Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Kaitlyn
I swear the statue is watching me.
That sometimes its body shifts just a little bit.
Its smirk deepens or its eye twitches whenever I make a mistake while typing while its wings quiver in silent laughter.
The light will catch upon its face just right, causing a flash of something almost like intelligence, to shine in its eyes.
I swear it even growled when Thomas dropped off some documents for Josh to look over later.
That was when I decided I had had enough.
Carefully, I had moved the statue to the furthest corner of my desk, doing my best to keep the smallest amount of contact with it as possible, not wanting to get stabbed by its wings again. Wings that had cut my finger with its claw when I had found myself absently stroking them only an hour ago.
And now?
Now I swear it somehow got even bigger, its details more defined than when I first saw it.
Focusing on the schedule in front of me while ignoring the rumbling sound coming from the far corner of my desk, I mutter to myself.
I was right, there weren't any meetings scheduled for today, let alone one with a mysterious Miss Cavanagh. So that means… what? That she just walked in while I was getting Josh his lunch? And the diner just happened to give me extra? Coincidence? No, I don’t think so.
But then that means he ordered all that food and I’m a fool for not realizing why.
I sit at my computer in silence, embarrassed as I think about it.
Embarrassed at the way he treated me. At how quickly he had come, even for him. How he was distracted the entire time, only realizing now that his reflection in the picture had shown him staring at the statue the entire time he was inside me.
"Five more minutes..."
Only now do I realize what he had meant. Five more minutes until she was to show up. Five more minutes to get rid of me, so he could clean up in preparation for her arrival. Five more minutes...
Plus the time it took me to get the food and return...
“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any tackier,” a nasally voice pulls my attention from my spiraling thoughts, “Taking up dumpster diving during your lunch break? Or are you not only color blind but fashion blind as well?”
What in the hell is she talking about? For a moment I just listen to her yammer on about my lack of office feng shui skills, wondering if she even needs to breathe as the words just keep coming and coming.
Like seriously, is she part fish? Though I guess that would be a good skill to have when deep throating someone…
What the fuck? Why did my thoughts go there? Blinking a few times, I lean back in my chair, trying to clear the fog threatening to cloud my mind again.
“Well?” Janine finally pauses, waiting for me to respond–to what I haven’t a clue–as she motions towards my desk.
I look about the desktop, still wondering what her rant was even about, but there was nothing. Shrugging my shoulders, I return my attention back to my computer screen, “Well what?”
“That hideous statue,” she hisses, glaring at the figure, “What the fuck possessed you to buy such a thing? Does Josh know about it? I mean, seriously, what will clients say when they come in? It’s so vulgar.”
Brow raised, I look at Sentinel, wondering what is she talking about? As far as I can tell there isn’t anything… indecent about it. Nothing that should offend any of our clients.
Shrugging, I continue to ignore the statue in question, “Not my statue, not my problem.”
“Not my…” she trails off, her eyes glancing at the office door, finally connecting the dots.
Huh, so she does have a brain. “The statue is a gift from Miss Cavanaugh, so of course he knows all about it.”
As soon as I mention Miss Cavanaugh all color drains from her face, realizing that there is a chance, slight as it may be, that Josh had overheard her ranting. Especially with the way her voice tends to carry.
With nothing to say, I continue working on the next invoice in front of me, hoping she gets the hint to leave. But she must be dense because she just stands there, chewing on her bottom lip while watching the door.
When nothing happens she lets out a breath, redirecting her attention back to me. “My mistake. I thought it was some knock off, when it's obviously an Anton Boudiere original. Which I would have noticed right away if you had it displayed properly.”
I’m pretty sure there’s no artist named Anton Boudiere, but then again, what do I know?
“In fact, I’m sure I saw it at the last exhibit I attended, with Simon and Schulster's representatives,” she nods as she continues, her confidence growing with every word that spews from her mouth.
“And there were definitely some very *fine* pieces of art there,” smirking, she gives an over exaggerated wink.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I mutter, trying very hard to ignore her, focusing on the paper. Only glancing at the monitor every few words to make sure I don’t make any errors.
A sharp pain causes me to hesitate, my stomach protesting at the lack of food, since I was too distracted to eat my own lunch during what little break I had. With Jerrie's Diner being almost half an hour away... it didn't leave a lot of time for my own meal, when Josh decides to not include me.
Thinking about it, ever since he got Vixen, he’s changed.
Our luncheon dates to the corner cafe, for a coffee and a quick bite, have become far and few in between.
What time we spend together is rushed, those moments more about him getting off as fast as he can than about any sort of intimacy between us.
