In the car, Paul said, "Mr. Peterson told me not to pick you up before 10:00 a.m. tomorrow, Miss Weston. He wants you to sleep in until nine at least. Does that give you enough time?"
Pam clamped her jaws together and smiled. "Ten should be fine, Paul. Thanks."
"Good. He also asked me to follow you up to your door, since he suspected you'll require assistance with all the packages he expected to be delivered."
"That's not necessary, Paul."
"I believe it is, miss. So, I will find a nearby parking space and go in with you."
Realizing there was little she could say to dissuade the man, Pam sat back and remained silent.
When they arrived, she led the way, only to stop in the hallway. Packages lined the walls from floor to ceiling, leaving a small pathway to her door. Firmly refusing to let her help, Paul carried them into her bedroom. By the time he was finished, the shiny white boxes stood stacked in several shoulder-high rows between her closet and dresser, giving her just enough room to move about so she wouldn't feel claustrophobic while putting everything away.
"Would you like help unpacking, miss?"
"No, thank you." She reached for her purse, but he placed a hand over hers.
"This was my pleasure, Miss Weston, so I certainly hope you weren't thinking of reaching for your wallet."
She swallowed and smiled. "I feel like I owe you something."
"You don't. I'll be here tomorrow at ten."
Giving him a nod and her thanks, she saw him out.
Alone again, Pam tossed her keys into the bowl and flopped down on her couch. Rob's edicts, although caring, were wearing on her nerves, and unpacking her new clothes would simply have to wait.
Kicking off her shoes, she put her feet up on the coffee table and leaned back just as the phone rang.
Great. Leaning over, she picked up the cordless receiver by the couch and recognized the number. "Hi."
"Good, you're home."
"Yup. I'm sitting on the sofa, relaxing as ordered, sir."
"Did the clothing arrive?"
"I had no idea those few outfits would take up so many boxes."
"I may have added a few things."
"A few? What did you do, buy out the store?"
"Not quite. Did Paul help you put everything away?"
"No. It was enough that he moved the packages from the hallway into my bedroom, I was not about to let him hang everything up."
"Why not?'
"Because that's not his job."
A pause. "Oh? I didn't realize he worked for you now."
She barely refrained from growling at him. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"Right. Get some rest, and I'll call you later."
She shrugged. "As you wish."
"I am doing my best to be patient, Pam, but you're making it difficult. So go to bed. Clear?"
"Crystal, sir."
"Bye." He disconnected the line.
Despite the curtness of his tone, Pam knew he worried about her. Even so, his total immersion into her affairs bothered her. He'd warned her it would be this way, but the reality seemed a whole lot different.
Rising, she fixed herself a glass of water then retrieved her case and pulled out the Koppler file. She had no desire to wade through dress boxes and mounds of tissue paper, and sleep eluded her at the moment, so she decided to see what sense she could make out of this company.
She was beginning to notice a tenuous connection forming between the profit and loss statements of the two companies when her phone rang again. Not bothering to look at the display, she picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Pam, it's your mother."
Perfect. Pam shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "Hello, Mother."
"Your Aunt Agatha called. She told me about a young man whom she thought you might like to meet. He's with law enforcement, so she didn't think he'd be as put off by your problems as other young men have been in the past."
Pam sincerely doubted that. Most LEOs kept a wide berth of convicted felons, even juvies like her. A person with a record was not exactly welcomed into their tight social groups.
"I thought maybe you could come over Saturday and meet him?"
Despite Pam's mistrust over her mother's true intentions, she didn't want to get into another long, drawn out argument with her. So, she opted for politeness. "I don't think so, Mother. I recently started a new job, and my boss is out of town, so there's a lot to do. I'll probably go to the office on Saturday."
"Your new employer makes you work on the weekends? What does he do that's so important?"
"He's the CEO of the company, so he's extremely busy."
"Sunday, then?"
"Look, I think it's best I don't commit to anything, until I get a better understanding of when I'm needed." Her phone beeped. "I need to go. I've got another call, and it may be him."
"He calls you in the evenings?"
"Yes. And, if I don't pick up right away, he gets upset."
"Well, call me later, then."
"I will, if I get the chance. Bye." She pressed the flash button to answer. Hello?"
"You sound out of breath. Did I pull you away from something?" She'd never been happier to hear Rob's voice.
"No. My mother called."
"I see. If you need to talk to your mother, Pam, I can call back later, or you can call me."
"I don't need to talk to her. She's trying to set me up again."
An ominous pause. "Is this a common occurrence?"
"No, but it's occurring far more often than I like."
"Perhaps I should meet her?"
"Not unless you want to undergo a third degree."
"Think I can't handle it?"
"Oh, I'm certain you'd come through with flying colors. I'm the one who might not survive your interrogation."
He chuckled. "I wouldn't embarrass you."
"Not intentionally, perhaps, but you'd be unable to stop me from blushing when the questions started to get personal."
"Hmm. That sounds like a challenge, Miss Weston. So, did you get your clothes unpacked?"
"That's a weekend project, I think."
"All right. Did you rest?"
