by Tasha Fawkes
After watching some TV and letting myself unwind, I have a shower and climb into bed. I reach for my phone to set my alarm. There’s a message from Mel, checking up on me.
Margie: Tell me you’re still alive? I haven’t seen any new reports of any bodies found in Providence Street, so there’s that.
I chuckle. She isn’t shy when it comes to criticizing my choice of residence. How was I supposed to know that this street had a reputation as one of the biggest Meth hubs in the state? I’m from South Dakota, for God’s sake.
Me: Still alive, no need to worry. Haven’t found myself buried in a dumpster just yet.
Margie: Glad to hear it. How’s the job going? I miss you. You’re welcome back here anytime, you know?
I appreciated that more than she knew, but I had to do this on my own. That and the forty-minute commute there and back every day would probably kill me, and would definitely kill the car.
Me: Love you, Margie. Come visit me soon, okay?
I plug my phone into the charger then turn the light off, snuggling into my bed. Naturally, I think of Matt, because it drowns out the fighting happening next door. I hear a gunshot, then silence, and wonder if I should call the police, but then the fighting resumes, so it’s all good.
I can’t wait to get out of here. I bet Matt went home to his twenty-bedroom mansion. I feel a stab of envy, but I push it out of my head. The guy has been nothing but nice to me, and it’s not his fault he’s rich. I just wish I had his problems, instead of my own.
I wake up the next morning and roll over, smiling as the sunlight bleeds through the crack in the bottom of the curtains. I haven’t woken up this happy in a long time, and after everything that happened over the past few days, I probably shouldn't be getting too far ahead of myself. It’s only a matter of time before things feel like they’re falling apart again. I fumble for my phone, glancing at it to check the time. When I notice a text from an unfamiliar number, my body tenses. I immediately think that it's something I'm not going to want to read, but at the same time I’m curious. What if it’s Matt? I force myself to open the message, my hands trembling.
Matt: Hope you slept okay. I'm going to send someone around to pick you up this morning because I left with your keys. Come see me when you get a moment so I can return them.
Shit. How did I let that happen? And how am I going to lock my apartment when I leave today? Someone stole my door knocker last week; I’m hardly going to trust them with my whole apartment. I decide to deal with that later, so I can go back to swooning over how thoughtful Matt is.
I read the message over and over again, sure I must be dreaming, or at least missing the real meaning of what he’s saying. But no, it’s straightforward and totally thoughtful. This can't be happening, can it? This kind of shit doesn't happen to me. Being accosted at my father's grave, and getting harassed in a deserted parking lot; yep, that was definitely me, but not this.
The rest of the morning I'm in a daze, until it’s time to leave for work. I lock the doors and climb out my window, scaling my way down the fire escape. I ignore the catcalls and whistles I’m receiving from two men working on a drain across the street and focus on not falling head first into the concrete below me. Though I’m sure I wouldn’t be the first person to do that around here.
A black VIP cab is waiting for me when I arrive out the front. I have a giddy smile on my face when I climb in. I’m pretty sure it’s mine, considering the neighborhood I live in. Come see me when you get a chance. Did he just want to give me back my keys, or did he want to actually see me? He could’ve left them on my desk, or with his assistant, but he is going the extra mile and asking me to seek him out so he can return them in person. I close my eyes and try not to get too excited, but it’s hard.
Part of me wants to be hopeful. I’ve had so much bad happen in my life, that this is making me feel like maybe there is something worth fighting for. The dreamy, happy feelings that fill me when I think about Matt are a welcome change to the heart stopping dread that usually overwhelms me.
The moment I walk into work, I’m torn. Do I go and see him now, or get some work done first and then go see him? In the end, I decide to just go up now, because I know I’m not going to get anything done until I do this. My hands shake as I take the elevator up to the top floor. Just as I'm about to exit, he’s there in front of me, looking all kinds of sexy. My knees actually buckle when he smiles at me.
“I was just thinking about you,” he murmurs, a sexy smile on his lips. He stares at me with those intense eyes, and I’m gone.
My cheeks flush. He was? God, he’s so attractive and completely out of my league, and he’s been thinking about me? It makes no sense.
“Coffee?” he asks with a smile. “My assistant was just about to go get me one. You’re welcome to join me.”
“Uh, sure.” I grin. “Latte, one sugar,” I mumble, the words sticking in my throat.
“Good.” He nods. “Come with me.”
He murmurs something to his assistant as we pass her, then he takes my arm to guide me into his office. I glance at his assistant as I pass her. She smiles at me, her eyes curious as she glances from him to me. I don't know what she’s thinking, but I just hope this isn't going to be spread around the office by lunchtime.
I walk into his office immediately stunned by the breathtaking panoramic views of downtown Boston. I follow the window around so I can take it all in. He chuckles and watches me from the corner of the room.
“Impressive, huh?”
“Very,” I breathe. “I thought the view from the roof was amazing, but this…” I shake my head. The roof has a stunning view of one side of the skyline, but in here, it wraps right around. “I can just imagine how pretty it is at night,” I whisper.
“Come and find out.” He shrugs.
