Chapter 12
Daniel
It felt like the world crashed down on me when I realized what was happening. She looked a little nervous when I caught her using my restroom, and then she looked scared when I took her hand, and now she was having a panic attack after I put my hands on her shoulders.
It’s me. I’m making it worse. I’m doing this to her.
I wanted to hold her and comfort her. Instead, I took two big steps back.
“Lydia, breathe. Please.”
She looked at me, her eyes boring into mine, and frowned, like she was trying to concentrate. Her shoulders and chest moved up slowly, forcing a slow inhale and exhale. She didn’t blink—just breathed in and out for a few seconds, until her usual calm demeanor came back.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was back to normal.
“It’s okay. You scared me.” I wanted to take her hand again, but I couldn’t. Not now.
Not ever. I can’t hurt her.
“Can I drive you home?”
She nodded.
I grabbed a file I needed from my desk, and she took her bag from hers. We didn’t exchange a word walking out of the office, in the elevator, or in the parking lot.
When we were both in my car, I decided to break the silence. “Are you ok?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I scared you. I think I panicked.”
“Do you get panic attacks?”
“No. I mean… no.”
“Why were you still at the office?”
“I don’t usually lose track of time. I guess there was just so much to go through. I don’t know.”
“It’s the quiet. It happens to me a lot.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you’re working on something and everything is so quiet, it’s easy to lose track of time. No interruptions. Chris and I weren’t there, and Dianne leaves at four so you were alone.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“It’ll happen often since Dianne leaves an hour before you do. Maybe set an alarm,” I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
She looked at me and smiled politely.
“What got you so focused?”
“The deal with Ethan Howard. I read everything that Chris sent and then I looked him up and fell down a rabbit hole of information about him, his companies, the company he wants to buy… you know.”
“You researched them? You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t have any other tasks.”
I stopped in front of her building.
“Good night, Mr. Mason.”
“Good night, Lydia.”
I drove home, frustrated. Parked in the building’s lot, I leaned back in the car to text the only person I could think of.
?? Up for drinks?
?? Sure. I’ll be at Mel’s in 20
I could always count on Jake.
Despite my better judgment, I opened my chat history with Lydia.
?? Hey
What am I doing?!
I could see that she was typing, then she wasn’t, then she was.
?? Is everything okay, Mr. Mason?
Always so professional.
?? Yeah, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I caused your panic attack, didn’t I?
Again, typing, not typing, typing... I was making her nervous again, and I was miles away.
?? Yes. And also, no. I was already a little out of it.
I felt like someone punched me hard in the stomach. I expected her to deny it—that’s what a calm and polite person like her would do, right? No, Lydia was straightforward. That’s why I liked her.
?? Then I apologize for making it worse. You will never be unsafe around me.
What. The. Fuck. Am. I. Doing?
?? And feel free to use the restroom in my office when I’m not there. Dianne and Chris do too. I should have mentioned it
?? Thank you, Mr. Mason.
As usual, every message from her was professional, cold, and perfectly punctuated.
I could hear her voice when I read the messages—they were exactly the way she spoke.
I wanted to talk to her more. I wanted to learn about her past, ask her how she cut herself, and find out why she was out of it when I came into the office.
I wanted to be able to hold her hand and take care of her injury without scaring her, or put my hands on her shoulders to calm her down when she was panicking, instead of being the reason for her fear.
I was used to all kinds of reactions to the way I looked.
Outright lust was mostly from women in my family’s circles or just random people in bars and clubs, just like any other guy.
Shyness happened a lot, flirting sometimes, but fear was rare.
People only ever feared me when I gave them a reason to—never an employee who worked for me.
Did she respond just to me that way, to all men, or to anyone she was alone with?
I walked into Mel’s, our go-to place for drinks. Jake was already waiting at one of the tables with two beers.
“So,” Jake took a big gulp. “Is it a girl or work shit?”
“Both. I just needed a drink.”
“You’ve got better booze at home for that. What’s up?”
“I think someone’s targeting my company. Or using it as a scapegoat.”
Jake’s eyes widened. “Shit. Competitor?”
“Don’t know, but it’s not a civilian issue.”
“Hmm, can’t talk about it here, then,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
“Yeah.”
“So while we finish our beers, tell me about the girl.”
“She works for me. Fucking gorgous, interesting, smart.”
“Not into you?”
“Terrified of me. Or maybe everyone. I don’t know. Definitely not into me.”
“Better get to your place and drink the good stuff then.”