Chapter 3 #2
I slip through the line of people and shoulder my way through the door before joining the crowd waiting by the curb.
The moment the light changes, everyone rushes forward, but the notoriously short light changes again before I’m halfway across.
Jogging the rest of the way, I glance down and confirm the drinks are still firmly upright before entering the building through the large revolving glass door.
I smile in greeting as I meet Carlos Lopez’s eyes across the foyer.
“Good morning, Ms. Tripp. How was your commute?” he asks as I approach the security checkpoint in front of the elevators.
“It’ll be better once you lighten my load. Take the two coffees for you and Mr. Collins, please,” I respond.
When I lift and angle both carriers so the two mentioned drinks are closest to him, he reaches for the handles, but I lift a brow and dare him to take them.
He chuckles and shakes his head as he carefully wiggles the coffees out of their spots before stepping back.
“Well hell, I thought today was the day he was gonna get all them drinks away from you. We got a rolling bet, you see, and eventually I’m gonna win,” Mr. Collins calls as he crosses toward us from the far side of the lobby.
His good old boy country twang sounds out of place after the voices on the street, but I scoff and roll my eyes before I welcome him with a smile.
“Nope, not today. If I ever need help, I’ll ask,” I say.
“Yeah, sorry, buddy, but only an idiot ignores warnings like the one Ms. Tripp just gave me. No means no, no matter how the message is communicated,” Carlos says.
“True that. Thanks for the cup o’ joe, Ms. Tripp,” Mr. Collins says as he takes his beverage from Carlos and continues his rounds.
“You still haven’t told anyone about the time I kicked you in the shin for helping me even though I declined?” I tease my friend.
He chuckles, shakes his head, and dons an innocent mask. The expression looks ridiculous on his masculine features.
“Why would I? It never happened,” he quips.
“I knew I should have kept the security footage. Men are pigs,” I grumble, mostly in jest.
He shrugs and hides his smirk behind his coffee mug.
“Alright, my glorified mall cop friend, swipe my badge,” I demand with the haughtiest tilt of my chin and shrug of my shoulder.
He scoffs and lifts a brow, but the lack of insult in his eyes assures me my jab didn’t upset him. He pinches my work ID between his forefinger and thumb. With my lanyard wrapped around my forearm, the retractable cord hisses as he pulls it toward the scanner.
The machine beeps and flashes green. Carlos prevents the cord from snapping back by shifting my badge closer to my arm before releasing it. The little metal panels swing apart, and I step through to the other side. Carlos follows and presses the up button for me without a word.
I step into the elevator, scan my ID, and press the top floor before turning to face him.
“Thank you, Mr. Lopez. See you at lunch?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“I came in early, so I’ll be off before then,” he says.
“Ah. Tomorrow morning, then,” I respond.
He gives a lazy salute as the doors close.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it until after I set everything onto my desk and drop into my chair.
Already my feet throb and pain pulses in my head, but I find the coffee with my name on it and take a drink. It scalds my tongue and burns all the way to my stomach, but the sugar and caffeine revive me.
I enjoy a few more punishing gulps of coffee before checking my phone.
My mother’s transport made it to the halfway point. The report shows her vitals are stable and stress levels seem normal.
Other notifications pop onto my screen in quick succession. I check the time and sigh even though I expect the influx of messages as the business world stirs.
The morning continues its normal routine. I spend more time on my feet than at my desk, but with just as much sugar in my veins as caffeine, I don’t mind the activity.
When the interim CEO, Edgar Williams, finally strides off the elevator an hour and a half after the workday began, I grab his printed itinerary from my desk—but not his coffee since it’s room temperature now—and greet him at the double doors to the CEO’s corner office.
I stand my ground with my shoulders back despite the fear curdling my insides as he stomps toward me.
He smiles and purposefully brushes my hand as he takes the papers from me. I grit my teeth and note his happier-than-normal attitude.
With barely a glance at the itinerary, he nods and meets my eyes.
“I like this formatting a lot better than the last one,” he says.
I swallow my annoyance. He’s the only boss I’ve had in the last eight years who’s demanded a daily printed schedule, but I comfort myself with the knowledge he’s only holding the CEO position temporarily.
“Where’s my coffee?” he asks.
“I’ll make a fresh cup,” I say.
Without warning, he reaches out and adjusts my collar. Terror roots me to the spot. My heart stalls before galloping out of control. Ice travels down my spine. I curl my fingers around my tablet and breathe through my nose so I don’t vomit as he skims his fingers along my throat.
“Use the machine in my office,” he says.
