With what looks to be a night without Laura to talk to, I pull open my fridge for a beer before heading downstairs to the make-shift man cave where I keep all my tools and a 60-inch flat screen for football games.
“Will you take me home?”
Fuck yes.
I about trip over myself to grab my phone from the kitchen counter and manage to answer on the first ring.
“Hey Laura,” I say, trying my best not to breath into the receiver to give her any indication I’ve been freaking out or tip her off to what a stalker I am.
“Hey Michael,” she says. It’s strange, hearing her call me by my birth name. Yeah, Micah’s a nickname I chose for myself because it sounded more unique. And with anyone else, I’d correct her. But with Laura, Michael sounds good to me. Shit, she could call me Mickey.
“I was worried about you. Didn’t see you this morning and then I heard about the promotion. That explained things. Congratulations! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Sorry. Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Okay, what’s up?”
“I can’t talk to you anymore.”
“Why is that?” I know the answer, of course. And if I wasn’t talking to an innocent sweetheart right now, my fist would be through a wall. Stay cool.
“Cora doesn’t want me talking to you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but listen, you can’t say I called you, and you can’t mention us talking the other night. I told her I only was in your office to get my briefcase. I’m really sorry about this, but I really need this job. There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.”
“Laura, I’m not here to hurt you. We can still talk. We don’t have to tell her. No one even needs to know.”
“Yeah. I can’t do that. She’ll find out.”
“But how?”
“She’s Cora. She knows everything and she’s pretty scary.”
I laugh. “Yes. That she is. But what if I talked to her? Told her to cut it out?”
“No. Please don’t. She’ll fire me. I can’t handle that. It would make things so uncomfortable. Besides, you know the company policy. We aren’t allowed to have relationships outside of work with coworkers.”
I’m tempted to run down the list of the ten plus men Cora herself has screwed just on floors seven through ten. I consider mentioning that Derek’s engaged to a woman who started out as a receptionist. Instead, I say nothing. I need time to think. There’s no way this is going down. Cora can win this battle, but she will not win the war. No fucking way. Laura is mine no matter what the letters behind her name.
“Okay. I guess if that’s what you want. I enjoyed our talk the other night and was hoping to get to know you better.”
“I know. Me too. I’m really sorry about this. It sucks.”
“Yep. It sure does.”
I ball my left hand into a fist and grind my teeth, trying to think of something else to say. I wish I could tell her I know about her kid or that Cora’s only doing this out of jealousy. But I can’t. Knowing about her kid makes me look like a creeper. Highlighting Her Highness’s crush on me will only scare her more.
“Okay then. Bye, Michael. I’ll see you around I guess.”
“Laura? Take care of yourself, please. Cora can be a little mean. If you ever need anything, just know that your secrets are safe with me. I have a few of my own you know. And I care about you. I really do.”
I feel like a fool for even saying the words. But it’s in moments like this, I’ve learned after Sabrina, that you have to put it all out there. You never know when you’re going to lose a person, and the last thing you ever want is to live knowing you had words to say, but not the balls to say them.
“Thanks Michael. You’re an amazing person. I wish this was different.”
“You’re welcome. Congrats on your promotion and don’t worry about it.”
Silence cuts through my too-big for one person, rundown home. I consider calling Brianna from the bar just to make this easier. I decide against it. She always wants to stay over after, and I can’t do another night of listening to her yammer about her life dreams and how she’s sure she’s the next singing sensation. She once told me she is positive American Idol will discover her at the karaoke bar. I can’t do it. Not tonight.
Chugging down a Miller Light, I’m in no mood for dinner. I turn my phone off for the night, not interested in the text messages coming in from Mom about my father’s inability to find a new job. And I’m certainly not feeling in the mood for small talk with women I have no interest in getting to know. I decide to finish Finley’s reports and call it an early night. Sometimes, you just have to know when to cut your losses. For now, there’s nothing I can do about Laura. But that’s not permanent. This much I know for sure. To get to Laura, I’m going to have to go straight through Cora. And I will.
Pulling out my laptop, I plop down on the leather couch left over from my college apartment with Brady. I’ve never seen any point in replacing it until now. As my itchy, healing back hits the crisp leather, I wonder if it’s simply a matter of reorganizing my goals. Fuck the bike. Fuck the car. Screw the bigger place. I could just take what I’ve got and renovate. New furniture, a fresh coat of paint, even a haircut. I just need a change.
It’s that moment, when my eyes catch on the date, that it clicks.
September 28. The day I lost Sabrina. How could I have forgotten it? Too many years? Too much pain to see it?
Disgusted with myself, I jump off the couch and force myself to march down the hall to my bedroom. There, standing in a full-length mirror, I turn around. I look slowly over my shoulder and take my very first look at her. Danny’s done a remarkable job. The ink on my back that stares back at me is an exact duplicate of the way I remember her—black eyes, freckles across her tiny nose, and that crooked smile. My beautiful Sabrina.
It starts slowly, like a tidal wave building for a shitshow. And when it comes, it comes on hard. For the first time since I lost her, I sob.
