Lured In (Dark Paradise, #1)

by Avent, V. R.

  Attitude, huh? I’m the one who should have the fucking attitude.

  “Had I known about the meeting I would’ve been here on time.”

  “No. This isn’t the first meeting you’ve been late to, and everyone got the memo. I sent the message to Lauren last night, and she forwarded it to all employees.” I cut my eyes over at Lauren.

  “I didn’t get the memo,” I countered with equal grit in my voice.

  “So you say, Ms. Winterfield,” he responded.

  That son of a bitch. How dare he take that tone and attitude with me? I guess it was all about the sex with him. And me freaking out was a perfect way for him to make his escape. Damn, I am so stupid. I knew he was only after one thing. I hate him. Hate yourself for giving in to him so soon and without knowing him.

  “Page thirty-three, and don’t worry about him. I heard he’s some kind of demanding control freak—a real jerk,” Timmie whispered when I sat down beside him so that only I could hear. Timmie was one of the administrative assistants. He had an athletic build and a medium stature. He was perfectly tanned, with brown hair and blue-gray eyes, and was very bi.

  “I’m sorry. It looks like Ms. Winterfield and Mr. Goldstein are having their own meeting. Care to discuss what you two are talking about while I’m trying to head a meeting here?” Zach demanded.

  Timmie frantically tried to tell him that he just gave me the page number, while I said nothing. I stared at him and rolled my eyes.

  “Mr. Goldstein, you are excused from this meeting. And do leave your employee badge with security after you clean your desk. Ms. Winterfield, do I have your attention now? And don’t roll your eyes at me again. It’s childish and something that you should’ve left at the playgrounds of your elementary school years ago.”

  He just fired Timmie to prove a point to me! You evil bastard.

  “How dare you fire him for telling me a damn page number? What the hell is the matter with you?” I yelled at him, jumping from my seat. Everyone gasped as I stood to take on Zach McConnallay. My dad came over and tried to make me sit back down, but that didn’t help. My mind had been made. I was going to defend Timmie.

  “Ms. Winterfield, are you being insubordinate? You are the president of this company and should carry yourself as such. Or did I make a poor decision when I promoted you?”

  “Did you make a poor decision in promoting me? Hell, yeah, you did, especially if you think I’m going to sit back and allow you to fire someone for telling me a damn page number.”

  “Enough, Abigail,” my dad whispered angrily in my ear.

  “You know this shit isn’t fair,” I said to him, loud enough for Zach to hear.

  “What’s that, Ms. Winterfield?” Zach looked at me wrathfully.

  “Do you stand behind your bullshit position to relieve Mr. Goldstein of his position? For mentioning a goddamn page number?” I moved directly in front of Zach. He remained seated with his right leg over his left and both index fingers brought together, forming a triangle over his lips.

  “Yes, I do,” he answered, shifting the triangle to the left of his lips and looking up at me.

  Sitting there with that smug-ass look.

  “Fine. That’s hogwash, just like you, and you know it. You spew what you are. I guess you won’t mind having this one as well.” I took off my badge, dropped it in the middle of his lap, where his penis was, and turned quickly on my heels.

  My dad and stepdad ran out after me. “Have you lost your damn mind?” my dad asked.

  Uncle Ernie was quick behind them, yelling loud enough that everyone in the conference room could hear us. “Do you know he can liquidate every goddamn thing we worked hard for in a matter of seconds? Get back in there and apologize to him.”

  In an equally loud tone, so that everyone could hear, I responded, “You should know me better than that by now, Uncle Ernie. I will not apologize for standing up to that asshole prick. He fired Timmie for no damn reason. For telling me to turn to page thirty-three. Come on now. I have standards, and I believe in what I just did. And if either of you think that hogwash-spewing jerk of a douche bag deserves to have his ass kissed to prevent him from liquidating the hell out of the company, then you can have my lip gloss and do it yourself!” I reached into my handbag and held up my lip gloss. Tossing it to Uncle Ernie, I turned away to get on the elevator, yelling, “Feel free to kiss away, gentlemen.”

