by Amy Brent
“You followed me, and I would like to know what hunch brought you to the conclusion that you needed to,” I said.
“I want what’s best for this company. What I do in order to get it is none of your business,” he said.
“I would caution you to take a step back and think about who you’re talking to,” I said. “Now, I’m only going to ask you one more time, Michael. What hunch did you have that cause you to follow me?”
“An interoffice romance is—”
“Answer the fucking question, Mike,” I said.
“You’ve been consistently distracted and I figured it had something to do with the chick you were screwing.”
“So, you followed me around for a little while in order to figure out who I was sticking my dick in?” I asked.
“No, just to the—”
My eyes grew steely as I held Michael’s gaze. He took a small step back before drawing in a slow breath through his nose. He knew I had him cornered. If there was one thing you didn’t do, it was mess with me. If there was one tactic you didn’t try, it was to corner me. If you want to create a trap—if you want to your trap to work, to be deadly, to give you what you want—there is one thing you never, ever put in a trap.
Me.
“How in the world could you sacrifice everything we’ve worked for just to go against your own policy with some chick with big tits, L?”
“I would advise you to use her actual name, Michael. After all, I’m grooming her to stand alongside you in boardroom situations,” I said.
“Oh, you’re grooming her for something, alright,” he said.
“That thin wire you’re standing on is swaying in the breeze,” I said. “Talk to me like a man, or get out.”
“I want what’s best for this company, L. I always have,” he said. “But, an interoffice romance? You, the man who fucking fires people over it? Do you even understand what you’re opening yourself up to? What you’re opening up this company to!?”
“I’m well aware, yes,” I said. “Let me remind you that I built this company, and I didn’t do it by not knowing the potential consequences of my decisions.”
“You’re playing with some serious fire. You could go down. We could all go down with you. Does that even matter to you?” he asked.
“It does,” I said.
“How could you do this?” he asked. “How could you do this to me—to us?”
“Right now, the only mistake I see here is how I admitted to seeing someone. Had I simply fought you off instead of trusting you, we wouldn’t be standing here right now,” I said.
“So, you think this is my fault?” he asked. “It’s not my fault you’re sticking your dick in—”
“You will not address the interactions I have with Charlie in that manner,” I said.
“This isn’t a formal business meeting, L. This is serious business,” he said.
“Doesn’t serious business occur in formal business meetings?” I asked.
“Fuck me, L. Really? The snarkiness now? Do you really not see what’s happening? Do you not know how much bullshit this is gonna rain down?”
“I appreciate your concern, Michael. I understand you’re concerned about the company, but I’d like to think you’re concerned about me as your friend. But, I’ve weighed the good against the bad. I’ve done the cost analysis. Then, I made my choice, just like any adult would.”
“And the entire company as well as your reputation is worth—”
“Watch your words,” I said.
“Is worth sleeping with a coworker?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said plainly
Michael shook his head before he drew his bottom lip between his teeth. I knew he was angry, and he had every right to be. There was nothing about what he was saying that was wrong. I was sacrificing the company’s reputation as well as my own to have this relationship with Charlie.
The difference at this point was the fact that I was in love with her, and I refused to believe that was a bad thing.
“This isn’t over. And when it blows up in your face, you know where to find me,” he said.
Michael turned on his heels and stormed out of the room, leaving me holding my lukewarm coffee. I wasn’t going to stop seeing Charlie—not by a longshot. But, now that I knew Michael somehow felt the need to follow me around, we were going to have to be more discreet than ever.
However, Michael had a point. This wasn’t just everything I had worked for, this was everything he had worked for, too. He had stood by me through the ups and downs of this company ever since I had the crazy idea back when I was still a bright eyed, ignorant teenager. He was there through all the risky deals and the failed properties, and I was playing with his reputation as well.
His company.
His job.
Shit. I needed to message Charlie. If he knew, and if Charlie encountered him this morning, then there was a good chance Charlie was able to pick up on his body language.
I went to my phone and saw I had a missed message from her. It was simple and to the point, informing me that she was under the impression Michael knew. She was checking up on me, making sure I was alright.
So, I shot her back a message.
Confirmed. He knows. You also have some properties to look at over lunch.
I’d get her the details of our lunch rendezvous later. Right now, I needed to make sure she was alright. Especially before we walked into a meeting this afternoon. Michael wasn’t gonna be the wise choice to attend the contractor meeting with the way he was feeling right now, so I was going to need Charlie to sub in for him this afternoon.
But, when I sat back down at my desk, I saw that my secretary had left a sticky note on my laptop.
The last of the files for the project will be delayed. Charlie went home sick. There are 15 left, all the rest have been double-checked and entered into the system by both of us.
Fuck.
Charlie knew.
She knew and it made her sick.