His suggestive tone curdles my insides. I launch into our morning tasks, hoping to ruin his mood and bury the moment under work.
“Of course, sir. I placed the paperwork that requires your signatures in the center of your desk and the new requests from the department heads on the corner, as you instructed.”
When he grimaces and drops his hand, I hide my relief behind my professional mask and prop the door to his office open as I follow him inside.
He tosses his briefcase onto the couch and settles at the ostentatious desk—that I cleaned and organized after he left it a complete disaster Friday evening—before wiggling the computer mouse.
The monitor wakes and reveals his lock screen.
I ignore his scowl and start the single-cup coffee maker.
“Aren’t you supposed to sort through the weekend emails in my inbox before I arrive?” he grumbles.
“Yes, sir. I starred all the important messages, deleted the unimportant ones, and reported the spam.” Two hours ago, I tack on silently.
In business mode, CEO Williams forgets I’m a human being as he shirks most of his responsibilities onto my shoulders.
I don’t mind the arrangement, since he’s holding the position temporarily and keeps our focus on company matters.
Throughout the rest of the morning, he never lifts his butt from the office chair.
I keep the desk between us and the door open.
Thirty minutes before lunch break, the phone on my desk rings. I answer and coordinate lunch plans between CEO Williams and the Director of the Board with his executive assistant.
Interim CEO Williams leaves with an extra bounce in his step.
I tidy and prep his workspace for the busy afternoon before resetting my desk and eating a quick bite in the break room.
Ever since I started working on the executive floor and received a company card, I’ve kept the kitchen stocked with quick and easy meals and snacks.
The city may never sleep, but when I’m the only worker in the office, the last thing I want is to order delivery and bother the security guards downstairs, and the previous CEO approved of the purchases, so I continue restocking even though leadership changed.
I check my messages as I eat and confirm my mother’s transport arrived at her new facility.
Finished with my meal, I toss my plasticware in the trash and chat with a few coworkers before returning to my desk.
CEO Williams returns in a terrible mood. The scowl on his face as he stomps down the hall triggers multiple warning flags in my head. Adrenaline floods my veins, and my senses heighten.
He gestures for me to follow him into his office, so I grab my work tablet and scramble through the double doors.
“Prepare the conference room for a meeting,” he demands.
I flinch as he slams a stack of folders on his desk. Without warning, he begins stripping out of his suit coat. I yearn to dart out of the room, but don’t dare move for fear of turning his ire on me.
“I want it ready in five minutes,” he sneers.
As he throws his jacket and tie onto the couch and unbuttons the first few buttons on his shirt, I leave and shut the door firmly behind me.
Without missing a beat despite the ice lingering in my bones, I head straight to the executive conference room and power on all the lights and devices, then recruit the young woman interning with the COO’s secretary to make coffees and heat the kettle for tea.
When she asks me how many, I tell her to just keep making them until the conference doors close behind the last arrival.
With no direction on what might be needed—I don’t have a reason for the meeting or a list of attendees—I prepare each seat at the table with two pens, a pencil, a large and small notepad, and a chilled bottle of water.
After adjusting the blinds and adding chairs along the walls for potential assistants, I grab the basket of basic office supplies from the cabinet and set it near the edge of the table before pulling out items and strategically placing them in the center so everyone has access.
I turn to take the basket off the table and bump into a masculine body.
Time splinters. Even as I recognize CEO Williams, my mind transports me back to my stepfather’s attack.
Red tie. Black suit. White shirt.
I freeze.
Edgar Williams leans closer. I claw my way free of my fear and force air into my lungs.
I’m not a terrified fifteen-year-old girl anymore. This man will not touch me.
But I need this job so I can support my mom. I’ll never be able to find employment with such great benefits and pay if I lose this position. Kneeing my CEO in the family jewels and following through with a throat punch isn’t the wisest option.
The edge of the table digs into my butt as I avoid his touch. He flattens his hands on the table on either side of my hips. I lean further away and nudge a pen with my hand.
Not heavy enough. I blindly reach behind me and close my fist around the nearest stapler as Mr. Williams opens his mouth.
“You finished quicker than I thought you would. How about—”
A man clears his throat from the doorway. The hair on my nape rises.
Mr. Williams pops upright and adjusts his tie. I release the stapler despite wanting to jam it into his temple, and I rise.
All the blood drains from my head as I meet sky-blue eyes.
Brennan Diamond, my ex-stepbrother and the man I vowed to avoid for the rest of my life, stands in the doorway with cold fury shining from his handsome face.
Dread threatens to consume me.