Chapter 8 Brielle
Brielle
I walk into the office on Monday with my head held high, acting like I don’t have a care in the world.
Looking for a sugar daddy? Phh.
And he thinks if I were, that I would choose him, of all people?
Sure, he’s attractive, with those dark eyes and long lashes, the flawless olive skin, and sexy, dark stubble.
But he can take his bad attitude and misdirected frustration and shove it.
He has no idea how close he came to losing that account.
If Pam were against us, there was no way in the world that Leon would overrule her.
He’s still smitten with his wife after all these years, and more than that, he trusts her judgment.
We were in a sinking ship, and I righted us, whether he wants to believe it or not.
I glance at his glass-walled office as I walk by.
His heavy wooden door is closed, and like usual, the blinds are drawn, but the slats are open.
Through the slight peeks into his office, I see him at his desk already.
His dark hair is so perfectly in place, I find myself wanting to go in there just to ruffle it up.
He glances up, and I quickly look away, making my way down the running hallway to the accounting office.
I’m the first one in, so I set myself up and start to play some music on my phone, figuring I have at least fifteen minutes before Rui or Erica show up.
They both get in for exactly 9:00 a.m., I’ve noticed, but I like to get an early start.
Not because I just love staring at my computer screen, but walking to work can sometimes mean detours or hazards slowing things down, especially in the winter.
I’ve barely got the computer applications open to pick up where I left off on Friday when I hear him.
“What in God’s name is that noise?” He doesn’t yell, but his voice is firm and authoritative. I listen intently for a second, trying to see if I can hear anything either.
I shut my music off, straining my head toward the door.
“Thank you,” he grits out.
Oh, hell no. He can’t be talking about my music.
First of all, it’s classic rock. Who doesn’t love classic rock?
And second of all, it was barely above a whisper. Does he have the offices bugged or something?
I test the theory and put the music back on. At this point, a few more people have shown up in the office, but it’s still pretty empty. Which means that conversation is at a minimum compared to what it’s like once everyone is in.
Stomping echoes down the hallway, slow, steady steps making an ominous thud with each one.
He stops at my office and glares inside. His nostrils flare, his dark eyes on me making my heart beat faster. And not because I’m afraid of him.
“Mr. Edgerton, um, hi. Good morning,” Erica says, pressing her back to the doorframe as tightly as possible to slip into the office without so much as grazing him. Her eyes snap to mine with fear.
“Morning, Erica,” I say brightly.
“Morning, Bri.” She stumbles up to her desk and quickly gets herself situated.
“The music,” Damian demands. His arms are crossed over his chest, his impeccably tailored suit stretched tight across him.
“It’s Boston,” I say, then add just in case he misunderstood, “The band.”
“I know who it is. Shut if off, or put in earbuds. Not everyone likes the same music, and it’s considerate to think of others before you foist your agenda on them.”
My eyes narrow as Erica’s gaze ping-pongs between us. I want to reply with something snarky, and if it were just the two of us here, I would. But with Erica here now, I don’t want to rock the boat… or make it seem like I’m too comfortable with him.
“Yes, sir.” I send him an obviously fake smile and pause the track I was listening to.
He spins around, nearly running into Rui.
“You’re late.”
I glance down at my computer to see 9:03 a.m.
Seriously?
“Don’t let it happen again.”
“Sorry, Mr. Edgerton. I won’t,” Rui says.
Damian walks away, Rui tracking him until he is officially out of sight.
“Just another day working for Satan,” he says, shaking his head.
“Yeah, that’s my fault. Sorry about that.”
“No way. Don’t even worry about it. He’s just like that,” Rui says.
Well… in this case, I’m pretty sure I had something to do with it. I know I haven’t stopped thinking about our dinner since we parted. It’s possible the same thing is going through his mind.
How in the world we are supposed to spend days together in a confined space and not bite each other’s heads off is a mystery.
“He could hear my music. Apparently, it bothered him.” I shrug.
“You should have seen the standoff when I came in. It was intense,” Erica says. “Watch out, new girl. We don’t call him Satan for nothing. That man has no qualms about firing people. You don’t want to be next.”