I had to get to Charlie and talk with her. I felt the burner phone vibrate, but I was already grabbing my coat and briefcase. If she wasn’t feeling well, then she went home. If she wasn’t feeling well, then I should probably stop to get her some soup or something.
I didn’t have time. I didn’t have time to be nice or romantic or caring right now. Something happened with Charlie this morning and I needed to figure out what it was.
“Everything alright, Mr. James?” my secretary asked.
“Yes. I’ll be out of the office until the contractor meeting this afternoon. Tell Michael he won’t be necessary, and tell him he can go home early if he wishes,” I said.
“Right away, sir. Anything else?” she asked.
“Treat yourself to a long lunch. You haven’t had one in a while,” I said.
“Thank you, Mr. James.”
And just as I stepped into the elevator and turned around, I caught Michael’s glare as he stepped out of his office and walked over to my beckoning secretary.
Chapter 26
Charlie
The entire time I drove back to my apartment I felt sick to my stomach. My head was spinning and my hands were shaking, the panic rising in my throat threatened another heaving session. I had to pull over twice just to take a few deep breaths, but when I finally got into my apartment I realized I was out of cat food.
Johnson was meowing up a storm and I didn’t have anything I could fix him temporarily, so I grabbed my purse and headed back for my car. This was good, though—better than locking myself up in my apartment. I could get out, breathe in some fresh air, get some cat food and some stuff for my stomach, and do a bit of grocery shopping. L had been treating me to so many things that I hadn’t felt the need to shop since we started this whole thing, and I was running low on the basics.
I grabbed a grocery cart and started walking down the aisles. I chose some vegetables for a stir-fry, some bread for sandwiches, and grabbed the essential meats and spices I’d need in ord
er to make up a few dishes. I usually cooked one massive dish at the end of the week, then divvied it out into containers I could heat up whenever I got home. It was quick, it was usually healthier, and it meant less work for me with the long days I was pulling.
My stomach started rolling with nausea again and I had to stop and bend over. My head was swimming and I tried to remember what I’d had for breakfast, and realized the issue. Not only did Michael make me feel uncomfortable, but when he did, I’d lost everything in my stomach, except perhaps the every churning supply of acid that kept building up.
I needed to grab something I could eat quickly while I finished my shopping.
I reached for a bag of chips that was hanging out on the end of the cat food aisle, but even that idea didn’t seem too appealing. I placed them in my cart anyway, hoping that my appetite would return by the time I got home. I found myself wandering beside the back corner of the grocery store where the bathrooms were, and I had to dash back in it to throw up again.
Alright, something was not right. This wasn’t just nerves.
“Soup,” I said between my heaves. “Some soup’ll be good.”
I came out of the bathroom and tried to find the soup aisle, but found myself in front of the family planning aisle instead. I started wracking my brain, trying to figure out if I needed tampons or feminine wipes at my apartment. The last time I had my period I had been running low, but I couldn’t remember what I had been running low on.
Wait. When was the last time I’d had my period?
I pulled out my phone and navigated over to my cycle timer. I pulled it up and realized I was a little over two weeks late for my period and I felt my blood run cold. That wasn’t possible. I was incredibly careful with my birth control. I had a timer on my phone to alert me two hours before, one hour before, as well as exactly on the nose as to when I had to take my birth control pill. It was like clockwork, and had been for years.
I walked down the aisle and grabbed both tampons and feminine wipes before I stopped at the pregnancy tests. Could it be possible? I mean, I had gone through a great deal of stress these past few weeks, and it wasn’t unlike me to skip periods sometimes because of it. It had happened to me several times when I first started at L’s company, in fact. I was pulling long hours and late nights, and I ended up skipping two periods before I even realized it.
It had to be the stress at work. Between the Helsinki trip, the training I was undergoing and this massive project I was being bombarded with, I was under nothing but stress. And sure, L was an incredible stress reliever, but my sleep was suffering as well. Interrupted by dreams of paperwork only for me to scramble out of bed and write down notes. I had been like that for years—dedicated to my work and growing my future in real estate development.
Well, until L came along, anyway. Apparently, I was willing to throw all that away just to love the man.
I thought back to all the nights we’d ever had sex. I thought about our date last night and how I had taken my pill before I’d gotten to the marina. I thought about the night we danced in my living room and how I’d taken it just before he’d gotten there. I thought back all the way to the Helsinki trip and how I had taken it before we’d even gotten off the damn plane!
Then, I thought back to that night at the bar. The night he was supposedly done with everything before we salsa danced. The night we stumbled into a cab, went up to my apartment, and completely devoured each other’s bodies.
I came home from work, changed into my clothes, thought it would be funny to tease him by not wearing any underwear, and I should have reached for my birth control pill. Shaking my head, I knew it was ridiculous exercise, since that wasn’t how they worked anyway.