  I went down to the office where Timmie was cleaning his desk. I apologized to him and asked him to help me clean my desk as well.

  “Abigail, what did you do? Why do I need to help you clean your desk?” Tim asked with narrowed eyebrows, following me into my office.

  “I quit. I’m not going to sit back and let him fire you for no damn reason. Fucking asshole. He did it to get back at me.”

  “No, Abi. You shouldn’t have. I can find work anywhere.”

  “And what, I can’t?”

  “I’m not saying it like that. This is your family’s business, and you worked damn hard to get it to where it is today. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “My dad and stepdad should’ve never merged with him. He’s a fucking asshole!” I blurted again. When I looked up, Zach was there.

  Zach looked intensely at me and then over at Timmie, who was trying to back out of the office.

  “Goldstein, you still here?” Zach asked.

  Tim turned and left my office to finish cleaning his desk. I stood there face-to-face with Zach and looked at him abhorrently. He slammed the door, closed the chocolate-brown linen blinds that hung on the wraparound glass wall, and came close to me.

  “Please step away from me,” I said.

  Zach stepped back and sat on the corner of the desk. “Abigail?” he called out in a mild tone.

  “That’s Ms. Winterfield to you, sir,” I snapped.

  “OK. Ms. Winterfield. Look here, we have business to discuss.”

  “Which part of ‘I quit’ don’t you understand? If you want an official resignation, then I’ll forward one to you this evening, via Lauren. Really, there’s nothing here to discuss.” I turned my back to him and began removing my belonging from the cabinet.

  He sighed deeply and seemed to be thinking hard about what to say next.

  “Abigail, sit down.”

  “Excuse me?” I snapped, turning to face him.

  “Sit your stubborn ass down. My God, you are so goddamn stubborn, Abigail,” he gritted through his teeth.

  “I told you it’s Ms. Wint—”

  He cut me off. “Yeah, yeah. I know, it’s Ms. Winterfield. Note well taken.”

  “You don’t know a thing about me to call me stubborn or address me as Abigail.”

  He sat back down on the corner of my desk with an impish grin, shaking his head. I wanted nothing more than to slap that grin off his face.

  “I bet you want to slap my face, don’t you, Abi…um…Ms. Winterfield?” he asked devilishly.

  I ignored him and asked, “Are you done?”

  Sensing I was serious, he pressed the intercom on my phone to Timmie’s desk.

  “Goldstein, you still here?” he shouted into the intercom.

  “Yes, sir. I’m almost done and out of your hair.”

  “Get in here, now,” he said, looking intently at me, as I returned his gaze quizzically.

  Tim walked in and looked at Zach, waiting for instructions. Zach ignored him and whipped out his cell phone while still staring me intently. Speaking to the person on the other end, he stated, “Timothy Goldstein is rehired and is now assistant to Ms. Abigail Winterfield. His position is secured for as long as Ms. Winterfield stays employed. Salary is …” He removed the phone from his ear and shrugged his shoulders, silently asking me to give a figure. I stood there shocked. I looked at Timmie, who was just as shocked as I was, and shrugged my shoulders in response.

  “Executive assistant, same administrative benefits as Lauren, three weeks paid vacation, and sixty-five thousand—no, seventy thousand per year with quar
terly bonuses,” I demanded, eyebrows raised.

  “Executive benefits, salary seventy thousand, quarterly bonuses, three weeks paid vacation, and title of executive assistant to the president. We will also cover all costs of any administrative workshops, seminars, and any professional renewals. Get this over to Matt so he can draft the contract for Mr. Goldstein to sign today.” Zach ended the call and put his phone down on the desk.

  “So, Mr. Goldstein, your employment here is indefinite until either you or Ms. Winterfield resigns. I hope the offer was generous enough,” he said, holding out his right hand to Timmie.

  “Sir, thank you so much. I am more than pleased with the offer. Thank you.” Timmie shook Zach’s hand.

  “Don’t thank me. Thank Ms. Winterfield, who decided not to quit as long as you were rehired.”

