Chapter Ten
When in doubt, email.
Ruby
Ruby:
I apologize for the behavior of my former assistant. Rest assured I will locate a better one who does not possess an IQ below four.
Where the Valentine activities are concerned, I cannot make any exceptions to their mandatory requirements. You may, however, enlist the help of Will for any tasks that lean more heavily on sight. I know he’ll be happy to assist.
If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to reach out in any manner that is most convenient for you (I am adding my personal phone number to the bottom of this email in case you need it). Should an in-person meeting be required, I am always available for my employees during my lunch hour.
Come “see” (haha) me then anytime.
Sincerely,
William Warrick
Whirlwind Branding CEO
(xxx) xxx-xxxx
I blink as my computer recites Mr. Warrick’s contact info, including what appears to be his personal phone number.
I am in possession of William Warrick’s personal phone number.
I blink again, then I pick up my phone and dial.
“Warrick,” his voice comes through, deep and grumpy and definitely his.
Another blink.
I open my mouth, intending to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Hello?” he asks, irritation lacing his voice.
I clear my throat.
“Sorry!” I squawk. “I- sorry!”
“Ruby?” he asks, gentler.
“I’m so sorry!” I say again. “I didn’t think it would actually be your number!”
A pause, where I consider possibly throwing myself out of my twentieth-story window, then, “Is there something you need?”
I gulp.
Something I needed? There was, right?
“I… I can’t remember,” I answer, mortified. Why did I call the number? There were probably a hundred better options before calling . Like, for instance, not .
Silence greets me, and I twist my chair toward the window, ready and willing.
“Perhaps,” he says slowly, “you can email me when you remember.”
I gulp.
“Email. Yes. Of course, sir. So sorry. I’ll just, um, let you get back to work!” Have I ever been squeakier in my life? I think not.
This is embarrassing.
“Goodbye, Ruby,” he says, then hangs up before I can even open my mouth to respond.
I set my phone on my desk, then bang my head against it.
? ? ?
I’m still banging my head against my desk when Will bursts into my office several minutes later. Uninvited, one must note.
“Rubble- what? Stop that! What are you doing?” he asks, voice approaching at speed, then his hands are on me, pulling me away from the sweet, sweet concussion I’m trying to give myself.
“Stop!” I cry, reaching for my desk – my only hope at forgetting that horrible, terrible, never should have happened phone call. “I need to get amnesia!”
“Amnesia? Ruby, leave the desk alone!” He pulls me up out of my chair and wraps his arms around me, imprisoning me in his arms. “Talk to me. What happened?”
I struggle, but Will’s arms are a lot firmer than I remember, and his hold is solid. Not one to waste energy, I settle, scowling as he pulls me in against him even tighter.
“Your chest is about as comfortable as a brick wall,” I snap, irritated. I only needed a few more minutes! I was this close to never having to remember calling Mr. Warrick and sounding like a total freaking idiot.
“It’s surely a lot more comfortable than the hospital bed you’re trying to put yourself in,” he snaps back. “What’s going on?”
I freeze at his tone – irritated, impatient… worried.
What… do I do with that? Will’s never been mad at me before. He’s never even sort of been mad at me. He’s certainly never snapped at me.
My hands clench, then unclench, just to do it all over again. My breaths come in stilted bursts, and my heart does its very best to beat its way out of my chest.
His hand slides from my waist up to my forehead in a soothing motion, the heat of it marking a trail of fire across my body.
I don’t like it. Not one bit.
“Don’t yell at me.” I flinch when the words come out soft and not at all with the sort of authority I mean to put behind them. Instead of sounding like a strong, sure woman to be obeyed, my voice trembles like a newborn babe’s.
His arm around my waist convulses, and the hand on my face sweeps back into my hair, forcing my face up, toward his.
I sniff.
“Don’t yell at me,” I repeat, stronger.
Warm air brushes my mouth as he sighs, then his nose glides against my own.
“Ruby, tell me what’s wrong,” he murmurs, forehead landing softly on mine. His fingers flex in my hair, massaging my aching head.
In retrospect, there were probably better, less painful ways to induce amnesia.
Hardcore drugs, for instance.
“Ruby,” he half groans, half whines. Whole begs. “Please.”