She’s right. I need to stay professional and distant. It wouldn’t do me any good for Rui or Erica to get suspicious that there was something more between Damian and me.
“Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”
The day moves on from our tense encounter, and I find myself going through the motions, reconciling balances and approving adjustments.
Despite the fact that it isn’t my dream job, it’s actually a pretty cool place.
Last week, Rui showed me the pod room, where people can chill out, either on break or with their computer.
The kitchen is always fully stocked with everything the employees need.
Even the bathroom is stocked with free feminine products.
It’s only a small thing, but I’ve never seen that before.
The teams all work together, bouncing between each other’s offices to discuss ideas or just chat. It’s mostly the research and marketing employees, but since the research team office is right in front of the accounting office, I get to see it all.
I smile at one of the researchers, Devin, as he walks by, but all I receive back is a glare.
Everyone has been super welcoming so far… except for him.
“I think Devin hates me,” I say out loud to no one in particular.
“Don’t be dramatic. He can’t hate you. You’ve been here for a week,” Erica says.
“Okay,” I mumble under my breath. I have no idea what I could have done to him in a week, but I know what I see—and that’s Devin giving me the stink eye every time he walks past.
The rest of the week flies by in a blur.
The days are long, and the evenings are cold, especially in the winter when the sun sets way too early.
I refresh the weather report on my computer again and groan.
Snow is scheduled to start at 5:00 p.m., getting progressively heavier through the six o’clock hour.
Great. Just when I’ll be walking home. And on the day that I forgot to bring a change of shoes to work. These heels aren’t bad when I’m sitting behind a desk all day, but trekking home through the dirty snow in them is going to be a nightmare.
If Holly was home, I’d ask her for a ride, but Friday evenings, she and her colleagues from the courthouse get together for happy hour. She’d ditch them to pick me up if I asked, but I wouldn’t do that to her. She skipped last week because Jordan was in town, and I know she enjoys it.
I close out of the browser. Nothing I can do about it now. If it’s really bad, I can always call an Uber. I just hate to pay money to go the short distance from the Financial District to my apartment.
Rui clears his throat, and when he speaks, it sounds like he is trying to come across more casual than he actually feels.
“Erica, I need you to take the Milcom Brewing Company financial report down to Mr. Edgerton’s office. It needs his signature before I can update the records.” He holds out a paperclipped packet with a sticky note on the front that says “Satan’s signoff.”
She pops her brow, accompanied by a pointed glare. “Nice try. No way.”
Rui’s shoulders sink. His face looks desperate. “Please. You just need to ask him to sign it.”
“You should probably take the sticky note off, no?” I suggest.
His eyes widen when he sees the note is still on the packet. He balls it up quickly and tosses it in the trash. “Thanks,” he mouths.
“Not happening, boss. That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” Erica says, shooting finger guns at him.
I listen to their exchange for a few minutes. Rui tries to negotiate with Erica to bring the paperwork to Damian in exchange for everything from extended lunch breaks to dry-cleaning pickup.
“I can bring it down to him,” I offer.
Both heads turn to me like they forgot I was here. Rui’s eyes brighten for a fraction of a second before Erica speaks up.
“Don’t you dare.” She points to Rui. I love how comfortable they are with each other. Rui is her direct supervisor, but neither of them acts like it. She turns back to me. “Satan’s been in a mood all week. He made Tina cry earlier. You don’t want to get on his radar right now. Trust me.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the offer, Bri. But I’ll do it,” Rui says. He lets out a bone-weary sigh and drops his head in defeat.
I grab the packet from his hand. It isn’t like Damian is going to fire someone just for asking for a signature. I don’t think.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to,” he says, but I can see the relief on his face, hear it in his voice.
“I’ve got it.” I pull my lips into a smile.
Nerves flutter in my belly as I head over to Damian’s office.
We haven’t talked about the dinner last weekend, or the upcoming retreat, since we parted on Saturday.
The expression on his face when he felt like the conversation with Leon was going well, that one little wink, floats through my mind.
