Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series)

by Ross, Christina

  * * *

  When the pizza boy arrived a moment later, Rhoda was in no condition to answer the door, so I answered it for her, paid the admittedly cute, college-aged guy with my own money, and then carried the pizza into the kitchen.

  “I told you that I would pay,” she said.

  “After that story and what you did for that man today? This one is so on me.”

  * * *

  When we were finished eating, I poured each of us a chilled glass of cabernet sauvignon straight out of the box in the fridge, we went back into the living room, and Rhoda asked me about my day.

  It always seemed a bit funny to me when she asked me how my day went because I generally assumed that she already knew—at least for the most part. After all, when I had first gotten home that evening, she clearly knew that I’d had a rotten day and what some of that had entailed. Still, regardless of what she’d seen or what she knew, I nevertheless always shared everything with her because there were indeed times when she knew nothing at all.

  “Blackwell is a piece of work,” I said.

  “You don’t say? Every time an image of her pops into my head, I see the Black Death cloaked in Chanel.”

  I told her about my day with her.

  “You’ve likely already figured this out, but I saw some of that,” she said. “I’m sorry, Madison. When it was happening, I could feel that it was awful for you. When you left for work this morning, I knew some of what you were in for, but since you’ve told me never to meddle, I didn’t say anything.”

  And I’m glad that she hadn’t. Rhoda was a verified psychic—as true as they came—but I needed to fail and win at life on my own, even if she could spare me from some of the lows before they hit. If I allowed her to intervene, how would I ever grow as a person? I wouldn’t, so we had established our boundaries.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’m the one who insisted that unless you see me being run over by a truck, you’re to say nothing about what’s ahead for me.”

  “You know, I almost considered Blackwell that truck.”

  “I handled her the best that I could. But she was a total bitch, Rhoda.”

  “I know she was. And by the way, who in the hell eats roughage?”

  “That one does.”

  “And who says ‘divoon’?”

  “That one does.”

  “And what in the hell was wrong with what you were wearing today?”

  “Apparently, I’m to show up in couture.”

  “Good luck with that,” she said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  After we discussed more about my encounter with Blackwell, Rhoda just shook her head. “You know that she must have been trying to set you up by giving you only one hour to get all of that done, don’t you?”

  “You think?”

  When Rhoda didn’t answer, I knew that that was indeed the case, which felt like a betrayal to me. What had I done to Blackwell to deserve that kind of treatment?

  “Enough about Blackwell,” I said. “Just reliving that moment makes me want to scream. I’ll end with this—if I’m going to keep this job, I need to step it up. I can’t disappoint her. I need to throw myself into my work, prove to her that I’m worth a shot as her assistant and then a better position at Wenn. Today, I thought for sure that she was going to fire me, but she didn’t. Going forward, I’m going to need to bring my A-game to her, so certain things are going to have to change.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like Brock. Today, he sent me an IM asking me to have coffee with him tomorrow morning at Starbucks in Trump Tower. Naturally, I agreed before the shitstorm with Blackwell struck. Am I attracted to him? Hell yes. Is he worth my job? Hell no. I’m afraid if I don’t shut him down now, he’s going to continue to send me more IMs, and since Blackwell is no fool, there’s a good chance that she’ll find out and have my head for it. I can’t afford that.”

  “Are you going to see him tomorrow?”

  Whenever Rhoda asked me a direct question like that, I knew that she didn’t know the answer to it. And so I told her what I had in mind.

  “I’m going to go, because I need to be honest with him. And because he’s done nothing wrong—this is all on me, not on him—it’s only right to do so face-to-face.”

  “What are you going to say to him?”

  “That I need to be left alone to do my job. After Blackwell chewed me out, he sent me another message telling me that he was sorry about how she’d treated me. It was kind of him to reach out to me like that, but with my job on the line, I can’t have him sending those messages. Each time he does, my computer makes this little dinging sound. Eventually, Blackwell will hear it and wonder who keeps contacting me. And since she’ll have no problem asking me who, what am I supposed to do then? Lie to her? I don’t lie. So that’s not an option. And remember, she’s already warned me to stay away from him. Even though I haven’t been this physically attracted to a man in years, I need to cut and run, or else I’m just setting myself up for . . . what? A new job? A broken heart? Both could happen.”

  “Couldn’t you see him on your own personal time?”

  “It’s not worth the risk, Rhoda. I need to focus on my job and not have my head stuck in the clouds over some good-looking stud.” When I remembered what Blackwell had said about him when he’d first arrived at work this morning, I lifted my hand off the armrest. “And by the way, about the stud. Maybe I’m doing myself a favor and dodging a bullet here, because this morning, Blackwell mentioned his ‘womanizing’ past. For obvious reasons, you can imagine how well that sits with me.”

  “Not every man you meet is going to have ill intentions, Madison.”