I stare back at him, wide-eyed. Did he just invite me to his office at night? As in, after dark? When everyone else has gone home? I force my attention back to the view so he can’t see how red my face is.
“That wasn’t a proposition, by the way,” he chuckles.
“Oh okay,” I mutter. He raises his eyebrows, and I realize I sound disappointed. “I mean, I like you and all, but you’re my boss and I can’t afford to lose my job.” Oh God, Char, just stop talking. He chuckles, his eyes twinkling as he struts over to me.
“Before I forget,” he murmurs. He takes my hand and opens it, pressing something into my palm. I look down at my keys. “I wouldn’t want you not being able to get inside, or I’d have to insist you stay at my place.”
I shove them in the pocket of my jacket. There’s no misreading that comment…is there?
“Come back up after work, okay? I could actually use your advice on a…” He pauses for a moment. “Situation I’m trying to resolve. You’ll get to see the lights, and I’ll get to pick your brain. Sound fair?” he asks.
I nod. He could’ve told me I’d be massaging his feet, and I’d have agreed that it sounded fair.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll see you later.”
The wait all day is excruciating and I have no idea how I survived it, but finally it’s five o’clock and I’m done for the day. It’s still light outside, but I figure we’ll work on his problem and then by the time I’m ready to leave, it will be dark.
This also helps with my other problem of not wanting to leave when they’d expect me to. The later I can stay the better, especially since they already know my car. When they see it missing, hopefully they’ll assume I’ve already left.
I exit the lift on the top floor, relieved to see his assistant has gone for the day. She was discreet about my presence earlier, but I knew that wouldn’t be the case with me visiting at this hour. This is five-star gossip, especially since I’m the new girl.
I knock on the door and wait for him to answer. My heart races as a million things run through my head. About Matt, my father, the debt. I’m trying not to have a meltdown when the door swings open and Matt stands there, smiling at m
e. I feel strangely at ease seeing him.
“Coming in?” he says.
I follow him inside, where I stand awkwardly. It's not yet dark outside, so I can't focus on that, so instead, I just wait for him to say something.
“Can I offer you a drink?” he asks. I glance at the scotch in his hand and shake my head. “I have wine, water, soda,” he chuckles.
“Okay, a wine then, thanks,” I say, my voice not sounding like my own. I'm not a big drinker because that money is always reserved for something else, but I’m confident that I can handle a glass of wine without getting drunk.
I take off my jacket and place it over the edge of the large leather couch that sits against the far window. He nods for me to sit down. I do, sinking into the soft leather, accepting my wine from him. I take a sip of it, using the moment to try and compose myself.
He joins me on the couch, considerate enough to leave some distance between us.
“So what's this problem you have?” I ask.
I'm still not sure how I could possibly help, or if there even is a problem at all. Maybe it was all just a ploy to get me up here. I almost lose it at that thought, because it just sounds ridiculous. All he had to do was ask me and I’d be up here.
“It's not so much of a problem I have, it's more of a solution that I need your help to achieve.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, not quite understanding where he's going with this. “Can you elaborate, or am I supposed to guess?”
“Alright, I just could come out and say it.” He stares at me so intently that I want to look away. “I know about your problem, Charlene, and I want to help you fix it.”
Holy shit. Of all the things that could’ve come out of his mouth, I did not expect this. I sit there, stunned and unable to speak. How did he figure it out?
“I want to help you fix everything, but in return I need you to return the favor. I need you to marry me for at least a year. Do that, and problem solved.”
My heart races as I struggle to comprehend what he's saying. But as I do, another realization hits me. He knows everything and that's why I'm here. He doesn't want to help me, he wants to help himself. He saw me as an opportunity to fix whatever the hell it is that requires him to be married for a year. I'm so angry, but more than that, I'm embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that I let myself believe that he was actually a nice guy. I pause for a moment, but eventually find my voice. I stand up and face him, my hands shaking as I summon up the courage to speak.
“It takes a special kind of jerk to take advantage of a woman in such a vulnerable state,” I begin, nearly spitting the words out. I have no idea where this courage is coming from. It’s either very brave or very stupid of me to stand up to him like this. I have no doubt that I won’t have a job after I’m done, but I refuse to stand here and let him treat me like a piece of shit. Is he expecting me to throw myself at his feet and tell him how thankful I am for him saving me?
“Charlene, wait,” he calls out after me. He almost sounds panicked, which catches me off guard, but I quickly recover. “I think you’re misunderstanding my intentions.”
“Am I?” I whip around, facing him, my eyes challenging him to tell me I’m wrong. He lowers his gaze and I smirk, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in my eyes. “I didn’t think so.”
“Charlene—”
“Thank you so much for your kind offer, Mr. Harris,” I interrupt him, anger burning my cheeks. “But if it’s all the same to you, you can keep your forty-grand. I’ll pay off my father’s debt own.”
Six
Matt
I sit in my office, tapping my foot against my desk, lost in thought. I didn’t like tricking her into believing that I knew what she was hiding, but I figured if I pulled it off, she’d probably end up telling me herself. And it had worked.