***
Morning comes on like a case of beer pong regret. Unusually thankful for the long commute, I spend the first few hours of my day just trying to get by. Tonight, I have no intention of going to the bar. Instead, I’ve agreed to go to dinner with my parents, and I’m okay with that for a change. I don’t want to be around strangers right now. Making it through the day will be hard enough.
With Finley all set on his reports and Her Highness hooked up with the Corskey account, I’m hoping to get through the afternoon without hitches. In robot mode, I have no use for drama today. Cora, who has already made two trips in a too-short skirt to my office, seems to be getting the hint. Mostly, she’s stayed away. I’m sure it didn’t hurt when I told her to send her new PA down for paperwork. I doubt it fed her ego much when I told her she’s now doing the job of a peon. But whatever.
The one good thing about She-Devil chasing my cock like it’s the only one in the building she hasn’t screwed—probably is beside Bob’s—is that at least I have job security. But that won’t last long. Eventually, she’ll be tired of me. She’ll throw me away when I refuse to kneel at her throne. That’s what they do. That’s nothing new. My own mother stopped speaking to me in tenth through twelfth grades when I refused to lie to my father about her latest fling. She took it personally like I didn’t love her because I wouldn’t choose. With Cora, it’ll be even worse. The second she finds a new dick to chase, I’ll be on my way out faster than Ryan Musen, who refused to cheat on his wife with her.
I sigh, pulling up my favorite job listings site and scroll. As long as I can stay ahead of her, I’ll be fine. I’m not sure I want to hang around in a building where I risk run-ins with Laura—the girl I know wants me as bad as I do her but can’t because Cora has to be the queen bee at all times. God forbid any other woman is desired.
Holy shit. That’s it. If I don’t work for Graham Incorporated, what can Cora really do? Shit. I’ll get Laura a track phone. She ca
n’t keep dibs on that.
Like magic, the fog clears. I know what I need to do. I don’t think about it. I don’t care. On impulse like only my father’s son could have, I grab a pen and write the words big and bold in black sharpie marker. They are simple. I quit. I rifle through my drawers, grabbing only the personal shit I care about. I move to the tiny office closet and grab my barely-used briefcase, my extra suit coat, and the few pictures from my desk. I stuff everything in the case and return to my desk for the note. When I’m sure I have everything, I log out of all my accounts.
I run, not walk and not jog, through the hall like I’m on the back of my now-retired bike. I slam the elevator up arrow. Inside, I hit twelve. Cora’s in a conference meeting with Derek and Finley and probably Laura, too, going over the Jensen account. When the elevator lurches open, on autopilot, I run to 309.
I don’t knock. Not once. Not twice. Not three times. Instead, I barge right in. Bending down, I slap the note on the table right in front of Cora. I don’t wait to see her expression. Instead, I look up at red-faced, open-mouthed Laura and wink. Then, I walk right the fuck out.
“See ya,” I call to them all from the doorway. I jog back down the hall to the elevator. I don’t look back. I don’t care. I’m not going in that direction anyway. I’ve never felt more like myself. Welcome back, Michael.
Chapter Twelve
Cora
The room is eerily silent as everyone stares at me. But I’m paying them no attention as my eyes are glued to the piece of paper Micah just slammed down in front of me. Two little words with a huge impact. I have no idea what’s going on or how to fix this one, but I know this is not how this game ends. Not for me. Not for him. I bet he feels like he has the upper hand in all of this, whatever the fuck this is. My eyes pop up to the others, who are still staring at me like I’m about to lose my shit. I would. Trust me, I would have blown a fucking fuse if it were anyone else. Again, it’s not just anyone else. It’s Micah Duclos, and I swear to God if I have to fight to the death to get him, I will.
“What are you looking at? Finish the fucking meeting!” I bark at them.
Derek just eyes me, silently telling me that this will be discussed later. Which is fine because whatever that was, it was done on his own free will. They all saw it, and if Bob tries to say otherwise, well then he has a rude awakening. For the rest of the meeting everyone steals glances in my direction and Derek, who never fucking stutters, is stuttering like a crazy because he keeps stopping mid-sentence to gawk at me. I get it; I’m a bitch. Normally, my reaction would be completely opposite to this, but the gears are turning, and I’m trying to plan my next move so HR doesn’t get my ass. Not because of his actions, but because of what I may or may not do next.
When the meeting is over, I tell Laura to gather my things and take them back to my office and to type out all the notes she took. With her new salary, she got a pretty new computer, which helps. That should keep her busy for a few hours. After my things have been brought to me, I sit down at my desk and wait for Laura to leave my office. Instead of walking out right away, she stands by the door. I know what she is about to ask, and I’m going to lie. She would never find out the truth anyway. If she knows what’s good for her, she will stay the fuck away from Micah.
“What?” I snap at her, irritated.
“Is everything, um, is everything okay with…”
“That, my dear, is none of your business. I want those notes on my desk before I leave.” Laura nods and rushes out the door, leaving it slightly open. I’m too aggravated to get up and close it, so I just ignore it. I don’t know why this man has me so on edge, but it’s driving me up the wall and damn near batshit crazy. There is something about him that makes me want him so damn bad, but I can’t have him. Not yet. My fight isn’t over just because he quit. He will see that when I pursue something, I don’t give up.
