The Probability of Us

Chapter 29

Twenty-Nine

AUGUST CURRENT DAY (FRIDAY)

E ven as a shiver runs through me and goosebumps spring up my bare legs, I can’t wipe the mile-wide smile off my face. My gaze clings to the corner of my desk, and my breath quickens as I remember what occurred there this morning. I let out a deep breath as my eyes flutter closed and my hands rub my bare lower thighs.

Damn him.

Damn that beautiful, perfect man for getting me to wear a dress to work. And without even asking me to.

Ever since he brought up the idea of office sex, the work dresses that had gone long unnoticed in the back of my closet started screaming to be worn. It’s crazy how something that sat like trash in the back of my closet for so long became treasure overnight because the right person was around to admire it.

But the office sex was definitely worth it.

I made up some excuse to get him here early, then locked the door behind us and sealed my lips to his.

I didn’t even care about his smug tone when he whispered, “I thought you said no office sex,” against my neck. Or that I responded, “Only this once,” on a shaky breath that was full of longing for him to pull my dress up faster.

All I remember is how he whispered, “Bossy,” before complying after I’d said, “I can think of many more productive things for your mouth to be doing than sassing me right now.”

I thought if he was heading back to D.C. tomorrow I might as well have some memory to tide me over, but I don’t think I’ll ever work again in this office. I’ll just stare at the corner of the desk where I had perfect, early morning, try-to-keep-quiet sex with my perfect man.

Is this how happy people think?

It’s been a while since I thought anything was perfect, but now everything is perfect because of him. Because I’m with him. Because he’s here. Life is sunny and bright. There’s not a cloud in my mind’s sky.

Or at least there wasn’t, until Jason comes stalking into my office like he owns the damn place and suddenly there’s nothing but storm clouds. He’s not a person I want around on a good day, but the look on his face now terrifies me—especially since he closed the door behind himself.

“Have a nice night?” he spits. He’s a coiled snake ready to strike, and I need to watch where I step.

With a cheery voice and smile I say, “I did, thank you.” But the gears are turning in my head, trying to dissect his words, what they could mean, and what the hell the dark insinuation that lies just beneath the words that’s turning my stomach is.

I stand up and try to subtly shake off the nerves that have been growing the longer he stands there glaring at me. Moving towards my coffee cart as an excuse, I hope to be able to get him out of the office as soon as possible. But the second I step around the table I know it’s the wrong move. Greedy eyes rove over my exposed legs and the feeling I’ve spent years trying to forget and save others from, the feeling that made me put the dresses in the back of my closet in the first place, washes over me. I’m struggling to stay afloat in a stormy sea.

I try to walk towards the door, but he shifts into my path and it’s not until I move to go around him that I realize I’ve played right into his hand. He corrals me away from the door, trapping me in the space between the desk and the blinds I always keep closed because I hate it when people look in the room as they walk by. It’s ironic because right now I’d give anything for someone to walk by and be able to look in. To be able to help.

My eyes dart around the room searching for a way out of this. Trying to figure out a way to get past the man slowly stalking closer to me, caging me in, trapping me, like a damn circus animal.

I take a step closer to the blinds, hoping that if I can find a way to open them, someone will be able to help. He clicks his tongue at the movement and closes the distance between us before I can reach them. His body presses against mine, pushing me into the wall and making it hard to move. I’d rather sink into the wall or melt into a puddle on the floor than have him this close to me.

“Nice dress,” he says, darkly.

A hand lands on my leg just below the hem and my body twists and pulls, trying to get away from him, but his size and strategic positioning keeps me from being able to stop him as his hand slowly inches higher.

“Get your hands off me,” I grit out. My lips shake and tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

His smile only grows with my discomfort. “I’ve grown tired of this cat and mouse game we’re playing. I think it’s about time you pay up for all the teasing you’ve been doing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you’ve been doing.” His hand slides up just under my dress and bile rises to my throat.

“I said, get your hands off me,” I say, louder this time. Hopefully, loud enough to be heard outside. I push off of the wall as much as I can, and his hand leaves my leg to push my shoulders back to the wall—hard. I groan as my shoulders and head hit the wall, but it makes a loud thump that shouldn’t sound normal from the outside. Please, someone hear.

“Tell me,” he says, leaning closer. I try to press my body as flat against the wall as possible, but I can’t get away from him. “Would you fuck me too, if my title was CFO?”

My eyes widen and my jaw drops open. He knows. How the fuck does he know?

But then my teeth clank together. “Have a nice night?” he’d said when he first entered. And at The Dizzy Acorn last night the name JSON for trivia, and the moment I thought I saw a familiar face in the crowd but then they were suddenly gone.

