Chapter 22
Phoenix
“Phoenix, excellent, come.” Clark beckons me with a wave of his hand from behind his mahogany desk.
He's seated, a bigheaded man of mystery, with a sleek white mask obscuring most of his face, his attire a sharp black suit as always.
“I'm glad you could make it. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a bit.”
“Yeah, I'm glad too.” I’m so full of shit as I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “I've had some thoughts as well, and it's as good a time as any to discuss them.” Really, though, I’m tired of being under this fuck’s thumb. But the boss says. So it is.
“Well, okay.” He leans back in his leather chair, gesturing with an open palm to indicate the floor is mine. “You go first.”
“I don't want anything to change between us.
The Sect and me. This arrangement I have where I'm working for the boss.” I pause, choking on the words I choose carefully.
Am I really going to do this? Can I even get it out?
Is this even what I fucking want? “I'm well compensated.
And I'm not looking to change any of what I do for you. But you see, I'm in a bit of a predicament.” Even I can tell I’m delaying.
If I open this door, I’ll never be able to close it. And that scares the shit out of me. I’ve been grabbing, trafficking and hate fucking women for the better part of a decade. Am I really just going to give it all up—for her?
Through the slits of his mask, I catch a glimpse of Clark’s eyes, dark and intense, and I notice a concern deepening within them. I recognize it, because I feel it to.
“Okay. Why are you telling me this?” His voice carries a mixture of curiosity and annoyance, cutting through the quiet of the room.
“Well, I think I'm in love,” I actually fucking blurt it out while trying to hold a steady voice. The office feels unusually warm, and my palms are slightly damp with nervousness. I can’t believe I just admitted something so significant, and to him. “I know how he feels about that sort of thing.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
There’s no turning back now.
Clark leans back in his leather chair, folding his aged hands on his chest. “I see,” he responds, his eyes narrowing as he studies me for a moment.
“You've seemed a little different lately.
I suppose this is the explanation. But it hasn't impacted your work.
And you're right. He doesn’t believe in love.
It's nothing more than lust in a fancy prom dress.
It looks great. You can take it out, show it to the world.
But at the end of the night, it's coming off.
And what you really want is what's underneath.”
“I know, I know.” I blink slowly, feeling the weight of his words. “He’s always been very clear about where he stands on this. But what hasn't been so clear to me is whether or not he’ll permit me to continue working for him while I find myself experiencing this sort of joy.”
He pauses, tapping his pen against the desk in thought. “Well,” he finally says, “it does make me a little hesitant. Pensive even. But it’s not my call. It’s his. This didn’t just happen yesterday, I assume.”
“No, it did not,” I affirm, nodding. “We’ve been—” I search for the right words, “—seeing each other, I guess, for a couple weeks now. But, truth be told, I’ve been obsessed with her since the first moment I saw her.
I thought I could fight it, and I just—” I trail off, remembering the first morning at the coffee hut.
The way her laughter seemed to brighten the cloudy sky above.
“Christ, Phoenix.” He stands and paces to the window behind him, his reflection fragmenting in the glass.
“You know what happened with Sam. I still remember you sitting at that dive of a bar with bloody knuckles and a story about having put your fist through a wall.” He turns, the mask's eye slits narrowing. “But fine. I’ll confirm he’s okay with you keeping your little distraction.
Just remember—” he taps his index finger against the freshly cleaned glass, hard enough I can hear his nail click, “—The Sect needs you at your very best. Every. Single. Time.”
I’m grateful he’s understanding. Well, as much as a brutally selfish and relentless man in a mask can be. As if the old structure can hear my thoughts, the lights flicker and cast shadows on the stone walls, forcing me to feel the weight of my decision.
“I’m also hoping he’ll be okay with me not attending auction nights anymore.
The temptation is—” I struggle to get the words out.
The truth reminds me how innocent I’m not.
How I’m actually a terrible person. At least I have been.
“Well, some of the merchandise is hard to resist in this setting, is all.” I’m sure it’s a useless request, but my conscience will feel better knowing I tried to express my desire for change.
I feel like a pussy. A limp-dicked fool. A sucker who has once again been ensnared. The taste of shame is suffocating in my throat.
“I suppose it’ll depend on how the software is working,” he replies, turning to face me again, his eyes scanning mine for any reaction.
“I know you’re installing the new update, so let’s see how it goes.
I don’t necessarily need to have you here, and of course, it means he won’t have to throw a free quarter-million dollars out there for you to do with the merchandise as you please.
” His voice is calm but firm, the implications of trust heavy in the air.
“That was always sort of a perk, if you will. You do such a good job, the boss has always insisted the least he could do was let you have a little taste of everything you were giving him. But I want to make sure all the money coming in and all the product going out are accounted for appropriately. If you can assure us that will continue to happen, there’s no obligation on you to be here for the auctions.
” The weight of his words hangs in the air, and I nod, feeling a sense of tentative relief wash over me.
“Absolutely. And you said you wanted to speak with me as well, yes?” I ask, standing at attention still on the opposite side of his desk, my hands slightly clammy with anticipation.
“It's funny you mention it. It seems we were both focused on the same thing.” His eyes flicker towards my leg, and I notice a hint of concern.
“I had just noticed a little hesitation in you recently.
I wanted to be sure it wasn't something more severe. If it’s simply a little bit of love blindness, it's of no concern.”
I had braced myself for a confrontation, expecting him to unleash a barrage of criticism. To call me an idiot. To demean women and label them as nothing more than fancy come socks. It would be on brand for Clark. But instead, there is understanding. Almost a hint of benevolence.
I decide not to press my luck or argue.
Struggling to release the tension in my shoulders go, I nod confidently. “I assure you, nothing will go wrong with the operations. I'll even recheck the encryption so no one can interfere if I’m not here.” His approval in return sends a hypocritical wave of satisfaction through me.
As I leave his office, my mind races with thoughts of Roni. I can almost picture her smile, her eyes lighting up as I tell her everything. My feelings. My hopes. My dreams. A plan forms in my mind, clear and vivid.
I quickly pull out my phone and type a message, my fingers dancing over the screen.
Phoenix: I can’t wait to see you again