Time ticks by slowly. Mainly because I’m watching the clock hands swirl around, waiting for them to hit five, so I can leave. I would leave early, again, but I have too much shit to do from both Corskey account and the other crap that Finley has piled on me. I swear that man is helpless. The only thing he seems to be good at is adjusting his dick at inappropriate times.
Rubbing my temples, I look at the clock again and see that there are only thirty minutes left until five. Screw it. I’m leaving. Derek can wait until tomorrow to get the notes on Corskey and Finley can fuck off. I have my mind made up and being the go-getter I am, I will go fucking get what I want. Micah won’t be quitting. Not from here. I won’t allow it. Logging into my account, I search for Micheal Duclos and type in that he is on paid leave due to a family emergency. That should give me enough time to convince him to come back and that’s a decent reason for Bob to leave me the hell alone.
Right when I power down my laptop and turn off my desk lamp, Derek walks in with Laura right behind him. Whatever it is they want, they better hurry. “Yes?”
“Laura can go first.” Derek says, stepping aside to let Laura walk up to me.
“The notes you wanted. And I also configured a few numbers, too. Save you some time tomorrow, so Finley doesn’t bother you as much.”
She extends her hand that is holding the manilla file, and I take it. Opening it, I skim over her notes and quite honestly, I’m impressed. But I won’t tell her that. God, what has gotten into me?
“All right then. Is that all?” I ask, not looking up at her.
“Yes, Miss Graham,” she replies meekly.
“Good. Be here tomorrow around seven-thirty. I need you to go over a few things for Altman and the stocks he just invested in.”
I turn my attention to Derek, “Now you.”
Laura walks out quietly, and Derek waits for her to close the door.
“What the hell was that about?”
“What was what about?” I retort angrily.
“First, you hire an intern as your PA. Mind you, she hasn’t even been here a year! Then Micah! What is your deal?”
I have to hide my smirk.When Derek gets mad, he looks just like our father with a nasty vein protruding out of his forehead.
“I hired her because she’s good. If you bothered to go over some of the work she has done for me so far that I faxed you, you would know that. As for Micah. I’m fixing that as we speak,” I reply coolly.
I may be a bitch but I’m not as quick-tempered as Derek. While he displays his anger through emotion and small outbursts like this, I just hold it in and use my words. Words can do a lot more damage than any pair of hands can. And my mouth is a shotgun, easy to trigger and capable of damage almost unrepairable damage.
Derek runs his hands through his hair and sighs. “Do not fuck this company up, Coocky Bear. I swear to the heavens, I will have your ass on a silver platter if you don’t fix whatever the hell just happened.”
I laugh. “Oh, big brother. Your empty threats don’t scare me. And have I ever let you down?”
“That’s besi. . .”
“Have I, Derek?” I say, interrupting him.
“No.”
“Exactly. Now, go home. Your fiance is waiting for you.” I smile at him, giving his cheek a quick kiss. Walking over to my office door, I open it and wait for him to walk out. He looks at me and shakes his head.
“Sometimes I really don’t like you.”
“No one does,” I shrug.
I lock my office and head toward the elevators. I’m beyond ready to strip bare and have a relaxing shower. Today needs to be washed off and tomorrow needs to hurry up and get here because I have a plan. It’s something I’ve never done before. I’m kicking myself for actually wanting to go through with it, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And I am a desperate woman when it comes to this man.
Chapter Thirteen
I know it’s going to be a good day when I’m up before the housekeeper gets here. Medila usually wakes me up for work when she gets here super early, but not today. I am up, coffee has been made, yoga has been done,
and breakfast is waiting for me. Egg white veggie omelet with turkey sausage, whole wheat English muffin, and orange juice. Medila has been my housekeeper since I bought this house. She is good to me, and in turn, I am good to her. She probably gets paid more than any housekeeper should, but it beats having to do anything around the house, and I’m supplying a job for someone in need. Bleeding heart and all that shit.
I thank Medila for my food and sit down, going through my emails. I reply to a few of them before texting Sean to see what he has come up. This job that I have him doing now pays more than any other I have had him do. I texted him yesterday about what I needed to have done, and he agreed after he saw the six figures in bold numbers gawking at him on his phone screen. No more than five minutes pass before my phone chimes, and I see a text and email from Sean. This man is good. Opening the text first, it reads: One night doesn’t allow for a lot of information, but what I emailed you is what I was able to get. I will have more tomorrow.
He better have more tomorrow. Shit, he better have a lot more than a few measly pictures. Scrolling through the email he sent, that is all I see. Three photos. All twenty minutes apart and all of Micah working on some broken down motorbike. Shirtless, sweaty, and all muscle. Dammit, I’m not even near him and my thighs… I let out a huff and put my phone down. I need to finish my food before it gets cold. Too. Fucking. Late. Getting up from the table, I walk over to the microwave and put my plate of food inside, pushing the number two. My phone chimes again, but this time, it’s Derek. Instead of texting him back, I call. It rings four times before he picks up.
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