3. She didn’t say, “Please choose me.”
3
She didn’t say, “Please choose me.”
Eden
Hit play on the evil genius theme song.
This was my best scheme yet.
My sneakers squeaked on the marble floor as I exited the elevator. Those shoes were the shit, glittery gold designer kicks perfect for scurrying around the offices of Worley and Stone after dark.
But no beady little lawyer eyes would spy my shoes—or me. Every office, every desk was empty, probably abandoned hours ago for Friday night drinks and weekend plans.
I seesawed to a stop.
Or abandoned like a creepy warehouse in those horror movies where the killer was waiting…just around the corner…ready to pounce.
My heart bumped faster.
Was this really my best scheme ever?
I glanced at the brown paper bag clutched in my fist and smiled.
Yeah. Hell yeah.
Delivering Zach his favourite takeout, sharing half an hour, sure, some people might take something so simple for granted. It was a small gesture, but another way of showing Zach I supported him chasing his dreams. We were doing it together…even if some nights I’d never felt more alone. A moment like this was worth pushing past silly phobias. The dark was no match for me.
I squared my shoulders and focused on the city lights.
Proud but adorably humble, Zach had mentioned he’d scored prime real estate in the firm and could look over the whole city from his desk. Those same lights flickered in the sleeping offices at the end of the corridor.
The never-ending corridor.
My eyes darted everywhere. Why was this floor so dark? Who turned out all the lights? A prickle of sweat dribbled down my back. Why was it so hot? My fingers trembled to open another button on the cotton blouse clawing at my skin.
I was never making it out of the building alive.
I plastered myself against a glass wall and sank to the floor.
Takeout, safe. Handbag, open. Phone, already calling for backup via video chat.
Yvette’s grinning face bounced onto the screen. “Deenie!” She slurped a sip of her cocktail, swaying to the music thumping in the background.
I scrunched my eyebrows. “Where are you?”
“El Diablo Cantina. And may I just say tonight’s patronage is above average.” She cackled but suddenly stopped and leant closer to the screen, squinting. “Where the hell are you?”
“Losing my shit at Zach’s work.”
Yvette plonked down her cocktail. “Okay. Okay. I’m the chosen one for once. I can do this.” She shook out her hands and arms before settling into a prayer position. She screwed her eyes shut and hummed. “Follow me. Big breaths.” One eye slitted open. “I don’t hear any big breaths.”
I laughed. “Sorry, but this is too weird.”
“Isn’t this what you do with the grouch?”
“No way. Andie usually says something like, ‘Get over yourself, loser.’” I shrugged. “It works.”
“Tough love, huh? Well, on that note, please tell me your office booty call is the only reason you’re wearing that outfit. Wait! Is that—” Her hand flew over her mouth. She inched it down again only to ask in horror, “Are you wearing a purple cardigan?”
“It’s, um, corporate chic.” I winced. It was ugly. Really ugly.
Yvette’s nose wrinkled. “If you say so.”
“Look, this was the best outfit I could scrounge together at the last minute, okay? I don’t exactly have a row of dull lawyer wear hanging in my closet.”
“And the universe thanks you for having better taste.” Yvette lifted the glass to her lips and muttered, “Usually.”
“It got me in the building and up the elevator.”
Truthfully, the security guard’s dopey smile after I’d sobbed a made-up story about lost paperwork and popped enough buttons to accidentally flash him my bra got me in the elevator. No one needed to hear that version of the story, though. I grinned.
“A smile!” Yvette squealed. “Feeling better now?”
I bobbed my head in a quick nod. “I’m good.”
“I expect a bridesmaid’s dress as payment for my efforts.”
“Deal.” I waved.
Yvette flapped a wave back. “Oh, and Deenie?”
“Yeah?”
“Get over yourself, loser!”
Yvette’s cackle ended the call, and that reminder of my friend picked me up off the floor. I slung my bag over my shoulder and grabbed the takeout. The corridor wasn’t endless anymore. Confident steps powered me past the offices to where only one light still burned.
Hey, stranger.
Zach was scowling at his computer, nibbling on the end of his fancy fountain pen. His jacket was off, the cufflinks I’d bought him on display, and his tie hung loose enough to flick open the top few buttons of his shirt. My heart squeezed. He was so handsome. He had no idea. He walked around oblivious to the eyelashes fluttering in his direction, always too busy inspecting his shoes, never paying much attention to anyone—except me. I smiled.
My footsteps fell in sync with a new echo from the other end of the corridor. Heels. I paused, plastering myself back against the glass, my breaths silent.
Closer…and closer…
A woman sauntered out of the shadows. Her hair was more caramel than blonde, a balayage that desperately needed smoother blending, and she was wearing the typical bland black suit my business clients seemed to prefer. Her shoes had a little more personality, though—designer stilettos with red soles that tapped along the marble floors to Zach’s office.
The woman drummed her knuckles on the glass door. When Zach didn’t look up from whatever he was reading, she nudged the door open.
“Rawles.” She held up a black coffee mug. “Thought you might need this.”
“Oh, uh…” He barely lifted his eyes off the computer. “Thanks, Mac.”
Mac.
This was Mac? I’d imagined some guy in his mid-forties with thinning hair wearing a suit jacket that didn’t quite button up around his middle—not her!
Apprehension dripped down my spine.
This wasn’t right.