“You were there last night,” I say, not needing to phrase it as a question. I’m such an idiot for not considering that possibility from the start of this all. He could’ve been there any night when we were publicly dancing and kissing.

He sneers. “At least now I know why you’ve turned me down all these years. I wasn’t high enough on the corporate ladder for you.”

He moves in even closer, and I squirm, trying to find any additional distance to put between us. “It doesn’t matter what your title is, I’d never fuck you. The only reason I ever pretended to be interested was to save the other girls in the office from this. If Clara wasn’t your cousin you’d have been fired ages ago.”

“You little fucking whore.” He moves, barricading my upper body with one arm and moving the other back to my thigh, not bothering to move slowly this time.

I cry out, “Stop,” and start kicking the heel of my foot against the wall, trying to make any more noise that I can. He quickly hooks his leg around mine to stop me, and I can no longer do anything to stop this other than cry and yell.

“It’s a good thing Clara is my boss then,” he says as his hand continues to creep up under my dress.

No , is all I can think, all I can say. My eyes close, I can’t watch this happen. I want to be anywhere but here right now. I want to shrivel up and die. I want to burn alive and take him down with me.

I need help, but no one is coming. No one knows I’m in trouble.

“Actually, I’m your boss now,” a voice says from the door and my eyes fly open.

Peter stands there, accompanied by Victoria and my tears come faster now. Tears of relief.

Jason hesitates before finally taking a step back and my limp body drops to the ground. There’s pain from my knees hitting the ground hard, but pain is better than what was just happening. I’m sucking in breath after breath as if I’d just been choking and can finally breathe. Peter creates a path for Victoria to cross the room to check on me without crossing Jason and I focus on her kind smile as she crouches in front of me.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I nod and take her hand to help me up. “How’d you know?” I whisper.

“You have always protected us from him.” She squeezes my hand, and my lips start to quiver. “So, we’ve always made it a point to look out for you too, especially when he wanders in here.”

I close my eyes and nod, a few more silent, grateful tears slip out. “Thank you.”

“No,” she says, and I open my eyes again. Tears fall from her eyes. “Thank you. ”

We both look over as more people show up at the door, but it’s just Mac with a security guard in tow. I just watch as Peter instructs him to detain Jason and remove him from the premises.

“Your personal items will be boxed up and shipped to you,” Peter says. “You will not set foot in this building again or I will have you arrested for trespassing.”

Jason’s mouth looks like it’s moving but I don’t hear anything he says as he’s led out of the room and down the hall. I just shake my head in disbelief.

He’s gone. For good.

I meet Peter’s eyes, and he says softly, “Can we chat for a minute? If you’re not comfortable being alone in here we can go somewhere else, or have someone sit in with us.”

“In here is fine,” I say. But then my eyes stray back to the wall I’d just been pinned against, and I shudder. “Could we keep the door open though?”

His smile is kind, understanding and he nods. “Of course.”

Victoria squeezes my hand one last time before leaving and walks off with Mac. I gesture for Peter to take a seat, but as I take a step to head back behind my desk, I see him. Just out of my original sightline, Warren stands glaring at the door they took Jason out of. His fists shake at his sides and his body is rigid with anger. His eyes are trying to scorch Jason alive.

He’s so mad he doesn’t even notice me standing here. I glance back at Peter who stopped to look at what caught my attention too. I bite my lip, considering, but when Warren takes a step towards the exit door I don’t care if it gives us away.

“Warren,” I say, harshly, as a command to stop.

His head whips over to me and he freezes mid-step. I shake my head, my eyes pleading for him to not go after Jason and do something that will get him in trouble. His breathing deepens and his head looks between me and the door, considering.

“Please,” I add, quieter and some of the tension leaves his body as he looks at me. His eyes look me over, trying to make sure I’m okay. It looks physically painful for him not to come over and make sure I’m not hurt.

I gesture with my head for him to go back to the conference rooms. Trying to convey with my eyes that I’ll come find him as soon as I can. He lets out a deep breath, runs his hand through his hair, then turns around. I let out a sigh of relief.

When I turn around, Peter is watching with raised eyebrows. My cheeks flush and I turn my back to him to head to my seat.

But before I can sit down, he says, “I have never seen Warren get that mad over anything before—hell, I’ve barely seen him get mad at all.” I close my eyes while he still can’t see me. I guess that did give us away after all. “He really loves you.”

My entire body goes cold. Slowly, I turn to face Peter and only find a smile on his face. This wasn’t a surprise to him. I cock my head and my face twists. “You knew?”

His eyes soften. “If it wasn’t obvious enough from how you two act around each other, Mac overheard a particularly interesting conversation at the hotel bar last week.”

