Eight Vanessa
Upon entering the elevator, I retrieved my phone, summoning my personal assistant to arrange the delivery of Evelyn’s car to her apartment. Tomorrow was poised to be dreadful for her, and she would've refused the offer had I asked.
My assistant should have been the one to take her home, yet I’d had an inexplicable need to personally attend to the task. To attend to her.
It was nearly impossible for me to refrain from slipping into that mindset with Evelyn; constantly compelled to take care of her in ways that surpassed my obligations as her boss, even crossed them.
I noticed a missed call from Lillian, Vector Line's CFO and one of my closest friends. She was likely wondering where I had disappeared to. I'd only informed the event coordinator of my early departure, citing a family emergency.
I doubted Evelyn's absence would attract much attention from anyone in a position of authority. And if it did, I could easily confirm that she'd been unwell and needed to leave.
"Lillian, sorry for the late reply, something came up."
"Is everything okay? I was told you had an emergency."
"Everything is fine. I chose not to disclose the real reason for my departure, as it involved a private employee matter."
"Of course, I figured as much. But between us, what happened, Vanessa?" She inquired, perpetually eager for any information I might divulge.
"Someone had an exorbitant number of drinks to avoid offending the donors, but I handled it,” I clarified, disinclined to allow Evelyn a position as one of Lillian’s prime pieces of gossip.
"Oh Vanessa, please tell me you at least tried not to make their day any worse. They probably already—"
"God, Lillian, relax. I escorted her home, not dismissed her from her job. It was clear she wasn't doing it to be flippant."
"You didn't tell me it was Evelyn,” Lillian sighed, having formed her own ideas using her recollection of my specific preferences back in college.
"I swear to God, Lillian. Whatever nonsense is spewing inside your brain ends now,” I warned, my jaw clenching in aggravation.
"When you kill everyone else for breathing the wrong way, but buy Evelyn a croissant, I’m gonna have my suspicions. Especially when I've known you so long."
"Oh please, you're acting like my sympathy is indulgent toward her."
"Yeah, it sure as hell is when you don't have the slightest bit for anyone else."
"You're being ridiculous, and you know it. Now drop this."
"I know you well enough to put two and two together. You fired Jane for her,” she stated matter of factly. “But sure, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night."
I brushed off her careless comment, refusing to acknowledge her accurate assumption of my guilt.
"Is firing an unreliable employee not a normal course of action for a department head to take?"
"Whatever. But it doesn't take a detective to tell you it's not one-sided."
"Lillian, that's irrelevant. She works for me. I'm not taking advantage of her.” I closed my eyes at her oversimplification. She would never understand.
“Oh, Vanessa. Please tell me you're not honestly comparing this to something like that.” Her voice softened in pity I couldn’t stand being the subject of.
“There are similarities, and my caution is not a fault—it’s principled.”
"While I respect that, you wouldn't be if it—"
"Lillian, enough. While I appreciate your concern, this matter has little to do with my past, and we are done discussing it."
She knew when to stop.
"Okay, Vanessa, dear. I'm going to go.”
"Ugh. You're exhausting,” I said, hanging up.
Placing my breakfast order Monday morning, I included a croissant for Evelyn, hoping it would convey that everything was well between us.
Being a perceptive person, it took me all of one day of knowing her to pick up on how responsive she was.
Capable of discerning her true vulnerability, it was clear how easily I could hurt her If I wasn’t careful.
I’d fought the urge to check up on her Sunday knowing she’d likely feel ill and wouldn't remember much. Doing so would be crossing a line and I’d already crossed far too many, especially last night.
Striding into the building the atmosphere shifted around me. People were intimidated by me, and I preferred it that way.
Adam approached almost immediately. We'd always worked well together, due in no small part to the fact that he was gay. He didn't spend conversations staring at my chest or trying to flirt with me like so many other men did. It was refreshing.
Ordinarily, I had little patience for people wanting something from me or becoming flustered in my presence.
Evelyn should have been no different.
Yet somehow, she was.
The way she blushed. The way she stumbled over her words. The way she tried so hard to keep her composure only to lose it moments later.
Having made a habit of using pet names to remind male employees of their place, I did so to Evelyn without a second thought. But with her, their effect was completely different.
She was incapable of hiding her reactions, even when sober. From the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn't paying attention, I could practically feel the way she pressed her thighs together. She had little control around me, even less than most men, but I liked that far too much.