Mac slid the coffee mug along the desk, and the grateful smile Zach rewarded her with splintered my heart. I glared down at the takeout bag clutched so tight in my fist I could feel my nails biting into my skin. Spoiling Zach was my job. I deserved that smile instead of the scraps of attention he tossed my way.
Zach turned back to his computer.
I took a step. Only one.
Mac made quite a production of taking off her suit jacket and tossing it over a chair. Her back arched, boobs straining the buttons of her silk blouse, as she stretched with an exaggerated yawn. Zach’s eyes didn’t leave the computer.
I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle a giggle. This woman was ridiculous.
Mac frowned. Recalculating her game plan, she skimmed her fingers along the wood before perching on the edge of the desk. Nothing. She crossed her legs. When he still didn’t look up, she reached over and flipped his laptop shut.
“Hey!” Zach snapped. “What the f—”
“Forget about work tonight,” she said.
“I can’t—”
“If this is about the other night—”
“Don’t.”
“—I promise no crowds this time.”
This time?
My heart pounded louder. The corridor narrowed. The dark hung heavier. My next step faltered.
When were the other times?
Zach sagged in his chair. He watched the woman in his office with a cautious expression, his mouth opening like he was about to say something. He shook his head.
“It’d just be you and me,” she added. “My place. Like before.”
I struggled to force air into my lungs. What did these words mean? Old ghosts clawed too tight, too real, around my throat. I wanted to run, but my feet hovered on air, the world ripped out from under them. Was I watching the end of my relationship in real time? No, I had to be making too much of this. Zach wouldn’t cheat. He wouldn’t .
Teeth buried in my lip, I darted my eyes between the scene in front of me and my phone. I tapped out a message to Zach and hit send.
Eden
Is it a wait-up night?
His phone pinged on the desk.
Please. My eyes begged Zach through the shadows. Please.
He didn’t pick it up.
I swayed, my knees forgetting how to keep me upright. It was a mistake. Yeah. Sometimes, it took a message or two to get his attention. He was busy. My eyes narrowed on the woman crowding his desk. Not busy with her. With work.
The next message was harder. My phone shook, fingers trembling as I fumbled over the screen.
Eden
I want to spoil you xoxo
I hit send.
Another ping.
All eyes in the office snapped to his phone. This time, Zach grabbed it. I didn’t imagine the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Mac saw it, too. Jealousy twisted her features, and she uncoiled her legs like the viper she was and slithered off the desk.
“Got a secret admirer?” She sauntered beside him, trying to peer over his shoulder.
Zach’s chair slid away. “Ignore that.” He shoved his phone across the desk. “It’s no one.”
I sucked in a breath.
No one.
I was swaying again, toppling around on the spot like I was on the ocean, trying—no, failing—to stop my knees buckling.
No one.
I hit the floor.
“Messages at this time of night are usually important,” Mac said.
“It’s literally no one important.” Zach opened his laptop. “No big deal, okay? Don’t even think about it.” He started typing again.
No one.
It was just like the nights all those years ago that I’d spent cowering in a ball on the laundry room tiles. I’d crept through the dark and peeked under the gap of the door, searching for the crack of light, screaming my tiny lungs out.
“Who’s that?” the women’s voices had always whispered.
“No one,” my father had always barked back. “Ignore her. She’ll learn her lesson.”
Sometimes, my father had kicked the door or promised me a damn good hiding if I didn’t quit making so much noise. He’d taught me a long time ago to stop screaming in the dark.
I thought Zach saw me, though. I didn’t think I needed to scream, or send messages, or be hidden away. I was someone now. I blinked at the light shining down the corridor. He didn’t see me. Had he ever?
“Want me to help you relax?” Mac asked.
He only saw her, and she was slithering closer…and closer…
“Zach?”
“Oh, um… Yeah—”
The broken whimper torn from my throat blotted out the rest of Zach’s words. I couldn’t sit there and let my heart get ripped out, too. I jolted to my feet, lurching in the other direction so I didn’t have to see what happened after Mac dug her claws into his shoulders. I scampered down the corridor like a drunk mouse, knocking into the walls, my handbag thumping against my hip until light burst through the suffocating darkness.
The elevators.
I jabbed at the down button over and over. No waiting, just ding, and the doors opened.
I stumbled inside on shaky legs and pounded the lobby button with my fist. Agitated, I paced in the small space, anxious to escape the tiny elevator, the building, the memory of that woman touching the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life loving with all my heart. A lifetime passed. The scene in Zach’s office replayed too many times.
When the elevator stopped, I exploded out, my sneakers squeaking on the shiny floor as I ran through the foyer, my phone out of my bag and pressed to my ear as I fled the building.
“Pick up.” I dodged people walking on the street, the rings bleeping on and on. “Pick up.”
Andie yawned. “Eden?”
My eyes lifted to the sky to whisper a silent thank you . “Andie. Shit—he—I c-can’t—”
“What’s going on?” Andie suddenly sounded wide awake. “Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not—I—”
I jerked to a stop and hunched over. My chest ached, and my breath stuck in my lungs no matter how many times I tried to wheeze in more air. People passing glanced at me with big eyes before skating closer to the edge of the road to keep their distance.
“Eden, you’re scaring me.” Andie was on high alert, her voice edged with worry. “Tell me where the fuck you are. I’m coming.”
“M-Meet—” The stammer in my voice wasn’t me. I needed to pull up my big girl pants. I was strong as shit. A survivor. No man had broken me before, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to set a new record. “Meet me at the apartment.”
And like the best friend she was, Andie replied without even hesitating, “I’m already out the fucking door.”