She glanced at the clock. It was a little after nine and she hadn't done anything, but work on the Koppler file. "I put my feet up for a bit," she answered, since it was the truth.
"How long?"
Shit. "Not quite a half-hour." True, because it was for less than a minute, which wasn't nearly a half-hour."
"That's a little shorter than I wanted, but we'll let it pass. What did you eat for dinner?"
"Krista and I ate a big lunch, so I wasn't hungry."
"Interesting. And what is your calorie count for the day?"
Wincing, she took out her book. Yogurt and fruit was 250 and her turkey sandwich on whole wheat was probably 500 calories with a handful of chips 200. Grand total 950. Yup, she was in trouble.
"Almost a thousand," she murmured, wanting to lie but realizing such tactics would be self-defeating.
"And yesterday?"
"Around 1500 with the Chinese food."
"Did you finish it all?"
"No, sir."
"Then you need to eat. You should still have leftovers from our dinner Monday night."
"I do. I'll fix something later, all right?"
"I get the impression I should insist you do so while I'm on the phone with you."
"After, okay?"
He took in a deep breath. "I asked Adam to do some analysis on the Koppler file, and imagine my surprise when he told me he couldn't find it."
Her buttocks clenching with dread, Pam sank down in her seat. "He couldn't?'
"No. Might you have any idea where it is?"
"You know, I think I'm hungry after all. Why don't I make a sandwich and call you back?"
"Half-hour."
"Right. Bye."
"Bye."
Pam put together a meal from the leftover food and set it in t
he microwave to heat before going back to the file. Where was she? Finding her place, she started to jot down a note when the microwave dinged. With a shake of her head, she ignored it and continued to work until her phone rang again. One half hour precisely. Shit.
"Hello?"
"Did you eat?"
"I fixed a plate."
"Did you eat it or leave it sitting in the microwave while you did other things?"
Pam glared at her phone, then glanced about her. No, he wasn't the type to spy in someone's home.
"Pam?"
"I left it in the microwave. Okay?"
"Obviously not. What was so important you couldn't get up and retrieve your dinner?"
"I brought home the Koppler file, and I found—"
"I'm going to cut you off right there because, at this point. I couldn't care less what you found. I set up certain guidelines before I left, which you agreed to follow but chose to ignore. Continuing to work after I send you home to rest is a sign that you hold little respect for my wishes. For some reason, you put that file above all other concerns, even those of other people. I decided to give that project to Adam instead, not because I doubted your capability, but because Adam needed the assignment to feel better about the Hemley deal going south. You even heard Krista admit that, and yet it meant nothing to you when compared against your own selfish goals.
"You hear what I say, then decide for yourself how you will proceed rather than do as I ask, and that is simply not acceptable."
Pam's eyes stung and throat closed tightly as she listened to him. "I'm sorry."
"Not good enough. You have deliberately taken advantage of my absence to do what you want, not what I require. Does my opinion mean so little to you?"
"No, sir."
"Then why are you choosing to dismiss my instructions?"
She glanced up at her ceiling and blinked to hold back the tears. "I want you to be proud of me."
"Really? Well, I must say you're doing a piss-poor job of that. At this point, I'm ready to suggest we relocate you. Perhaps HR can find someone who won't place as many onerous restrictions on you. Someone who won't mind if you work as late as you want without food or sleep. Because that appears to be the life you wish to lead, and my influence is having a negligible effect on your bad habits."
"I know it seems that way, but—"
"No. You're going to list a bunch of excuses, and I'm not interested in your reasons. I'll let you go do what you want, and cease bothering you. Have a pleasant night."
"Rob! Please don't hang up."
"Pam, if we stay together, you are not going to like what I will say and do when we see each other again. Perhaps we should seriously consider—"
"No! That's not what I want."
"Maybe not, but you're clearly not prepared to provide the commitment I expect and need from you."
A familiar sensation of panic caused every muscle in her body to tighten up. "I will. I'll do as you say. I promise!"
"Calm down. I'm not talking about firing you. I'm talking about finding you another position. You'll still be employed. Now, breathe."
Her fingers clutched tight, Pam sucked in a breath.
"Better. Though I'm disappointed in your attitude, I'm not saying these things to distress you, but I'm starting to doubt we're a good match."
Tears flooded her eyes as she nodded, her throat too constricted to speak.
"You're in a lot of trouble with me at the moment. Do you realize that?"
She tried to swallow but couldn't. "Yes, sir." Her words emerged in a whisper.
"I'm not going to continue to give you guidance so you can ignore my advice to do what you want."
"I won't."
Silence. Pam swallowed back a sob. This man had become so important to her that the mere thought of working for someone else filled her with an all-consuming dread. She hadn't meant to anger him, though she realized the mistake she'd made by dismissing his instructions to pursue her own agenda.
"All right. Take a few more deep breaths and listen to me."
Pam promptly obeyed. At this point, defiance was the furthest thing from her mind.
"First, put the Koppler file away. I do not want you to look at it again."
She glanced at the folder and winced. "Okay."
"Go do it now, Pamela. I'll wait."
