock has me dropping to the floor. When I hear the voice— deep and sultry, commanding, and sexy—coming closer, I crawl into the nearest cubicle.
“What are you doing down there?” My stomach tightens. Justin’s voice alone makes my skin crawl. And he adds, “Looking for a snack?”
“A snack is all you have to offer,” I snap back.
I start to get up but halt on all fours when I hear Andrew’s assistant ask, “What are you doing, Ms. Jacobs?”
I look over my shoulder, my eyes connecting with Mary first and then Andrew. “Juni?”
Trying to push up, I get caught and sent back to my knees because today, of all days, I had to wear a pencil skirt. I drop my head, humiliation flooding my face, and try again.
Laurie joins in the party. Naturally . “What’s going on?”
Mary says, “Um . . . I think I hear my phone ringing.” I hear the sound of her hightailing it out of here through her quick footsteps. I don’t blame her. I wish I could do the same.
Andrew’s anger consumes the air, and I finally say, “I’m stuck.”
Justin stands, but Andrew demands, “Sit.” As if he’s a dog that’s been punished, he scurries back to his chair.
A pair of black designer Oxfords, Italian by the looks of the leather and stitching, appears before me. I know they’re Andrew’s because there’s nary a scuff in sight. He bends down. “Are you okay?”
I look up, my hair falling over my eyes. Through strands of hair, I see the anger I heard moments earlier now situated as ire in his eyes. He holds his hands out for me. When I slip my hands in his, an unfettered energy travels between us, a spark reaching his eyes.
He carefully helps me to my feet, where I brush the rest of my hair away from my face and straighten my clothes.
I dare to look into Andrew’s eyes, already missing the little gold flecks that have been replaced with embers of fire. He says, “I’d like to see you in my office, Ms. Jacobs ,” and maneuvers around me.
He’s quickly covering the distance to his office, but I say, “I should probably?—”
“Now,” he commands without breaking his pace.
I turn to see Laurie staring at me, a million questions surfacing in her expression. Shame fills me, and I start, “I can explain?—”
“I think I should be present for this meeting.” She returns to her office, and when she comes back out, she walks right past me with a pad and pen in hand.
Once more, I make sure my skirt is straight and in place before I start walking. I’m not sure if this is a walk of shame or I’m a dead man walking, but either way, the entire office is staring at me as I head to my own beheading. The door to the office I’ve been so good about avoiding is wide open.
I can’t say I’m getting welcoming vibes from the inside when I approach, though. Taking a deep breath, I tug at the collar of my shirt and make sure the clasp of my necklace is at the back. I exhale and then walk in.
Andrew is staring at the TV on his wall like it’s going to reveal the secret of life. It’s not, just what the S & P 500 is at for the day. Laurie sits in a chair across the desk from him, leaving me to brave the fifteen feet by myself. I consider detouring to the couch because that looks like a better place to be fired. At least I’d be comfortable.
His eyes hit mine, freezing me to the spot. “I’d like to speak with Ms. Jacobs in private.”
Laurie says, “I don’t think that’s a wise idea. Per company policy, a human resources representative?—”
“I’m okay with it,” I say. There’s a tremble to my voice that I’m not used to anymore. I hate it. I also hate the fear this situation inspires inside me. Tamping it down, I add, “I’ll be fine. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
She looks back and forth between us and then sets her eyes on me again. “It’s for your protection as well.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
Andrew’s eyes finally leave mine, and he says to Laurie, “If you must stay, I’ll allow it.”
“It’s up to both of you.”
“We’re fine,” we both say, the words rushing out at the same time.
Her gaze darts between us several times before she stands up and moves to the door. “Okay, then.”
I’m still standing in the middle of the room like a damn lingerie model when the door clicks closed behind me. When I turn back to Andrew, he says, “I’m going to need you to explain.”
“Can I sit down first?”