  I looked at Zach, as he had just pulled a fast one on me. By rehiring Timmie, he had cornered me into staying. Timmie hugged and thanked me, and Zach directed him to Joan, who would provide details about his position and have his new employee ID issued.

  Zach closed the door behind Timmie, walked over to me, and whispered in my ear, “Better, baby?” He kissed me gently on my neck.

  I pushed him away. “You son of a bitch. Don’t you ever touch me like that again. You’ll give Timmie his job back, and it’s secured, only if I stay on board? How dare you toy around with people like that? If it isn’t business related, don’t talk to me. You got that?” The words barely made it through my gritted teeth.

  I grabbed my handbag and tried to leave, when Zach stopped me by grabbing my left elbow.

  “What’s the matter now, Abi?” he asked, staring me down intensely.

  “Are you serious, Zach?” I raised my voice in disbelief. “You know what? This is neither the place nor the time. Let’s keep it strictly business. OK?”

  Zach looked at me with narrowed eyebrows and asked, “Strictly business?”

  “Strictly business,” I confirmed without hesitation.

  “Ok, Ms. Winterfield,” he said. “Let’s start off with your salary and benefits then. He handed me a contract.

  I read it and looked up at him. “This is absurd, Zach,” I snarled.

  “Mr. McConnallay to you,” he stated.

  “Mr. McConnallay, sir,” I countered. “This is absurd. What are you trying to prove by offering me all this money and vacation time?”

  “I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. The offer is not negotiable. Do you want it or not?” He held out a pen to me.

  I snatched the pen from his hand and signed the damn contract.

  “Good girl,” he muttered before correcting himself with, “Good decision, Ms. Winterfield.” He continued, “Now let’s focus on the other employees.”

  We sat down and began discussing salaries and promotions. Putting on my eyeglasses, I began working from the computer. During the discussion, he kept licking his lips, softly groaning, and repositioning himself in his seat. He was apparently aroused and felt rather excited, as he finally removed his black suit jacket and kept looking at me with those come-fuck-me-eyes, which I managed to ignore as I focused strictly on business. I was in the middle of justifying a salary increase when he pulled out his cell phone and texted someone.

  WTF? I had texted him over the weekend with no response. Fuck that shit. Business is about to get very personal. He’s probably texting one of his many girlfriends.

  I decided to cross the line and mix personal with business. “Oh, I see your fingers and phone work just fine.”

  “I’m sorry—come again?” he said with narrowed eyebrows.

  I took off my glasses. “I said your fucking fingers and phone work just fine.”

  “Ms. Winterfield, you will restrain from using such language and taking that tone with me. I will not tolerate that,” he countered with an attitude of his own.

  You didn’t seem to mind me using such language on Saturday when you were fucking my brains out and commanding me to use such language.

  “And what are you going to do, Zach, if I continue? Bail out? Run? Ignore me further? Act as if you don’t know me? As if nothing happened between us?”

  “Strictly business, remember? Now finish reading that document and sign off on it,” he snapped.

  I hissed at him, and he raised his eyebrows at me. I rolled my eyes, and he responded, “That’s beneath you, wouldn’t you say?”

  I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.

  You are such an asshole. I really hate you, you fucking egomaniacal bastard. Restrain from using such language, my ass. I can use whatever language I damn well please. And let’s talk about you, and how you use women and then dog them. I trust you to do just that. And …

  “Are you done tongue-lashing?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Are you done tongue-lashing me?”

  Shit! He’s reading my mind again. Read this, asshole …

  “Abigail, get back to work. These documents need to be finalized by three today.”

  I concentrated on the documents, and after some time of working in complete silence, Zach blurted, “You reported to an important meeting forty-eight minutes late. Then you were insubordinate. Why?” Before I could give him an answer, he continued. “Do you really think I’m a jerk, prick, asshole? All those things you called me? And hogwash? Do you really think of me as hogwash?”

  I looked up at him and replied angrily, “I told you that I didn’t get the memo. And why would you wait to the last minute to inform people of such an important meeting anyway?”