I sipped on my glass of red wine as I worked. The bottle had just arrived, specially shipped from France. Having not seen Evelyn yet today, she was most likely avoiding me out of shame. That was unnecessary, and this avoidance was going to end now.
I set the glass down, straightening out my silk blouse before heading to her office.
"Evelyn." I knocked, barely catching her meek reply. She sounded nervous, predictably going to make this difficult for herself.
Immediately, she started to give an apology, but I shut her up; we were not doing this.
"Relax, please, Evelyn. I'm not here to be poignant."
She blinked her pretty eyes in bewilderment.
"I'm allowed to feel bad.”
"You have nothing to feel bad about. I'm assuming you don't remember much?"
"Barely, hence my fear. I have a bad history of doing stupid things drunk.”
"You were fine. How bad was the hangover?"
"V– Ms. Walton, what did I do?"
Her slip was endearing. She looked hesitant, believing I’d be mad over it. If anyone else did, yes, I would feel disrespected, but not her. I had far more patience for Evelyn and didn't need another reminder I was her boss.
"Sweetheart, you can call me Vanessa, Ms. makes me sound old."
Relief coated her features.
"Oh please, you're thirty two—" She paused, realizing she’d just revealed she memorized my age. "Michael brought it up the other—"
She couldn't lie to me if her life depended on it. I bit my lip to stop myself from smirking as I raised an eyebrow, ceasing her attempts. I cherished her admiration toward me beyond what was reasonable.
"You know, sweetheart, when you stalk someone, try to be a little less obvious?" I mocked with faux sincerity, watching her head spin. "Also, I've done a spectacular job at creating the illusion that I'm older here. Do not ruin it."
I had a mature air, and some may be bothered to know they worked under someone half their age.
"You're the CMO of the company I work at; your age is perfectly normal information for me to know," she retorted.
Good try, Evelyn.
"Wow, you have a wonderful memory. But, sweetheart, I'm thirty-three in a week, so be sure to memorize that number equally as thoroughly instead. Unless you had already decided my exact birthday was a relevant piece of information you found necessary to hold too?"
I tilted my head, watching her open her mouth but shut it again, swallowing. She knew fighting would only make me play with her harder, but I wasn't done either way.
"I'm curious now, though. Honey, how old is Adam? You know, your boss?" I interrogated, watching her mind race, desperately trying to find a response to get her out of the hole she dug herself into.
"Fifty five," she replied coolly, without missing a beat, thinking I wouldn’t know it.
I’d given him a card for his 50th birthday a year ago.
"Wow, he'd be hurt to know he looks older than he is. Should I tell him you think that?"
Her eyes widened.
I should just leave the poor girl alone, for God's sake.
"No, he looks really good," she tried, but failed to help her hopeless case.
"Oh? Should I tell him you think that instead?" I laughed, my head falling back.
"Please don't, that sounds so bad,” she giggled.
"I'm terribly sorry, honey, but he wouldn't be interested; he's also gay."
Mindlessly, I placed my hand on her shoulder, playing into the faux sympathy. The way her breath hitched at my gesture didn't go unnoticed. I removed my hand quickly, not wanting to fuel this at the moment. I knew the limits of how much to prod her, not wanting to cross any lines.
She opened her mouth but stopped herself.
Oh, I used the word ‘also.’ But she couldn't honestly have expected me not to realize she was into women after the way she looks at me. Only me.
God, she really couldn't help herself, and I always pretended to be oblivious, so maybe she was just that naive.
Surely that's what she was on the verge of implying, wasn't it? As any such insight into my personal life would be entirely speculative on her part. Nevertheless, her comment prompted me to seek further clarification.
If she had so easily discovered my sexuality or relationship history, then so could everyone else. Though if my own actions toward her gave me away, that would be far worse. While I could decipher her, I was sure that she only assumed my sexual orientation at best, not the nature of my preferences.
"Evelyn, go on, what were you about to say?" I asked in a way that preserved the lighthearted conversation and didn't reveal the importance of her reply to me.
"Just that it makes sense.” She offered me a dismissive shrug.
"What makes sense?"
"Him being gay, he respects women.” She gave an unconvincing laugh.
She knew.
"How do you know, Evelyn?" I pressed sternly.