But then it is quickly replaced with the look of contempt he leveled my way in his car on the way home, and my nerves ratchet up another notch.
Before I get to his closed door, his assistant, Louisa, stops me.
“You don’t want to go in there. He’s been a bear all week,” she says.
I like Louisa. She has a faint Southern accent that can be real deceiving. She sounds like a Southern belle, when in reality, she has a bit of an edge to her. Which is probably how she manages to put up with Damian every day.
“I’ll risk it. Thanks though.”
I knock hard on his door, and I’m greeted with a stern “What?”
I open the door and step into Damian’s office. His eyes widen slightly at my entrance, but otherwise, he’s entirely neutral.
“I assume that means come in,” I say. I hear Louisa suck in a breath, a stifled laugh on her lips.
“Do you have a second?” I ask. He looks like sin sitting behind his desk, his suit jacket open, the white dress shirt stretched across his chest as he leans back in his chair.
But it’s the intense look in his eyes that sends a kick to my heart.
“Come in.” He gestures for me to close the door. “Take a seat. I need to talk to you,” he says, dipping his chin in an invitation to take the chair in front of his desk, but I choose to stand instead.
“I just need a signature on a couple of files.” I stand tall, keeping a polite mask of professionalism in place.
“Sit.” His voice is a command, and despite my best efforts, I sink into the chair like my body can’t help but obey him. I shift my shoulders, squaring myself for whatever is about to happen.
I knew I should never have agreed to that stupid dinner. He assured me that my job was secure, but now that he’s had a week to brood over it, I can see that he hasn’t had any great change of heart regarding my part in it.
I place the file on his desk. “Just your signature, please.”
He picks up the top piece of paper and holds it up to the light from the full-length window overlooking the city. I can see the “Satan’s signoff” indent still impressed on the paper. My cheeks heat as he studies it for a beat.
Damian shifts his eyes to me with a knowing look, but I stay silent.
He puts the paper down and signs his name at the bottom, flipping through the small packet to each of the signature tabs that Rui put in place.
He doesn’t pick his head up from the paperwork when he speaks. “Do you have plans tonight?”
“What? No. Why?” My brow furrows at this left-field question.
His phone rings before he can respond. He glances down at it and picks his phone up from his desk.
“I need to take this. We’ll talk later,” he says, handing me back the signed packet and dismissing me.
During the entire walk back to the accounting office, my mind is fixated on what Damian was going to say before his phone rang. It isn’t until Rui jumps up at my arrival that I pull my focus back to work.
“Is HR right behind you?” he whispers.
“No.” I turn and spin around like someone could have been surreptitiously following me down the hallway without me noticing. “Why?”
“Satan didn’t fire you?” Rui cuts a glance to Erica with a look of incredulity. In unison, they both snap their gazes back to me.
“But his door was closed,” Erica adds, confusion painted across her face. “He always closes his door when he’s firing someone.”
“Oh, um. Nope. Still employed.” I shrug. “I got the signatures you asked for,” I say, changing the subject before this can escalate into a full-blown incident. That’s how rumors get started, and I’ll be damned if I let that happen again.
“He signed them on the spot? And here I was thinking that was the end of you.” Rui expels a heavy breath, falling back into his chair.
I laugh. “It isn’t like he was going to banish me to the underworld.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell them that it’s just a job, but I don’t want to sound ungrateful for this opportunity, even though it isn’t what I really want to be doing.
“Must be because you’re cute,” Erica chuckles.
My stomach drops. I don’t need people thinking I’m getting any special treatment based on my looks. It’s a quick downhill battle from innocuous comments like that to hurtful gossip and an undermining of respect. I know about that well enough.
I smile softly all the same, trying to mask how uncomfortable I am.
“Let’s hope that’s not the case,” I say through my teeth.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re still here,” Rui cheers.
I sit at my desk, renewed and ready to work twice as hard as everyone else. Ready to prove myself as a competent, reliable, accurate accountant. Whatever it takes, I’m not going to let people think I don’t deserve to be where I am, because I do.
And no one is going to be able to doubt me.