  “I gave the memo to your sister at five fifteen yesterday and asked her to pass it on to all employees. Everybody showed up on time, except you, so I find it hard to believe that you didn’t get the memo. I think you’re hot under the collar about this weekend, and that’s why you came late and attacked me the way you did.”

  I shook my head and laughed.

  “What’s so damn funny?” he asked.

  “Lauren didn’t send me the memo because we had a fight at my dad’s yesterday during Sunday dinner. That’s why I was late to your meeting. And about this weekend, please, don’t think so highly of yourself, because I sure as hell don’t.” I got up to use the bathroom.

  “And just where do you think you’re going?”

  “To use the bathroom. Is that OK with you? Or do I need a hall pass for that?”

  Chapter Nine

  When I returned from the bathroom, my dad, stepdad, Uncle Ernie, and Lauren were in my office with Zach. I heard my dad tell Zach that he was sorry for my behavior and that he, my stepdad, and Uncle Ernie believed that it was a mistake for me to have been promoted to president.

  “Clearly she isn’t stable enough to hold such a position,” my dad said. That hurt. That hurt me more than anything in the world.

  My stepdad added, “We honestly thought she would do great as president, but we were wrong. And for that we apologize, greatly, and if you think we misled you to thinking that she was deserving of the position. We are all embarrassed by her conduct today. We think Lauren would fare well as president.”

  Zach was taken aback by my family’s admission, and the evidence was all over his face.

  “So are you telling me that you all believe that it’s better that Abigail not work here?”

  “I think she did a bright thing today by quitting,” my father said, and Lauren nodded her agreement.

  I walked in and sat back behind my desk as though I’d heard nothing.

  Lauren hissed at me, “What are you still doing here?” My stepdad and Uncle Ernie seconded her.

  “Working!” I hissed back. “Is there a reason why you all are in my office?” I asked calmly. I continued before anyone could answer, “Let me guess. You all came here to apologize for my behavior today and admit how embarrassed you are of me.” I was heated and couldn’t hide my anger. “Lauren surely will fare well as president. What do you say, Richard? Oh, and sorry to disappoint you, Adam, perhaps I’m not so bright after all,
but I have already reaccepted my responsibility as president.”

  “That’s enough, Ms. Winterfield,” Zach said, looking at me. He sounded more confused than mad. He continued, “We have business to finish, and Lauren, since you’re here, we’ll start with you. Zach handed Lauren the contract detailing the requirements of the vice president position and asked her to read it. Lauren gawked at the document, and my dad, stepdad, and Uncle Ernie looked on curiously.

  “I’ve been promoted to vice president?” Lauren uttered lowly.

  “If you agree with the salary and benefits, and if you want the position, it is all yours.”

  “Oh God, Mr. McConnallay. This is very generous. Thank you. I won’t let you down. I promise.”

  “Thank your sister. It was her demand and one of her stipulations before accepting her role as president,” Zach told Lauren. She looked at me, stunned. “She will also give you the details of the membership we registered you for with NOMAA and POMAA—two great organizations you’ll want to acquaint yourself with.” If her bottom lip could’ve hit the floor, it would’ve. “Oh, and one more thing, Mrs. Davidson,” Zach continued. “I’m sure you heard your sister’s remark earlier about not getting the memo. Any truth to that?”

  “Go ahead and lie,” I yelled at her.

  “Shut up, Abi!” Zach blurted at me, eyes flashing fire.

  A silence overtook the group as everyone noted that he’d called me Abi, not Ms. Winterfield.

  “Mrs. Davidson. I believe you were about to respond,” Zach said.

  “I might have accidentally, intentionally left her name off the list of attendees,” Lauren said lowly but loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Which one is it, Mrs. Davidson? Accidentally or intentionally?” Zach asked her.

  “Intentionally,” she confirmed with a whisper.

  “Look here, I don’t know and don’t care to know what your and Ms. Winterfield’s personal problems and issues are at home, but don’t bring them here to my and your fathers’ operation. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. McConnallay,” Lauren said.