  “I understand that. This is my Summer of Resolve, after all, which is why I initially said I’d meet him for coffee. I figured at that point, I’d make up my own mind about him. But now that’s off. Tomorrow, we’ll have a short conversation. I don’t know exactly what I’ll say to him in the moment, but it’s pretty much going to come down to my fear of losing my job because Blackwell has already made her stance perfectly clear when it comes to him, which he doesn’t know. Unlike him, I’m not a Wenn. I don’t have a built-in security net when it comes to my position. He does, so when it comes right down to it, I’m the one who could lose everything here—not him. And I can’t allow that to happen.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The next morning, my aim was to make the best impression I could on Blackwell, so choosing the right outfit was a bit of a chore, given what I had to work with. Still, with Rhoda’s help, we ultimately settled on something I’d found for next to nothing at Century 21 at the beginning of the summer.

  It was an Hervé Léger sleeveless bandage dress in navy blue with a fitted silhouette, a straight hem, and a round neckline that revealed just a trace of cleavage—nothing more.

  The way the dress fit me revealed my curves in ways that yesterday’s suit didn’t, but it was perfectly suitable for work. I wore a light foundation of makeup, a bold red lip, and when I was finished, I thought I looked business-chic, especially with the matching set of navy-blue pumps that looked a whole lot more expensive than they actually were.

  After I’d assessed myself in the bathroom mirror, I went into the living room and found Rhoda sitting on the sofa with a cup of coffee while she read the Post on the coffee table in front of her.

  “They’ve got it all wrong,” she said.

  “What did they get wrong?”

  “Pisces,” she said. “This horoscope of theirs is nothing but fear-mongering. Today is actually going to be a great day for Pisces, not the horror show they’re predicting. Oh, how I hate the Post!” She gave me a once-over. “And by the way, toots, you look like a knockout.”

  “Do you think Blackwell will approve?”

  “How couldn’t she? You’ve totally upped your game.”

  I glanced at my watch. “It’s 5:20,” I said. “I shouldn’t spend the money, but I’m going to take a cab again. I don’t want to
take the subway and arrive for coffee and especially for work looking like a hot mess. Not after yesterday.”

  “Smart choice.” She nodded over at Bessie. “It’s already warm out. I’m afraid that poor Bessie here is going to get a workout today.”

  “I hope we don’t lose her.”

  “That’ll happen next year,” she said. “On the second of June. We’re good until then.”

  “Poor Bessie,” I said, looking over at the trembling air-conditioner. “Already marked with a shelf-life.”

  “We all have one,” Rhoda said as she stood. “And you need to scoot. So, here, give me a hug and a kiss. I know this won’t be easy for you, but you need to do what is right for you. Just know that I’ll be thinking of you.”

  I reached for my oversized bag on the side table in the entryway.

  “Expect me home about two hours later than usual.” I patted my bag, in which were a pair of sneakers and workout clothes. “I’m going to join Wenn Fitness after work and try to work off some of this stress.”

  “And it will. As for me? The very idea of working out has never really worked out for me—obviously.”

  “I love you, Rhoda.”

  “And I love you, too, doll. Just remember that there are plenty of men in Manhattan who have nothing to do with Wenn Enterprises. Your Summer of Resolve is far from being over just yet.”

  * * *

  When the cab dropped me off at Trump Tower, it was just before six. I paid the driver, thanked her for getting me here on time, and stepped out of the car and onto the sunny sidewalk, which already was busy with people, many of whom were getting in a morning run before their workdays began.

  I should be so dedicated, I thought as one young woman with a bouncing blonde ponytail raced past me. Look at her ass—it should be on a Kardashian. May Wenn Fitness do the same for me.

  Even though I’d lapsed in my workouts over the past couple of months, my ass was still in pretty good shape due to the sheer amount of walking I did in the city, and the bandage dress had a fit that tended to lift everything up anyway.

  With my stomach in knots, I turned toward the building and realized that Brock and I hadn’t decided whether to meet outside or inside at Starbucks when I heard his deep, unmistakable voice coming from my right.

  “You made it,” he said.

  I turned to look at him, and damn it if my heart didn’t skip a beat. Today he was wearing a pair of khakis, a white button-front shirt, and a brown tie flecked with hints of blue that mirrored the morning sky. Since his navy blue blazer was hooked over his shoulder with one finger, I got the best look at his body yet, and it was nothing if not lean and muscular. With his dark hair and closely trimmed beard, he reeked of raw masculinity. And just to make me melt a little bit more, his smile not only made it seem as if he was genuinely happy to see me, but also made it difficult to resist even though I knew that I had no choice but to resist it.

  “I’m never late for coffee,” I said.

  “Good to hear,” he said. “Because neither am I. And if you don’t mind my saying so, you look beautiful, Madison.”

  This is not going to go well at all.

  “After yesterday, I had to step it up for Blackwell,” I said.

  “Just for her?”

  Since I blush easily, I felt my face grow warm when he said that, he caught it, and then he placed the palm of his hand against the middle of my back. His hand felt massive to me, and the heat that emanated from it sent chills throughout me despite the warm air.

  “Let’s grab a cup,” he said as we walked toward one of the building’s swinging doors. “I barely slept last night and need the caffeine. After you.”

