Chapter 22 Paige
Paige
My phone pings and vibrates, causing me to jump right out of my seat, nearly spilling my cold coffee. It’s been another long day and I’ve been up for twenty hours. It’s well past midnight and I should be in bed, not alone in the dark at the foundation office doing urgent work for tomorrow.
The unexpected sound from my phone, when I’ve been surrounded by an unnerving silence for hours, is a jolt to my system. I’m exhausted—now delirious and spooked by any sound. How I thought working two jobs would be fun is beyond me.
The phone continues to buzz and then another ping indicates an incoming text as the device sails off the desk.
“Dammit.” I snatch it off the carpet, growling at the millionth text of the past day from Bettina’s assistant. “No,” I snap, reading the text. “This woman doesn’t understand no.”
“Sounds like you’re having a rough day, can I help?”
I scream and this time spring from my seat, one hand splayed against my chest and the other outstretched, grasping a stapler as if it’s a gun. Donovan leans against the doorjamb, grinning. He’s wearing tailored navy slacks and a crisp, white button-down, looking like he has every right to be here.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I should be relieved he isn’t an ax murderer, but unease twists in my stomach.
“Are you going to staple me to death with that thing?” He nods to the office tool and I lower my arm, placing it on the desk.
“You scared me,” I huff, pulling my shirt down. “What are you doing here?”
My phone buzzes again and before I can reach for it, he snatches it from the desk, brazenly reading the screen.
“Hey, that’s mine. Give it back.” I glare, grabbing for it but he holds it out of my reach.
“Bettina van der Jagt.” He scrolls through our texts, chuckling and even going so far as to read out loud some of the more obnoxious commands she has fired my way through her assistant. “Let me handle her for you.”
I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours arguing with Bettina over stupid orchids and she doesn’t care that I have final say—she won’t give up. “No. I’ve got this under control.” I clench my teeth at the frustrating truth—I don’t—and given his wry grin, he knows it.
“Come on, I’ll make her understand you’re running the show.” He doesn’t wait for my consent, pulling out his own phone and punching in a few buttons.
I lunge for him but stop mid-stride when Bettina’s voice rings through the room, now on speaker. Incensed, I try to take my phone from him, still in his grasp, but he won’t give it to me. I stand there seething but also reluctantly amazed as she caves within minutes.
I want to scream, laugh, and retch. He didn’t say anything I hadn’t already said and my blood boils at the sinking feeling her acceptance has nothing to do with what I said or how I said it, or even that I’m not of her ilk. It’s because I’m a woman.
Donovan knows it, too. His cocky grin hints at the feeling I just may owe him something for this save. Not in a million years. I’d rather suffocate in orchids than give that man one damn thing.
He ends the call and slips his phone into his pocket before burning me with his superior grin. “You’re welcome.”
Distrust overwhelms me whenever he’s around and contrary to my gut feeling, it’s unfounded.
Apart from being a cheating scumbag, he hasn’t done anything to me.
In fact, any chance he gets he’s helpful even if it’s a bit self-serving and overbearing.
Even still, I can’t ignore the nagging feeling he’s dangerous.
Maybe not in a physical way but dangerous all the same.
Not wanting to be rude, I relent. “Thank you.”
“No problem, anytime.” He leans against the desk, crossing his ankles, and stares at me. “So how’s the game going with Zach?”
“Game?” I tilt my head to the side.
“You two seem to be moving fast. What’s next?” He picks up my water bottle and unscrews the cap, flicking his tongue against the rim in a crude way.
“I’m not following.” I fidget uncomfortably, irritated with his inappropriate flirting, if I can even call it that, and with myself for letting him get to me.
“I was surprised when you went along with his charade but good on him. He obviously saw you for who you are. He’s smart to find someone outside of our circle to go along with this fake girlfriend thing.” He’s amused and it bolsters every word out of his mouth.
The world tilts and I grab onto the desk to steady myself. Taking a big sip of water, he strolls lazily toward me, but it feels threatening. Once at my side, he attempts a smile as his flinty eyes rake over me like hot coals.
“And to be fucking you, too.” His hands fly into the air, further shocking me, like his favorite team just won a game. “Score!”
My stomach bottoms out and ringing fills my ears, or maybe the ringing comes from somewhere else, but I can’t make sense of anything. It’s as if he’s slapped me across the face or worse, ripped the clothes off my back.
I’m bared to him.
And we’re alone. He’s too close, leering at me like he’s the hunter and it’s open season. I’m fair game and the thought is terrifying. My mind is swimming, hazy, and I sway. Donovan’s hand latches onto me and I flinch at his touch.
At the same time, my phone buzzes in his hand and at first I think it’s Bettina again, telling me she’s backing off on the damn orchids. But when Donovan lifts the phone to see the screen, which I’m unable to read, the evil grin that overtakes his face causes my insides to curdle.
“Give it to me,” I say through clenched teeth, and he pulls away, hitting a button on my screen. I inwardly curse myself for taking off my lock screen feature earlier today.
“Hey, what’s up?” Donovan’s voice booms and his smile is wide and naughty as he stares at my phone screen.
“Donovan? Why are you answering Paige’s phone?” Zach’s terse tone rumbles through the speaker and another kind of nausea rolls through me.
I’d texted him not even an hour ago to tell him I was still up and if he had time, I’d love to chat. Fuck.
I can’t talk to him right now, still processing he shared a huge secret, our secret, with his douchebag friend. I had no idea Zach had told anyone about our deal and now I wonder who else knows? Does Walker? Morgan?
Even still, Donovan answering my phone in the wee hours of the morning doesn’t look good. With too many thoughts running through my mind, I don’t realize what Donovan is doing until it’s too late.
He wraps his hand around my shoulders, pulling me into his side in full view of Zach, sitting at a desk halfway around the world. Zach’s strong, dark features turn to stone as his fiery gaze rakes in the both of us.
“Hey, we miss you but don’t worry, I’m taking care of your girl here.” He squeezes the nape of my neck and bile surges like a wave up my throat.
I’m no longer able to tolerate my proximity to Donovan. A man I distrust. A man privy to my arrangement with Zach. A man who has single-handedly tainted every moment I’ve had with Zach by implying I’m a whore.