Overworked: An Office Reverse Harem Romance

by Dark Angel

  “Order me one,” I tell her, sighing. All this talk of Misty going on a rampage has made me change my mind on the benefits of getting wasted right after lunch.

  “And another one for my friend!” She adds in a hurry, and the bartender salutes her discretely. Yeah, there’s something going on between these two.

  “What?” I ask her, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Don’t tell me you’re interested.”

  “Interested?” She responds, cocking one eyebrow as if she expected more of me. “Please, Cara, I’m not interested. I’ve been sleeping with that guy for the past week. And, let me tell you, he knows how to get his freak on between the sheets. For instance, he --”

  “Okay, okay!” I cry out with a laugh. “I get it, I don’t need the details.”

  “Are you sure? Because they’re the good kind of details, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” I continue, turning around on my seat to take a better look at the bartender. “What’s his name?” I ask her as I watch him prepare our drinks. He seems to be in his early twenties, but his youthful face seems to have a hint of danger hidden in there; he’s wearing a white button up shirt, and it’s tight enough for me to see that he’s the kind of guy that loves to spend time at the gym. Renee knows how to choose guys, that’s for sure; even though she’s isn’t exactly picky, she always seems to go for the hottest guy in the room.

  “Michael… Or John. I’m not entirely sure.”

  “You’re crazy,” I laugh, trying to act discreetly as Michael/John brings us our martinis. This time, I notice him brushing his fingers against Renee’s hands as he gives her the martini.

  “No, you’re the one dealing with a crazy person,” she nods, taking a sip out of her martini. I do the same, allowing the alcohol to burn its way down my throat. “But, really… Why do you want to drop Misty? This is the first time I hear you talking of dropping a major client.”

  “Liam isn’t the kind of guy I was expecting, Renee. Despite what the whole world seems to think of him, he’s actually a nice guy, you know? He doesn’t deserve to have his heart broken just because Misty’s bitter.”

  “Uh-oh. You know what that sounds like, don’t you?” She asks me, and I just sigh. Yeah, I know exactly what it sounds like. “You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

  “I.... Oh, screw it. Yes, I am. But it’s not like things can work out between the two of us, you know? Our relationship started because Misty wanted me to break his heart, and I seriously doubt things will be the same after he finds out,” I tell her, that familiar desperation creeping in once more: I can’t imagine how it’ll be like without having Liam in my life. God, I sound just like a teenager, don’t I?

  “You think too much, Cara,” Renee whispers softly. “That’s your problem. You should try and follow your heart on this one.”

  “That’s how people end up on my client list,” I scoff, feeling more miserable than I have ever felt, and that’s when I feel my phone vibrating. I pick it up from the table, and there’s a text from my assistant in there: Come ASAP, it reads, Misty’s here.

  “Oh, crap, Misty’s at the office,” I tell Renee, finishing my martini and then standing up. I grab my wallet to pay, but Renee just waves me down.

  “I got this,” she says, and I stuff my wallet inside my purse again. “Just… go do what you have to do.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You’ll figure it out,” she replies, looking into my eyes and smiling softly. “You always figure it out.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, even though this time I’m not sure if I can find a solution for this mess.

  Either way, it’s time to face Misty.

  Cara

  “She’s already inside,” my assistant says, pointing at my office’s door and shrugging. “I tried to stop her, but…” She shrugs again, and I just nod at her, fully knowing that there’s no stopping a maniac like Misty.

  “Alright, I’ll handle her,” I say, more to myself than to my assistant. I walk toward the door, place my hand on the handle, and take a deep breath before turning it.

  “Misty?” I call her as I step inside the office, carefully closing the door behind me. The office’s lights are turned off, and I go for the switch and flick it up. The moment the light floods the room, my eyes find Misty immediately - she’s sitting in my chair, her legs up on my desk, and her small Yorkie, Cupcake, is sitting on her lap with a bored expression. Her lips are a straight line of contempt, desperation, and rage… and all that at the same time.

  “Why haven’t you answered my calls?” She asks me right away, her voice soft but already cracking. She’s seconds away from crying or screaming - or probably these two at the same time.