She’s expected to pay off her father’s debt. It was a bigger secret than I’d expected. The fact that it’s cruel, unusual, and completely unfair is irrelevant, because I know that I can use this to my advantage. She needs my help, plain and simple. There is no other way out of this for her, other than through me. She isn’t likely to be able to come up with that kind of cash on her own, which means eventually, she is going to cave. I just have to keep up with the pressure and be there when she falls.
I liked the way she told me to go to hell. I’m used to women falling over themselves to get my attention, not throwing it back in my face when I give it to them. Her unwillingness to fall for my charms was refreshing. If it wasn’t for the small issue of me needing to be married and to have produced a heir before I turned thirty, she might actually have been someone I’d have considered dating.
Regardless, I don’t doubt that by the end of the week, I’ll be married and my family will be well on their way to receiving their inheritance. To not have them on at me constantly about this is something I’m looking forward to. God, I can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like to have five minutes to myself. Five minutes of fucking peace and quiet, without my family hounding me to find a wife.
I rise from my chair, feeling satisfied that I’m finally making progress. Just as I reach the door, I stop and turn back when something catches my eye. I smile, not quite believing my luck. Her jacket lays over my couch, exactly where she left it. I distinctly remember her slipping her keys inside the pocket of that very jacket. In fact, I had made a joke that, without them, she’d have no choice but to sleep at my house. This couldn’t be more perfect.
I grab the jacket and walk out of my office, unable to wipe the smirk off my face. I’m convinced that this is the part where she finally gives in. She’ll fall at my feet, thanking me for helping her, just like every other woman.
I stand at the front of her apartment building, leaning against my car, watching as she approaches the front door of the complex. I took the back way here, traveling well over the speed limit just to make sure I was here to see this.
I smirk as she goes to slip her hand into a jacket pocket that isn’t there. She looks down and curses. I chuckle. This is great. I step away from my car, ready to come to her rescue as I walk across the path in her direction. I lower my head and ignore the two junkies that are walking past me, avoiding eye contact. How can she stand living here?
Five minutes standing outside of my car and I’ve seen things I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t have been witnessing. Not that it matters. As soon as I get her to agree, she’ll move in with me. It’s just another reason for her to say yes.
With a smirk on my face and her jacket casually draped over my arm, I clear my throat. She spins around, her expression startled when she sees that it’s me.
“What the hell do you want?” she asks, scowling at me. I chuckle. She almost looks disappointed that it’s me and not one of the addicts milling around, waiting for their next hit. “Are you following me now?”
I raise my eyebrows and glance at her jacket on my arm. She follows my gaze and flushes when she spots the jacket and remembers that her keys are inside that pocket.
“I thought you might need this,” I say, holding it out for her.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice clipped. She takes it and fishes through the pocket for her keys, clutching them in her hand. “Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you. I guess I’m having one of those days.” She gives me a look to make sure that I know I’m one of the causes of her bad day.
“Charlene, can we talk?” I say with a frown.
“Why?” she says. “Returning my jacket doesn’t change anything. You made it clear to me what you're after, just like I've made it clear to you that I'm not interested. So there is nothing really left to discuss, is there?”
I stare at her, shocked that she isn’t even going to let me explain. I’m sure once she's had a few moments to think about my offer, she’ll come around. I thought that turning up here would change things, but it hasn’t done any good at all. She’s still annoyed and wants nothing at all to do with me. Because you came across as an arrogant asshole.
&nb
sp; I sigh, because I know that’s the truth. It’s no wonder she doesn’t want anything to do with me after the way I asked her to marry me. I made it clear that she is the problem and I am the solution. Maybe I’ve gone about this the wrong way. What I should have done is put myself on the table and let her know how badly I needed this too, instead of just playing the hero and trying to help her.
“Charlene,” I begin.
She cuts me off, shaking her head. “No. I’ve heard enough from you. Just leave me the hell alone, or I’ll have you up for harassment. I'm sure that would more than cover my forty-grand debt without your so-called help,” she says, her voice rising.
She blinks back tears as she turns around and shoves the key in the door. I frown as I watch her, wishing she would just listen to me. Her empty threat doesn’t deter me—while I believe that she’s capable of many things, I don’t think blackmail is one of them, but I don’t want to push her any more than I already have. I feel any chance I had of getting her to agree to marry me, has all but slipped away.
“Okay, fine. I’ll leave you alone,” I mutter.
She frowns at me, as if she expected more of a fight. I walk back to my car, not bothering to turn around to check on her. If she wasn’t even going to hear me out, then I have to figure out another solution. The problem is, I’m running out of time and options. I need to look at who I have on hand, someone who already knows me and who would accept this kind of arrangement. All I’m doing is wasting time by chasing after Charlene. I need to forget about her and move on. The only problem with that is, I can’t forget her.
Back in my car, I release my anger out by hammering my fist against the steering wheel. Fuck. What am I going to do now? I thought if I could convince her of all the ways this could benefit her, then she’d agree to it. But somehow, I had managed to pick the one girl in the whole fucking country with morals. It’s easy to tell myself to forget about her and move on, but the reality is, she was my only real option.