I drop into my chair, my body sagging, remembering what conversation that was and my face burning red that she heard that all. It wasn’t our best moment.

“And . . .” Peter continues, and I look up as my stomach drops. Oh, god. What else could they have seen? All of the careless decisions we made this past week come flooding back. “Warren came to talk to me this morning.”

I look down as a small smile forms on my lips. That damn idiot.

“What did he tell you exactly?” I ask, still looking at my lap.

“That you’re considering turning down the job offer because of what happened at Triniti.”

He pauses and I look up slowly.

“Listen,” he adds, “I don’t need to know the details of your personal life, that’s between you and whoever you choose to share it with. And if you don’t want to take the job because you don’t want to move, or you’re simply not interested, that’s fine. That’s your decision to make.”

“But . . .” he continues as I’m just about to respond. “If you’re not going to take the job because you’re with Warren, and you’re worried about how that will play out in the work environment, that’s between you and me.”

My eyes narrow in confusion. Is that not my personal life?

“I don’t care who you spend your time with outside of work, unless it negatively affects the workplace. We’re all adults. As long as we can remain professional at work, I don’t care about anything else.”

The corner of my mouth tugs down into a frown. “Everyone says they don’t care—until they do. In my experience, it’s not an issue, until it is. And by then, it’s too late.”

“Analise,” he sighs and leans forward, placing his hands on his knees. “I respect that you have genuine fears about history repeating itself. But I don’t think I’ll come across talent like yours again, so I’m going to tell you something about my personal life. I’m married.”

“Oh, congratulations,” I say, slowly, closer to a question than a celebratory remark. What does this have to do with this conversation?

He laughs lightly, a smile growing on his face. “To Mac.”

“Oh.” It slips out on a breath as my face smooths out. “You know, I’ve thought a few times these weeks that if you two weren’t together, you’d make a good couple.”

He laughs, sitting back in the seat, and I let a smile creep onto my lips.

“The point is, you don’t have to worry about any repercussions from dating a co-worker, because I did it first.”

Now, I laugh. The weight I felt since the offer lifts—I feel lighter. “So, you’re not one of those hypocritical bosses who’ll punish someone for something they do too?” I tease, because I’ve had too many of those bosses and I already know he’s not one of them from the past two weeks.

But his eyebrows shoot up. There’s an amused smile on his face, and I blanche. What did I just say? He doesn’t know me well enough to understand my humor or that sometimes I can’t stop stupid things from coming out of my mouth.

“Sorry.” My cheeks heat and I look down. “Sometimes I speak before thinking. I know you’re not like that. I actually think you’re a really good boss from what I’ve seen.”

I press my lips together to stop rambling as he laughs. My cheeks get even redder.

“Does that mean you’ll consider the offer?”

I look up and smile at the hopeful expression on his face. I say what I wanted to say when I got the offer—before my worry clouded my excitement. “I think it means I’ll accept.”

He stands and reaches his hand out towards me with a smile. I stand and shake it.

“I’ll have someone send the documents over right away,” he says. “Now, you probably should go make sure Warren didn’t change his mind about going after Jason.”

I cringe. I don’t think he did—especially after I told him not to—but it was only last night that we were joking how the only time he’d kill someone would be if they hurt me. And this definitely qualifies. “Right.”

“Peter,” I say, just before he leaves the room. He looks back at me. “I know Matt is next in line on Jason’s team if you’re trying to promote from within, but whenever we want the work to be done right, we go to Victoria. I had to transfer her to my team because there were certain . . .” What’s the correct term for a boss who withholds promotions because his subordinates won’t go out with him? Jackass. Douchebag. Prick. All of the above. But I go with, “Barriers to promotion on her old team.”

His eyes widen and he nods slowly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

Once he’s gone, I take a few minutes to compose myself and process the day. Thankfully, it’s Friday so I can leave now that it’s lunchtime. I think I’ve had enough drama for one day and I want to celebrate this good news with Warren.

But when I get to the conference room, he’s not there and all of his stuff is gone.

That fucking idiot.

I stop breathing, anger surging through me and seizing my ability to function. I’m going to kill him if he went after Jason.

I’m digging through my purse for my phone when footsteps approach me, but they’re not heavy enough to be his so I ignore it.

“Analise?” A quiet voice that I recognize speaks, and after taking a deep breath, I look up with a smile.

“Hey, Jasmine. What are you still doing here? It’s early Friday.” Most of the office has cleared out by now.

“Mr. Mitchell stopped by my desk earlier and asked if I could give you this when you came looking for him.” She holds out a small, unaddressed envelope.

A note. He left a damn note.

I try to hide my frustration in front of Jasmine, but I don’t think I’m doing a good job. “Thank you, Jasmine. Enjoy your weekend.”