  We went through the doors and into the lobby, which seemed to encapsulate everything that was wrong and garish about the 1980s. Shiny brass accents abounded. Pink, white-veined Breccia Pernice marble covered the walls and floors. And straight ahead of us was a seven-story waterfall that winked and glittered in the concealed lights shining up from its uneven, blocky facade.

  Starbucks was on the second-floor mezzanine. When we reached it by taking one of the escalators, Brock turned to ask me what I’d like to drink.

  “Large coffee, cream, two sugars.” I reached into my bag to get some cash.

  “I asked you for coffee,” he said, nodding toward my purse. “So, how about if you put that away, find us a table, and I’ll be back in a minute or so?”

  “No, I should pay,” I said, not wanting him to do so knowing what I was about to tell him.

  “I insist.”

  “All right,” I said reluctantly. “Thank you.”

  I turned to look for a free table, found one, and said, “I’ll be over there.”

  “Good to know, but just so you know, I doubt that I would have missed you.”

  * * *

  When he returned, he was wearing his blazer and carrying two large coffees. He put mine down on the table in front of me, and this time, I detected just the faintest hint of cologne, which smelled clean and sexy to me. He took the chair opposite me.

  “Here’s to us newbies,” he said as he removed the lid.

  I peeled off mine, a shot of steam rose up between us, and I lifted my cup in the air. “To us newbies,” I said. “And be careful, because this coffee is hot.”

  “Too hot,” he said when he sipped it. “Don’t drink it just yet. We should let it cool down first.”

  When he straightened in his chair, he was so tall, he sat a good foot above me.

  “Brock,” I said. “We need to talk about what happened yesterday.”

  “That’s one of the things that kept me up last night,” he said. “You weren’t yourself for the rest of the day. I could tell that you were upset—that she’d really gotten to you.”

  “She did.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Madison. I keep making excuses for her, but I realized last night that I shouldn’t be. No one deserves what I heard coming through that door.”

  And at that, my stomach sank.

  “Which means that everyone heard it,” I said. “Perfect.”

  “Believe me, everyone on that floor has already been called out by Blackwell. I might be new on the job, but I know how she can be. If anything, when she was chewing you out, you were getting their sympathy because they’ve all been there before. They know how she is.”

  “Here’s how it is with me,” I said. “I can’t lose my job.”

  “Do you really think that it’s at risk? Just because you were five minutes late?”

  “As unreasonable as that sounds to both of us, yes, I do think that it’s at risk, which I myself can’t risk. I’ve been in Manhattan for two years now, I’ve yet to land a well-paying job that could lead to something more—until now, of course. And I don’t have a lot of money—especially after putting myself through Harvard Business School to get my M.B.A., which sounded like a fantastic idea until I moved here.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Finding the right job hasn’t been easy. The competition here is stiffer than I’d ever imagined, especially since I don’t come from the sort of family that has connections, which can be critical when it comes to getting your foot in the door. I come from a working-class family in Granville, Wisconsin, a place you’ve likely never heard of.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s a blip on a map. But because I lack the sort of connections that most of my peers at Harvard enjoyed when they graduated, it’s been difficult since I arrived here. So, I’m hoping that after yesterday’s fiasco, I’ll eventually be seen as a good fit for Wenn. But with Blackwell as my boss, I’m not entirely sure that’s going to happen if I don’t make a few changes.”

  “What sort of changes?”

  “I’m not sure how to say this,” I said.

  “Just say it.”

  “I want to get to know you better, but I don’t think that I can since Blackwell has already warned me away from you. If I defy her, she’ll toss my ass out
of Wenn. I’m certain of it.”

  His brows knitted together in a mix of confusion—and then anger. “What do you mean she warned you away from me?”

  “Before I go forward, I need to make sure that this conversation is going to stay between us.”

  “Of course it will. I don’t betray people, Madison.”

  “Neither do I, but we don’t know each other well, and I needed to make sure, especially since yesterday I was betrayed by two people—Blackwell herself, and also by Sophia at Tiffany.”

  “I don’t know anything about that, but we’ll discuss it in a moment. First, I want to know what Blackwell said to you.”

  “This is embarrassing.”

  “What’s embarrassing?”

  “She said that she was ‘aware of the shift in the air’ when we first met.”

  “So was I. And I think you were too.”

  I was startled by his admission, but I tried my best not to show it. Naturally, that wasn’t in the cards for me—my cheeks flushed when he said that. Apparently, they were perfectly happy to betray me as well.

  “What did she say?” he repeated.

  “Do you want all of it?”

  “I do.”

  “Yesterday morning, before you arrived for work, she said that, as far as she was concerned, both of us have jobs that are on the line, and because of that, we are being tested, so it’s in our best interests if we simply focus on our work and forget about whatever hormones passed between us. She said that if I was to keep my job—and to climb the ladder at Wenn, which I told her was my goal before she even hired me—she was expecting nothing but focus and results from me. And then she mentioned you. She said that you will only distract me from those goals, which would lead to no good because she wouldn’t tolerate anything that would leave my head in a fog.”