But still, I just couldn’t remember if I had skipped any pills. But one missed pill shouldn’t have mattered, and I would have noticed the next day, right? I took them like clockwork. With the exception of L, my life was very orderly, and reliable. Wasn’t it? Even as I said it, I recalled in the hubbub of travel with L, I started taking pills out of two different packs, so it was entirely possible I could have missed pills and not realized it.
I scanned the pregnancy tests and felt my hands begin to shake. I reached up and plucked one that had three separate tests in it and tossed it into my cart. If I wasn’t pregnant, I needed to go see a doctor to make sure I was alright.
But, if I was pregnant—
Holy shit, what would a child between L and I be like? I knew I was being an idiot about this, it had to be stress, but still. Ellison James was handsome, headstrong, successful, and highly intelligent. I was determined, driven, and very competitive. A child who inherited even a few of the character traits in that combination would be absolutely unstoppable.
I began pushing my cart as I daydreamed about the physical features our child would have. They would most certainly have L’s dark hair. My red hair was an incredibly recessive trait, but maybe our child would luck out and have a few of my cute little freckles around their nose. Maybe they’d have my green eyes along with L’s steely gaze. Or maybe we’d have a long-legged, beautiful daughter, with L’s height and my curves.
She’d be a knockout, for sure.
I got up to the cash register and began piling things onto the moving belt. I felt my hands begin to tremble as I saw the pregnancy tests, and the reality of the situation hit me.
What if I was pregnant with L’s child? Everyone would know. There would be no more hiding what had been going on between the two of us. I’d probably lose my job if we wanted to keep it secret, or I’d have to lie about who the father was if I wanted to keep working there. L would never be able to be the father he wanted to be because we’d be sneaking around in the shadows.
It would ruin him, and it would ruin us.
By the time I swiped my card and got out of there, tears were flowing down my cheeks. It was getting hard to breathe as I threw the groceries into the back of my car, and I threw up one last time alongside the back tire before I climbed into the driver’s seat. I took it nice and easy back to my apartment, deep breathing through my nausea, but I knew what I had to do when I got home.
I had to take one of those tests.
Chapter 27
Ellison
I got to my car and swung my things in before I barreled out onto the street. With each passing second that Charlie didn’t answer, I grew more and more worried about her. Maybe she really was sick, or maybe Michael had said something to her that made her sick. I cursed my coworker, wishing he’d have just kept his fucking nose out of my business. Charlie and I were adults and we were going about this the only way we knew how. I knew the promises I’d made to this company-- the sacrifices I’d made throughout my career. Why the fuck couldn’t I also be in love?
Why the fuck couldn’t I also have Charlie?
I raced down the road and pulled myself into Charlie’s apartment complex. I threw open my door, not bothering to look around for her car, and I started up the steps to her place. I stood at her door, taking a few deep breaths before I raised my hand to knock, and it gave me time to really digest the place. It was rundown and dark. Half the lights in the stairwell didn’t work and I could hear a couple fighting a couple floors below her. She lived in a part of town no one should deem safe enough for their girlfriend, and I figured I could make that part of the conversation we were about to have.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Charlie was my girlfriend, and I wanted her to live in a better part of town.
I smiled, chuckling lightly to myself at the thought. I don’t think anyone would’ve ever thought Ellison James would’ve given two shits about where some woman lived. Then again, I don’t think anyone would’ve ever taken me for the type to fall in love.
But, that was the wonderful thing about Charlie. She never assumed to know my personality based on my media reputation or the rumors around the company. She’d taken the time to get to know who I was while not dampening who she was for a second. Sh
e was unabashedly herself, and I raised my fist to knock on the door as I thought forward to all the things we would enjoy together.
Vacations.
Trips to the tropics.
Bikini weekends where I’d marvel at how her body spilled out of them.
Fancy dinners where her humor shone at the forefront.
Concert halls where I could watch her-
“Can I help you?”
I hadn’t even realized the door had opened, but when a man was standing on the other side, I was shocked. He looked like a bit of an idiot—scrawny, tall, and a bit shaggy. His bug eyes were staring back at me with a creepy sort of curiosity, and he rolled his eyes up and down my form before I cleared my throat and spoke.
“I’m sorry. I must have the wrong apartment. Which apartment is Miss Charlene’s?” I asked.
“Nope! Got the right one,” the man said. “And you are—?”
“Adam,” I lied. “One of Charlie’s coworkers.”
“Ah, at the real estate development company. I’m Rick, Charlie’s live-in boyfriend.”
My entire world came to a halt in that split second. I held my hand out to shake his hand, trying to be as polite as possible while I kept the confusion off my face. I drew in deep, silent breaths through my lips, trying desperately to stay calm while my mind swirled and melted into a puddle at my feet.