Instead he's quick to push me out of the office, giving me some errand to run. Keeping me too busy to think about it.
If I did question it? He would just mutter something about how he's under a lot of stress, thanks to the extra workload his father gave him.
Which, I guess makes sense, since we've reached the halfway mark of the engagement contract.
The point where his father is preparing him to take over the company so he can finally retire.
The tiny clock at the bottom of the screen mocks me, having skipped ahead almost half an hour without me noticing. And still Janine is just standing there, going on and on about her latest date. As if we're friends or something and I actually care...
As she gets to what I assume is the interesting part of her story, she begins to sit on the corner of my desk, getting comfortable as her voice drops, preparing to dish out all the gossip.
I'm not sure why, since I actively try to stay away from the rumor mill and she knows this.
As she leans closer, her thigh brushes against the statue. The movement causes my eye to twitch as I force myself to stare at the screen.
Who cares if she knocks it over? It’s not like it belongs to me or anything… Taking a deep breath, I hold it for several seconds before slowly letting it out. Clenching and unclenching my hands a few times, to stretch out each finger. Sure, keep telling yourself that.
Janine’s thigh continues to press against the statue as she slides further onto my desktop, causing it to wobble as she pushes it closer to the edge.
Doesn't she notice? Doesn't she care? If it falls... My breath catches in my throat as a sudden pain stabs me in the chest.
Unable to keep myself distracted anymore, I look over at it.
A vision of Sentinel fills my mind. One where it lays shattered in a thousand pieces--don't ask me how since it's made of metal--all over the floor. The vision creating an overwhelming sense of fear, quickly morphing into sadness, before turning into what I can only describe as mind blinding rage.
Noticing where my attention has wandered, Janine smiles, reaching for Sentinel. "Now that I can properly see it, I have to agree," her voice is soft, almost reverent, as if she's caught in a trance, "It really is a beautiful piece of art.
The detail put into every feather… Why, one would almost swear they were crafted piece by piece.
” Tiny shivers run down my spine as her nude, French tipped nails create a soft chiming sound with each stroke.
Slowly, running her finger over each delicate feather, from wing curve down to the very tip.
How dare she touch that which doesn’t belong to her… My inner voice snarls, a feeling of protectiveness taking over all rational thought.
Before I even know what I'm doing, I snatch the statue out of her hands.
Fingers curling protectively around it, keeping it out of view and away from her.
"Is there something I can help you with?
" I glance at the clock on the wall, redirecting her attention to it, "Because there's only a few hours left before the day is over and I still have all these documents to finish typing up. "
“Oh, umm… I was just thinking maybe I should take the statue to my desk, where every client will see it when they come in for their appointments.” Finally she slides off my desktop, giving me a little bit of much needed space.
“Honestly it’s a shame to keep it back here, unappreciated, where the only one looking at it will be just you.
But... if it's at my desk? Everyone in the office will see it, not just the clients that come to see Mr Blackwood. ''
Metal warms under my hands as my fingers curl even tighter around Sentinel. The mere thought of giving it away sending another ache through my chest.
I want to scream out 'no, you can’t have it. It’s mine.' but I don't.
Thankfully my tongue stays still as the thought of 'what the fuck is wrong with me?' soon follows after, because seriously? Since when do I become possessive over inanimate metal things? I’m not some dragon hoarding treasure, especially when it doesn’t belong to me.
Nor some creepy little naked dude coveting a magical artifact.
One finger after another, I force myself to let go of Sentinel, the burning ache of loss taking over, but I push through it. To force my hands to place it back on the desktop.
Afterall, it’s not mine. Ms Cavanaugh gave it to Josh, to bring him good fortune or some bullshit mumbo jumbo. But Josh is your fiancé... doesn’t that make it yours too?
The lack of a ring should prove otherwise but still, the thought does make the pain ease up a little bit. Enough to allow me to take a few deep breaths and re-center my thoughts.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. Mr Blackwood gave strict orders to keep it here. Though I’ll be sure to forward the suggestion when I see him.”
Somehow my voice remains neutral, never betraying the struggle going on inside as I suppress the urge to gouge out her eyes for even daring to look at Sentinel.
Instead, I let out a long sigh, the pressure of this minor squabble leaving me feeling drained as I focus on my work, silently dismissing Janine.
Thankfully she takes the hint, huffing out a deep breath, before pushing away from my desk.
With a sharp turn on her three inch heels, she finally leaves my space, every step sharply puncturing the silence like a gunshot sounding out.
A declaration that while I may have won this little dispute, the war isn’t over.