  “I’ve been busy with --”

  “Why did you ignore me?” She continues, almost as if she hadn’t heard me, and takes her legs off my desk. Jumping up to her feet, she closes the distance between me and her, and I feel the scent of alcohol hanging in the air. Yeah, more than just angry, she’s also drunk. But that was to be expected, right? “WHY DOES EVERYONE IGNORE ME?!” She shouts out loud, throwing both her hands up in the air and closing her eyes for a long moment. “THIS ISN’T FAIR!”

  “Misty, calm down. Why don’t you --”

  “CALM DOWN? CALM DOWN?! My heart is broken, Cara! I demand retribution!” She continues hysterically, waving one fist into the air. She gestures wildly as she speaks, clutching Cupcake against her chest and almost suffocating him with her huge breasts.

  Pacing around my office, her heels clicking ominously against the floor, she looks like a tiger looking for a way out of his cage.

  “Please, Misty, sit down,” I try, waving at the couch at the end of the room, but that just makes her pace faster now.

  “I can’t! I can’t sit down… I can’t eat or sleep! I can’t do anything until Liam’s crushed!” She continues, talking so fast that I can barely understand anything she’s saying.

  I need to do something before she goes berserk.

  Walking up to my desk, I grab her purse and open it. I rummage through it, and it doesn’t take me more than two seconds to find her flask of vodka. Grabbing it, I then walk up to Misty and grab her arm; I force her to sit down on the couch, and then I open the flask and shove it into her hands.

  Still ranting about the fire and brimstone that’s her daily life, she finally quiets down as she brings the flask to her lips, drinking heartily. Just like a baby - if babies drank vodka, that is.

  Cupcake has slipped out from her embrace and has already fallen asleep next to her, curled into a tiny ball of fur. I have no idea how the dog does it - I’d go insane if I had to be around Misty 24/7.

  “Misty, listen,” I start, taking a deep breath as I try to find the right words. “You can’t be my client anymore,” I tell her, deciding to get real right from the start.

  Taking the flask out from her lips, she looks at me with her wide bloodshot eyes.

  “What?”

  “I can’t find anything on Liam,” I tell her softly, feeling as if I’m trying to disarm a nuclear bomb that’s about to go off. “I just can’t do what you’ve asked me. I’m sorry, Misty, I failed,” I continue, choosing the safest route available.

  “No,” she whispers, going up to her feet as her eyes keep on widening menacingly. “NO! NO! NO!” She wails, throwing her head back and yanking on her own hair.

  Alright, get on board - crazy train has arrived into town.

  “Misty, please, sit down so that we --”

  “NOOOO!” She continues, gritting her teeth as tears stream down her face. Then, as if something snapped inside her head, she narrows her eyes and turns her gaze to me, her demeanor going from wild and loose to cool and controlled in a fraction of a second. “Quit thinking with your pussy, Cara,” she tells me, her words hitting me like a brick.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Stop thinking with your pussy. You’re probably just blinded by his eight-p
ack and huge cock, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes,” she whispers, taking one step toward me and narrowing her eyes into slits. She’s so close that the smell of vodka in her breath is probably enough to get me drunk.

  “You’re mistaken, Misty, it’s nothing like that. I simply can’t find--”

  “Oh, please. Don’t try to fool me. It’s as clear as vodka to me - you’re protecting him! Well, you better start doing your job, or else I’m going to expose you online and on TV. How would you like to see Lust Muscle going up in flames? I bet all those broken hearted guys that you crushed and humiliated would bandy up together to destroy you, wouldn’t they? I bet they can sue you for emotional distress.”

  “Misty, stop. You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy? You might be doing well, but I doubt that even you would be able to survive if Lust Muscle were to be exposed. The cost of surviving in court would bury you,” she tells me with a grin, toying me like a cat would do to a mouse.

  I stare into her eyes, rage welling up inside of me, but Misty just keeps on grinning wildly.