“Thanks.” She smiles. “You too.”

I wait until she’s gone and there’s no one around to open the envelope.

I tilt it into my hand and a hotel key and small piece of paper fall out.

Room 305.

I know what you’re thinking, and no, I didn’t go after him . . . even though I really wanted to.

I let out a long sigh of relief. Thank god.

But if it’s not about that then what is it about?

* * *

I double-check the room number against the note one more time. This is it, room 305. I take a deep breath and scan the room key. There’s a soft click and the light turns green. Slowly, I turn the handle and open the door.

The light from the hallway floods into the room and reflects off the ground. Or rather what’s on the ground. Blue tulips line the entryway and as I step further into the room, I see they cover every surface. My eyes flash around the room, taking in every detail—the trail of flowers leading me down the small corridor past the bathroom and into the open room, the dim lighting, and the flowers scattered atop the bed—and eventually land on Warren.

He’s standing in front of the bed, in the same navy suit he was wearing earlier, but the jacket is now draped over the desk chair and the sleeves of his white button up are rolled up. In his hand are two blue tulips, and he’s looking at me with a smile that has me gravitating towards him even before I’ve consciously told my legs to take me there.

“Looks like Lola’s forgiven you,” I say, with a raised brow that asks: What is all this for?

He laughs, but his face quickly turns serious as he looks me over. “Are you okay?”

I reach out and run my hand down his arm so he can feel that I’m truly here, that I’m okay, because it doesn’t look like he quite believes it yet.

“I’m okay,” I say, softly, letting his arms wrap around me and pull me as close as he can. I breathe his scent in and sigh in relief at the comfort it brings. “They got there before anything happened.”

He goes rigid around me. His voice is rough when he says, “Why are you always so quick to brush things under the rug? None of what happened was okay. Not one second of it, and I’m sure I only know a small fraction of what actually occurred in that room.”

“I know it wasn’t okay.” My voice squeaks, and my vision blurs with pooled tears I don’t want to fall. My body starts to shake as the horrid feeling of being pinned against that wall comes flooding back. I pull myself tighter to Warren. “I’m not okay, but I will break if I keep thinking about it. If I let myself become a victim, he wins, and I won’t let him leave any legacy behind. I will be okay, in time, but not by giving him power over me.”

It might not make sense to most people, but I have my own ways of dealing with bad things. Warren leaving, my mom dying, my dad drinking, and now this. I’ll survive—I always do.

Warren pulls back and looks at me, a frown on his face. “I will let you do this your way, for now, because I know how strong you are. But say the word, and we’ll get you an appointment with my therapist.”

I narrow my eyes back at him. “Your therapist is in D.C.”

“That brings me to my next point.” A smile grows on his face—a smile that melts my heart and makes me glow from the inside. “I made the biggest mistake of my life six years ago when I left you, and I don’t want to make the same mistake again. Analise, you are my everything. Now that I have you in my arms again, I never want to live another day without you, without your love, without your touch. If you’re not comfortable taking the job, then I’ll quit and move back here. I don’t care what city we end up in, I just want to be where you are.”

My eyes widen—he loves that job, he loves that city.

“I love you, Analise. I never stopped loving you. It’s like you said, there are thousands of jobs, but there’s only one you. You are all I need to be happy in this life. I want to be wherever you are.” He drops to both knees in front of me, holding the two tulips and now, my two hands. What is he doing? “Before you call me crazy, I’m not proposing.” My heart drops slightly. “I don’t even have the ring with me, and I think it’s only fair that I earn your full trust back before actually asking you to marry me. What I am asking is for you to stay with me forever, by my side—not states away. I’m asking you what you want so we can make a decision, together, this time. A few days ago you asked me what the probability of this working was, and I didn’t have time to answer. But to me, the probability of us isn’t a probability at all—it’s a certainty. It was always meant to be you and me.”

I was wrong last week, because he loves me more.

“Warren.” I gently tug his hands until he finally stands again. I put my hands on his cheeks and kiss him. Then I pull back just enough to be able to look in his eyes as I say, “I accepted the job—in D.C.”

“What?” His eyes light up and his smile grows brighter and brighter until it is blinding, and his shine is all I can see. It’s all I can feel. “When?”

“Earlier, when Peter and I talked.” I smile. “Apparently, someone told him about us this morning.”

He smiles sheepishly at my raised eyebrow. “I didn’t want this to be a secret—whether you accepted or not—and I would’ve needed a reason eventually regarding why I was asking to work from Hartford so often.”

I laugh, but then my expression softens. “Thank you, for not letting me make the mistake this time.”

“We have plenty of time to make many more mistakes,” he whispers, leaning in until our lips are just touching.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I say, then press my lips to his.