After that, I turn on my office PC and start checking the e-mails.
At that moment, a message arrives. I check the sender's name; it's from Deacon.
My hands start shaking. I got him mad at me and now he's going to fire me. Yeah, that's it. He surely thinks that I'm one of those girls that hit their bosses to get a promotion or even marry them for their money. Now, the inquisitive eyes of my coworkers feel like guns aiming at me. If I make one wrong move, I'm looking at a public execution.
Even so, I have to check his message. He's my boss; I can't give the man the cold shoulder.
I move the pointer on the flashing text and click on it. The message doesn't have a subject (which is weird, even for Deacon's standards) and is only one sentence long. Would it be that short if he was asking for my resignation? Probably not.
Well, it's all or nothing.
I start reading the message. "Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears. Edgar Allan Poe."
That's it. A simple quote, not saying anything else. Should I get excited or worried? Is that a warning or a hint?
I think I need a break.
Chapter 4
Things went on for some time. Two months passed since the day of the red lipstick incident. Deacon seems changed. He still makes sure he talks to me often, but his glances are longer and I've noticed he works late a couple of times every week, the same days I have to stay until late.
I never put on that lipstick again, not before being absolutely sure about Deacon's feelings towards me. I can't lose this job. Falling in love or having a crush on my boss is not a reason good enough to make me destroy my chances of finally making a career and starting a proper life. Even though I enjoyed the attention the red lipstick gave to me that day, it was a one-time thing, something that I don't dare repeat.
But that didn't mean I couldn't change my style in the meantime. After seeing the results of what a mere lipstick can do, I decided it's time I went through a makeover. Rachel was the person to ask when I finally got the money to spend on myself. She, Nadia, and I went on many trips to the mall to discover the style befitting a girl of my caliber.
I had to start by accepting my body as it is. I'm a curvy, full-grown woman that doesn't need to be jealous of girls like Linda. After all, we're different at a fundamental level; I can smile like I mean it while she's just showing her expensive work she has done on her teeth.
Even though my change of clothes didn't have the immediate impact I was looking for from Deacon, it did seem to draw the attention of other men. For once, when Nadia and I went for a drink at the club, she wasn't the only one flirting and getting treated to free drinks.
Hell, one guy even asked my number and made sure he showed his interest by grabbing my ass. One slap later, we burst into laughing like when we were young and nothing mattered to us.
Life was good, but it could have been better if I could spend it with him. Yeah, I do mean Deacon. I know it's just wishful thinking that a man like him will actually fall for someone like me, but still, I can't stop dreaming about his soft hand, that touch of skin to skin, his lips exploring my body...
I flush every time my fantasies get the best of me. It happens almost every time I see him. I think about him on my way to work and can't wait to get there to actually see him. Even today, riding the elevator to the upper floors of company office at the top, I'm doing my best not to think of him that way.
However, there's something feeling different today, more intense. He got the receptionist to inform me that he wants to see me in his office. It's not uncommon for him to ask me to get to his office, especially when the time for a big deal like the one happening this weekend gets closer.
Linda sometimes isn't enough to help him out, not when there are many companies involved in groundbreaking deals. There are people that have to be notified, emails that have to be written, and overall, work to be done for everything to be perfect for the upcoming meeting.
Nevertheless, the thing is that I can't go up there acting like he called me to get up and personal with me. It's business and it'll remain like that; I have to make stay like that.
That’s it until I arrive at the top floor.
As the lift opens, I notice that Linda's office is gloriously empty. She's nowhere to be seen. She vanished from the face of the Earth, she took a trip to never land, she's spirited away.
I'm starting to get a bad-slash-good feeling about it. During my short time working for Deacon, those mingled feelings became ordinary as well. I can't be around him and not feel flushed-slash-ashamed since he's my boss and all, so I have learned to deal with them in the best way possible.
Smile and not say a thing.
Nevertheless, I walk towards his office door and knock.
“Come in,” he replies from the distance.
“Did you ask for me, Mr. Stamford?” I say, wearing my best smile.
He sighs before replying to me. "Please tell me you haven't anything big planned for Friday night. Also, I've told you since day one; call me Deacon. You make it sound like I'm one hundred years old."
I'm surprised but nevertheless, answer to him. "No, I guess I'm free this weekend. Why? What is the matter, Mr.--I'm sorry. I mean, what is the matter, Deacon??"