  “I want results, Cara. Or else,” she finishes off and then grabs her purse from my desk and bolts out of my office like a hurricane. Then, a few seconds later, she’s back in the doorway. “Cupcake, cutie! Come on with mommy!” She chirps happily, almost as if she is a different woman now, and her Yorkie jumps out of the couch and trots after her.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, sinking down into the couch as she slams my office door. Noticing her open flask forgotten on the couch, I grab it and take a few sips, closing my eyes as the vodka spills into my bloodstream.

  How the hell am I going to get out of this mess?

  Cara

  “I’m so fucked,” I mutter under my breath again, leaning back against the couch. I throw my head back and close my eyes, allowing the darkness to take over my mind. Taking Misty’s flask back to my lips, I take an hearty sip… and then another. It’s so much easier to deal with all this with a slight buzz going on.

  Even though Misty has just threatened me, there’s no way I can keep on fooling Liam. Not after knowing him like I do. I might not be the most righteous woman on Earth, but even I have limits.

  Of course, that’s easier to think than to do - I don’t want to break his heart, but if I don’t do it… Everything I worked so long and hard for will be at risk. And I sure as hell don’t want to throw it all away on a whim. I mean, I’ve sacrificed all of my adult life to Lust Muscle, trying to grow it as a respectable company. I can’t abandon my company this easily.

  But how the hell am I supposed to do it, when saving my business means breaking two hearts at once - mine and Liam’s? God, I can’t believe that after so many years of mocking those women that fall in love, I’ve became one of them. Karma really is a screwed up thing, isn’t it?

  Ah, I can’t even think right now.

  Rubbing my temples with my thumbs, I take deep breathes and finally open my eyes again. I look at my wristwatch and, even though it’s barely 3 pm, I make a decision: I’m going to get out of here and go home.

  Yeah, maybe I’m hiding from the world, but so what? It’s not like I’m doing any good here, in the office. If I remain here, soon enough my brain will melt inside my skull and that’d definitely be the end of Lust Muscle.

  Forcing myself to stand up, I drag my feet across my office and step outside, already feeling the vodka wrapping itself around my brain like a heavy blanket.

  “I’m going home for the day,” I tell my assistant, and she looks at me, surprised. This is the first time in years that I’m leaving the office earlier just so I can go home - whenever I leave early, I do it because there’s a job I’m working on. “You can take the rest of the day off,” I tell her, and then the surprise in her face is replaced by an exultant expression. Everybody loves to take the afternoon off.

  “Thank you! But, uhm, are you okay?” She adds, and I just force myself to smile at her.

  “I’m fine! But we deserve a few hours off, don’t we? Let’s enjoy the rest of the day,” I tell her, even though I know for a certainty that I won’t be enjoying my afternoon off - unless ‘enjoying the afternoon’ means getting drunk and depressed while watching romantic comedies from the 90s.

  Walking out of my office floor, I step into the elevator and press the button that’ll carry me all the way down; meanwhile, I grab my phone and call for an Uber. Lucky for me, there’s a free car just around the block, and it’s already waiting for me the moment I step one foot outside the building.

  Thirty minutes later and I’m already home, a deep sadness taking over me, wrapping itself around my heart and brain like one of these snakes that crush you before it finally decides to devour you, bones and all.

  Taking my dress off, my limbs suddenly feeling as heavy as concrete, I take my old college pajamas out of my wardrobe and slip inside them. I grab a blanket and then drag it after me to the living room; there, I just collapse on my couch and grab the remote.

  I put The Biggest Licker on, and prepare to forget about the real world for the duration of the show - there’s something about watching billionaires fighting for their chance at deflowering a virgin while your own life is in disarray. There’s just something about that show that makes you believe that, maybe, you also have a shot at an happily ever after. Although, right now, I doubt that’s how this story will end for me.

  It’s hard to accept that I’m on the verge of losing Liam. I don’t know how it happened, but somewhere along the way I started to believe that things would work out in the end. Oh, I was so naive.

  But it was bound to happen - no man has ever made me feel like he does… And I just can’t stand the thought of being apart from him. But what did I expect would happen? I deserve this. After all, I fooled him just so I could break his heart… And I did it for money.

  Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? I spent my whole adult life crushing men’s hearts and ruining their lives without breaking a sweat, and all for what? Just so I could buy myself expensive clothes and live in a modern apartment? I always told myself that Lust Muscle was about empowering women and going after bad men… But now I can’t help but wonder: maybe I’m as bad as the men I’ve destroyed.

  “Oh, crap,” I whisper as I watch my phone’s screen light up. It’s sitting on my coffee table, and it’s vibrating so hard that, if I don’t grab it, it’s going to tumble down onto the floor.

  Reaching for it, my heart sinks down as I watch Liam’s name blinking on the screen. My mouth goes dry, and my heart starts racing inside my chest. I can’t run forever, can I? Sooner or later, I’ll have to face him.

  But I’m not ready - not right now.

  And so I shut the phone down and put it in flight mode, effectively cutting my only connection to the outside world.

  Right now, I just want to be alone.

  Cara

  I can’t believe it’s already been one day.

  I even slept on the couch last night, for God’s sake! Instead of going to work this morning, I simply dragged myself to bed and collapsed there. I slept till noon, had some Thai delivered for lunch, and then crawled back to the couch. I spent the whole day laying here, watching old Friends reruns and old movies from the 90s, and I did it all with a bowl of ice-cream on my lap. Yup, that’s right, I’m turning into a living cliché.

  And that’s where I am right now, staring at the screen but not really processing what’s going on in there. I mean, I don’t even know what the hell I’m watching right now.

  My brain is just too busy, you know? And, despite all that busyness, I still haven’t reached a conclusion. A reasonable conclusion, I mean, since eloping with Liam to the Bahamas isn’t that reasonable. This is the classical paralysis-by-analysis situation, and you can trust me when I tell that having your life in a limbo isn’t fun. Nope, not at all.

  And, to make matters, worse, Liam has already called me again - twice in the morning, and twice after lunch. I turned off flight mode earlier today, but now I already regret
doing so - I’ve been avoiding his calls all the same, staring at my phone screen until it goes dark again, and that really hasn’t helped to improve my mood.

  I might be hiding right now but, sooner or later, I’ll have to talk to him.

  God, this isn’t like me at all. Where’s the old Cara? The one that shoots first and asks questions later? The one that always knows what to do, even when the going gets tough? Right now, I look like the sappy female lead in a romantic comedy - except, of course, there’s nothing comic about this whole thing.

  Okay, okay… I know, I need to get my shit together, and I need to do it fast. Allowing this situation to drag endlessly won’t do me no good. In the end, depressed Cara won’t solve anything - what I need is to bring the old Cara back. Or, at least, try to.

  Alright, screw it, it’s time for me to face the music.

  Grabbing my phone, I unlock the screen and write Liam a text. I need to see you. Can you come over? I write, and then grit my teeth and force myself to press Send. A minute later, and his reply comes in: sure, will be there soon.

  Kicking the blanket off me, I jump up to my feet and march straight into my bedroom. I take my pajamas off, take a long warm shower, and then squeeze myself inside a pretty decent red dress - I don’t want to look too sexy for when Liam arrives.

  Yup, that’s right… I’m going to break up with him, and I’ll do it because it’s what I must do to protect my company... and because it’s also the right thing to do. As hard as it might be, in the end, it’ll be for the best. After all, I started this whole relationship under false pretenses, and Liam deserves better than that.

  And so, in the end, Misty will get what she wants. But, even though I’m going to break up with him, I sure as hell won’t do it in a humiliating way. Let Misty think whatever she wants, but I’m not going to attack Liam viciously. No, I’ll just cut things off swift and painlessly - or so I hope.

  “Liam, I think it’s better we go our separate ways,” I start, running the tip of my tongue over my lips as I stare into the full body mirror in my bedroom, trying to keep a straight face. “We’re not right for each other and, as fun as this was, it’s time we end this. I’m sorry, I really am,” I continue, rehearsing my breakup speech and failing miserably. Why do the words coming out of my mouth sound like the most obvious lie ever told?