My nose wrinkles. I wish he wouldn’t do that. It makes my stomach all tingly in a rather unpleasant sort of way.
“I accidentally called Mr. Warrick and now I have to leave the country or lose all memory or, I don’t know, die or something,” I blurt. Then blink. Why did I do that?
“You called Liam?” he asks.
I frown. “I don’t know why I told you that.”
“Why did you call Liam?”
I shake my head, flicking his nose several times in the process. Ugh.
“Can you back up? I can’t think.” Or control basic functions like speaking, apparently.
He pulls me closer, turning the zero centimeters of space between us into negative twelve centimeters of space between us.
Cool.
Yeah.
That’s exactly what I meant.
“Will,” I hiss, fisting his dress shirt at his sides. I clench my hands as hard as I can, hoping the fabric wrinkles.
“What’s wrong with calling Liam? I talk to him all the time. It’s fine.”
I huff.
“And how often does he respond ?”
“What happened on the phone call with him?” he evades, smooth as sandpaper.
“Let me go,” I respond, unfisting my hands so that I can dig my nails into him instead. He grunts, but doesn’t release me.
“I’ll let you go,” he says, hand constricting in my hair, “After you tell me what was so bad on the phone that you thought physically harming yourself was a good idea.”
I clench my jaw, determined not to say anything – not to let him win whatever this is.
“I didn’t know what to say and now Mr. Warrick thinks I’m stupid,” my traitorous mouth tells him, bypassing my brain and loosening my jaw.
My eyes narrow.
I’m washing it out with soap, I decide. The minute Will is gone, it’s getting the finest anti-bacterial Whirlwind Branding can afford.
Will’s face moves away from mine, sparking hope within me. Hope that is short-lived when he immediately uses his hand in my hair to push my head against his chest, and I’m back in uncomfortable hug land as his head lands on top of mine.
“Again, you’re about as comfortable as a brick wall,” I repeat. I twist my neck so that I can rest my cheek against his chest, finding a more acceptable position for my aching head.
He huffs.
“Liam doesn’t think you’re stupid.”
I open my mouth to tell him it’s none of his business, and out pops, “He definitely does.”
Seriously. Soap . Two rounds!
“Liam knows you’re smart. He wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t, and he didn’t just hire you; he promoted you. Over and over again, until you got to a position where you only have two bosses. Because you’re competent and intelligent and capable and that’s the type of people Liam likes to have at the top of his company. You think he lets stupid people handle his finances?” He scoffs. “Don’t insult the man.”
I sniff, then rub my nose on Will’s chest, hoping any potential emotionally charged snot ruins his crisp work shirt. If I can’t get him to let me go, I can at least leave a stain on his two-hundred-dollar shirt. Compromise.
“Yeah, well, he did all that before . Now he knows I’ve bamboozled him and is going to fire me for incompetency any minute.”
Will snorts. “No one’s firing you, least of all Liam. He loves you!”
It’s my turn to snort, “ Loves is a strong way to put it. Tolerates is more like it.”
“Tolerating people is how he shows his love,” Will retorts, a little too much joy in his voice for my liking.
“Stop being happy,” I order.
“Can’t do that, Rubble, Rubble, Toil and Trouble.”
I groan. “No, seriously, stop it.”
“But your voice went from doom and gloom to exasperation and malice, my sweet. It puts a man in a wonderful type of mood,” he sing-songs.
I dig my nails deeper into his sides. He doesn’t so much as grunt.
“Get out of my office,” I command.
He chuckles, squeezing me once before his hand around my waist slides off of me. The hand in my hair brushes through it, probably turning my waves into a huge, frizzy mess, then the warmth of him steps away, and I’m left to stand on my own two feet. I scowl as his body heat leaves me, inciting a full-body shiver.
Does he have to be so annoying? Now I’m going to have to put on my emergency office sweater, which I know for a fact does not match this outfit.
“I’m going,” Will says as one of his fingers lands featherlight on my face. “But before I do, I’d like to reiterate that you are intelligent, capable, and the best employee Liam’s got – and he knows it. You have nothing to worry about. Everyone loves you here, the big man included. Okay?”
I glare at what I hope is his face.
“Okay. Goodbye.”
He laughs, swipes his thumb across my lips, and says, “Goodbye, Rubble.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m left alone.
And cold.
Annoying.