She collected the paperwork and placed it back in her briefcase.
"It's done."
"Next, get your dinner. If it needs to be reheated, give it more time."
"Do you want me to do that while we're talking?"
"Yes."
"All right." She checked her plate, added another thirty seconds on high, then took it out.
"Go ahead and eat while I tell you what I want you to do next."
She began forking the food into her mouth, despite the fact she tasted nothing.
"When you're done eating and washing up, I want you to get ready for bed. Lights out by ten thirty. I'm not going to call and check up on you. I'll expect you to do exactly as I say. However, if you need to talk, phone me. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You have forty minutes to get everything done. Is that doable?"
She bobbed her head up and down in frantic agreement. "Yes, sir."
"Very well. Good night. Hopefully, I'll see you sometime on Saturday. I'll give you a call when I get home."
She risked a single question. "There's no chance you'll fly back tomorrow?"
"Only a slim one. Are you feeling a bit calmer?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sleep well. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Good night."
"Night." When he disconnected, Pam's lifeline snapped. She stared at the phone for a moment. Perhaps she should call him back and admit her anxiety. She shook her head. The man was a CEO, and the last thing he needed was a clingy admin begging for reassurance. She finished eating, washed up, and got ready for bed. As she lay down, tears rolled into her ears, so she grabbed a box of tissues and ordered herself to be calm, except it wasn't working.
Finally, giving up, she padded into the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. She often got drowsy after drinking alcohol, and rather than lie in bed and cry, she needed to coax herself into relaxing so she could rest.
Four glasses later, she was no closer to closing her eyes than she was before. The doctor had prescribed some pills to help her sleep. Perhaps she should take a couple of those. With her body as tense as it was, this would be the time for them.
She had a little difficulty standing but managed to walk a straight line into the bathroom and pull down the bottle. One to two tablets at bedtime. After taking two small pills with a tumbler of water, she carried the plastic vial back to the couch.
He'd been so angry with her, and yet he never once raised his voice, but that wasn't his way. He spoke with such calm assurance and authority, his words hit harder than his hand ever had.
Pam wet her lips and popped her mouth, aware of a light tingling sensation like effervescent champagne bubbles journeying up to tickle the tip of her nose. She giggled. A journey. That's what she was taking. A venture in discovery with a strong, handsome man to guide her. He wanted her to sleep, but she still wasn't sleepy. She felt airy and light, like she was floating, so she swallowed two more tablets with her Merlot. If two were good, then four were better, right? Besides, she wanted to do exactly what he asked. Perhaps she should call him so he knew she was being obedient to his wishes. He liked it when she did what he asked, even if it was simply to lie across his lap. She pressed her fingers to her nose and snorted. He'd seen her bare bottom. Did he enjoy the view? He never said. Perhaps she should call and ask him that, too. She loved the sound of his voice, when he wasn't being stern. Although he had a sexy voice even when he was scolding. She should tell him that, too. Oops. She spilled the pills. Waste not, want not. She took another sip of the fruity red wine and pressed the button on her cell phone that would connect her to him again. The lifeline would be restored.<
br />
"Are you in bed?" he answered promptly, as though he was waiting for her call.
"Not, yet. I decided to drink some wine first, to help me sleep. Do you know I think you're an extremely handsome and sexy man?"
"How many glasses have you drunk?"
"Only a couple. Not much. But my lips feel funny. Similar to when you kissed them." She giggled at the memory. "I am being most obedient though. I thought you should know, in case you had any doubetttes about that." She wrinkled her nose, wondering why her lips felt so numb.
"Did you eat all your dinner?"
"Yum. Talk to me. I like it when you talk me to sleep. Read to me again."
"Did you happen to take any sleeping aids with the wine?"
"Doctor prescribed some teeny, tiny white pills. They didn't work earlier, but I think…. Oh, look…. My hand's shadow can make funny shapes. A ducky."
"Yes. All right. Hold on a sec."
Pam hummed a tune while she waited, but her eyes were growing very heavy. She lay back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Fuzzy ceiling. Getting dark around the edges like a halo turning in on itself. A dark angel of mercy.
"Pam?"
"Night." Everything went black.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Voices. Loud voices. Blindingly bright lights. No, she didn't want to eat, so why were they insisting upon putting that tube thing in her mouth? She tried to struggle, but her arms and legs were weighted down. Heavy. Useless. Darkness.
Drifting, floating, aware and yet not, Pam hovered between sleep and consciousness as others bustled about her. Hushed serious-sounding voices spoke long, complicated terms. A few she understood, like unconscious state, dehydration, twenty-four hour observation; others didn't make sense, so she let them glide past.
Whispered murmurs, and the voice. She focused her attention on the voice, but the word was perplexing. "Suicide."
No, that wasn't right. She tossed her head and moaned.
"Quiet. Go back to sleep. You're fine." Long fingers stroked her damp hair, and she sighed as darkness claimed her again.
Prodded into wakefulness when a woman in white kept poking something sharp in her arm. Pam tried to pull away, but her arms were secured. She tugged, but they wouldn't come free. As panic seized her, she yanked again, fully awake.
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