"You know about that huge deal our company is preparing for months now, right? Well, I'm supposed to visit their headquarters tomorrow and stay there for the night to prepare for the Friday meeting. The flight back is then scheduled for Saturday. Up until today, Linda was the one accompanying me on this trip, but she caught the flu and has a high fever since last night. I can't allow her to come, not when she sniffles every ten seconds. However, that leaves me with one PA short. Please, Chloe, you're the next person in my list of dependable PAs. I wouldn't ask you like that if I really didn't need you."
Okay, what again? Linda is sick and I'm the only one that can accompany the hot Deacon Stamford to a three-day business trip where we'll spend together practically all the time? Did I make a wish upon a falling star that I don't remember of? Because that's how I feel right now.
I must look funny because Deacon is ready to get on his knees and beg me to come with him. I have to give him an answer. "Don't worry, Deacon. I'm free this weekend, but I don't know if I can be of any help to you. Linda was the one that had prepared for this meeting and --"
"I already got her to send me the files. Get the rest of the day off and start studying them. I can answer all your questions tomorrow," he says in a hurry.
He springs up from his seat and rushes to my side. When he gets closer, he places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes me gently. It feels like I'm his best buddy and at the same time a jellyfish that someone pokes and starts making waves on its body.
"You don't know how much obliged I am to you, Chloe. You're my savior," he says and vanishes behind the wall, heading to Linda's desk. I'm supposed to follow him but I take a breath before actually doing so.
Thankfully he doesn't know how much I like him. If he did, then things would be really awkward for both of us; now, they will only be awkward for me.
***
We arrived at the town yesterday and we haven't stopped attending business meals yet. I swear I'm stuffed and don't feel rather attractive right now. On the other hand, it's the longest I've spent in Deacon's presence. From our trip to the city to all those meetings, it feels like I've known him my whole life.
The man doesn't stutter, not ever. He speaks Spanish and French fluently; he's well-read, knowledgeable, and can go par to par with people twice his age. It's not a euphemism that all magazines call him the rising businessman of his generation. Deacon is rich, well-mannered, and above all, a professional. He doesn’t get distracted, doesn’t let the pressure of his work show on his face, and above all, he never deviates too far from the task at hand.
And while I learned a lot about this mysterious man during this trip, I feel somehow disappo
inted. Why? I reckon I was hoping for more. Don't get me wrong- this wasn't some kind of romantic getaway for the two of us and I made no illusions about it either. But I wished to get him know better on a more personal level too. Instead, I saw only his professional face.
I don’t know why I hoped things would have been different, that these few precious days would have been special. I guess I wanted to meet the real, casual Deacon not his businessman persona. But that would have meant he’s interested in me, something that sounds impossible as it is improbable.
Even during those rare moments between the meetings, he spent most of the time talking with the clients and only some precious minutes talking to me mainly about the next things on the agenda. And while he always smiled at me and asked how I coped with it all...well, I don't know. Sometimes it is so confusing trying to read his signals. In case there are any, of course. Perhaps I should try harder to remind myself that this trip is purely business (at least to him).
Even so, in those precious minutes between the meetings, Deacon made me feel important, not helpless, he made me feel smart not an idiot. By being there for me, he made sure he showcased my feminine side not suppressed it. I don't know how he managed to do that, but I guess I'll never know. It's a Deacon thing.
The next morning meeting was a success. Deacon managed to make one of the most profitable deals that the company has ever done, and I admit it myself, he did it single-handedly. I was just there to pass him the right papers at the right time and order. I mean, there was no time for me to work on this project to get better acquainted with it, so there were parts that Deacon had to improvise until I did what he asked me to, but overall, working with him was a great experience.
Until the minute it ended.
We spent a great deal of our morning in that meeting and a great deal of the rest of our day talking to the executive members of the company. What started as a dream was quickly becoming a nightmare. I don't know why I thought otherwise, but we were running out of time and we didn't spend even a minute alone.
Deacon shakes the hand of all the people that attended the meeting for the hundredth time and after there was nothing else to share with them, he turns and looks me in the eye. I'm not sure what he's thinking, but I guess I spot a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. It's like he's surprised that I'm still here.
I don’t have the strength to smile anymore. I need to get as far away from him as possible. I feel overdosed with Deacon’s presence and I need some time to clean my system of his influence.
He walks towards me; he doesn't smile this time either.
When he gets closer, he stops. "I...well...I'm not sure how you feel...but...but I'm famished. Would you join me for an early dinner?"
The man who didn't stutter in front of senior members of the business industry nor shuffled his words after two days of talking constantly, just stuttered to me? Is something wrong? Did something bad happen?
"Yes, of course. I think I can handle a dinner," I say but stop before filling out the rest of the sentence with something that I would have regretted.
I think I can handle a dinner, especially if it's with you.
"Great. I know a place nearby that I always wanted to try. Do you like Chinese food?" he asks me.
After I nod, I feel revitalized. He asked me out for a dinner. He isn't surprised that I'm here. That was just my insecurities kicking in. But...but what if this is a sympathy dinner? He might want to take me out for being a good sport and following him on a business trip that I wasn't prepared to make.
God, I'm so confused I barely participate in the idle chit chat we make all the way to the Chinese restaurant down the road. I'm doing my best to answer his questions, but it feels like most of the time I'm absent. I'm lost in my own Odyssey of doubts. He wants me or wants me not?
That goes on until we arrive at the restaurant. He makes me walk inside first and then his elaborate plan suddenly reveals in front of me.
The place is full of turned tables and lit candles. Even though it's relatively early in the afternoon, the atmosphere inside the room is that of late in the night. There's only one waiter standing at the entrance.
“Welcome, Ms. Chloe. We’ve been expecting you,” the man says and smiles at me.
Confused, and a tiny bit scared, I turn and search for Deacon's comforting eyes. I find them behind me, lined from the wide smile he shares with me.
“I meant to yell surprise, but I guess it would be inappropriate. That doesn’t mean I can’t congratulate you for three exceptional months working for me.”
And then it hits me; today is the three-month anniversary of the day I started working for Deacon.
Chapter 5
Eating in an empty restaurant with the man of your dreams sitting opposite you is a priceless feeling that doesn't come often in my life. I guess, it's something between surprise and stress. There's an unbearable weight on my chest that makes it hard to breathe and my stomach is tied in a knot.
I don't talk much but instead, listen. I see nothing else but his eyes. It's a feeling close to being sick with a fever but instead of being agonizing, it's pleasant and warm.
Deacon pours wine in my glass and then in his. After that, he places the bottle on the table and raises his glass in the air: "To many months of successful collaboration to come."
I'm not sure why, but I had enough of budding work relationships for this weekend. Did he organize a whole dinner to surprise me for my three-month anniversary? Me? Why me? Would he do the same thing to Linda? Would he do the same thing to everyone? Why his smile feels fake? Pressed?
I can't go on like this anymore. Like he did last time, I dig up a quote that I thought befits our relationship perfectly.
“‘To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.’”
His smile fades. "What did you just say?"
Maybe if he didn't take me out to this dinner or if he didn't remember my work anniversary when I have forgotten it myself, I wouldn't have said it to him. But it was that feeling of relentless passion that drove me; that and the second glass of expensive red wine.
There was no turning back now. “It’s Gabriel Garcia Lorca. It talks about unrequited love,” I say.
"I know the quote. But why this particular one?"
“Because I’m done punishing myself for something I can’t have,” I say and clink our glasses to a silent echo.
We stare into each other’s eyes for a long minute, long enough for the waiter to tactfully break our silence.
“Are you ready to order?” he asks us.
But we don’t reply to him.
“Why do you think you’re punishing yourself?” he asks me at last.
It's difficult to answer to him when there's a stranger waiting for an order over my head, but if Deacon isn't afraid of my answer then neither am I.
“Isn't it obvious? Unless I mean him,” I say and point at the waiter, “then it means there’s someone else in this restaurant that I have fallen for.”
"I think I'll return in a moment," the waiter says but I stop him.
“No, please stay. The sleek Deacon Stamford probably has to say something to you.”
I'm mad. Mad at the man who gave me this job, mad at the man who seduced me with his manners, mad at the man who fucking remembered the date he hired me. I don't want to be angry with him, but this is the only feeling I have left to spare.
The waiter moves to a go, but Deacon stops him. "Bring us a second bottle of wine. We'll need another moment," he says.
I smile in a sarcastic manner without meaning to. Deacon sees me. "I don't understand where this animosity comes from. What's gotten into you?"
“Why did you choose me to come with you? You have three PAs and countless other employees at your disposal. Why me? Is it entertaining to have someone worship you like a little dog?”
Again, he acts surprised. God, is this his true self behind the mas
k of the shining knight?
“Chloe, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. If you don’t explain it to me then I don’t know how I can help you.”
“You’re confusing, Deacon Stamford. Confusing, infuriating, and achingly handsome. I’m tired of trying to understand if you want me or not. You spend a good deal of your time looking at me in secret and when I confront you in the open, you act like you don’t understand a thing. What is it then? Yes or no? Love or professionalism? Do I stay or do I go?”
Like before, the waiter arrives to interrupt our crosstalk. Only this time, Deacon says nothing.
“Here is your second bottle, sir. Please call me whenever you’re ready,” he says and places the bottle next to me.
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