by C. Shell
I take a few threatening steps towards Trey and he immediately backs up, hands going out in front of him as if they are enough to stop me. “Wait, wait! Give me a chance to explain.”
I cock my head in irritation and he does not miss beat as he continues. “I don’t find you funny and until this whole stupid fucked up mess with Kelly happened, you’ve never been stupid either.” Rubbing at the back of his neck he gives me a hard look. “You have never been one to let anything stop you. Hell, after our parents died, we grew up with shit for a life and a handful of reasons to never amount to anything. You took what we had and turned it into a college degree and a company worth millions.”
“What’s your point?”
He sighs. “My point is that you need to stop mopping around here and start planning how to once again turn a bad situation into gold. Get your head out of your ass and do something. If she is so damn special, then don’t let her slip through your fingers.”
Nodding my head, I can’t help but laugh a little. Not because I find anything he said funny, but because he’s right. I hate it when he is right.
“You’re right,” I snap. Losing what little patience I have left, I throw the ball back at him with force. He’s quick. With a spin he ducks in time, managing to only get grazed on the arm, instead of the chest hit I was aiming for. I grin, hearing his sharp intake of breath. At least I’m not the only one now feeling beat up.
“I’ve got some phone call to make. Have fun tonight with Sasha, and do yourself a favor, and stay out of my way for a while,” I yell back as I head back inside to my office. Without checking or caring what time it is, I grab my cellphone, and call the one person I should have phoned hours ago.
It takes a few rings but I smile when I hear her annoyed voice pick up the line. “I know for the sake of my business I need to be cordial, but I am finding it hard to do so right now. You’ve put me in a bad spot. What do you want Daemon?”
“Hi Cherie. It’s great to hear we are on the same page. We need to talk business.” I growl into the line.
Chapter 5 – Kelly
I woke up alone back in my bed.
Even, Dimples seems to have vanished on me. My arms stretch wide, feeling nothing but emptiness and cool sheets. I should be used to this considering how many nights I slept alone before Daemon, came strolling into my life, but for some odd reason, not having a large warm body curled up around me, breathing against my skin, brothers the hell out of me.
Grunting in discontent, I throw the warm comforter off me and stomp into the kitchen in search of some strong coffee. I don’t need to look at the clock to know that I have just enough time to indulge in one cup, take a quick shower, and dress for work. I have the most annoying, punctual, internal clock that never fails to have me up and going just after the sun breaks the horizon. One the weekends, I curse it, but on days like this, I relish not waking in a panic while running around the house like a crazed mad woman.
Work? Oh shit!
I sit in a dazed fog. Do I have a still have a job? God, I hope I’m not unemployed. I meant to call and speak with Cherie over the weekend about it, but with everything else going on, I conveniently let it slip my mind. Jolting across the kitchen, I snatch my phone off the charger and power it up. It feels like time stands still while I wait for the little white apple symbol to shine on the screen. My phone immediately starts buzzing and dinging with a multitude of new emails, texts, and a few missed call notifications.
I numbly glance over the lot of them. I unsurprisingly missed a call from Tony and Sasha, but the third one makes my brows raise. My mom. I mentally remind myself to call her later, and move on to the texts. Once again I get a handful from Tony and Sasha, each saying good morning and reminding me, to get my ass out of bed and moving. Sasha asks for a lunch date at Zeppo’s Subs & More at noon. I respond with a, “Sure, meet you there.” The next text makes my heart skip a few beats.
Cherie: Don’t be late to work. Meeting in my office at 9:00.
That’s good right?
She didn’t say I was fired or demoted. Maybe she is waiting until the meeting to throw the axe at me. My ramped thoughts are driving me crazy. My stomach hurts, my palms are sweaty, and throwing a hand on my forehead, I imagine I feel a slight fever coming on.
Maybe I should call in sick today?
I mentally slap myself for being such a coward. “Be a tiger, not a scared kitty-kat,” I silently repeat to myself, while throwing myself into auto-pilot. Following my normal weekday routine, I begin the day by making a strong pot of coffee. The stronger the better.
My mind races as I get dressed. Spreading a thin coat of mascara on my lashes, I idly wonder if anyone at the office has a clue about everything that has happened. Will they stare at me today, or go about their business, oblivious at the imaginary guillotine hanging over my head?
Giving up on my unruly hair, I pull it into a high ponytail, and spritz it with enough hairspray, to keep it up, and out of my face for most of the day. Making myself a cup of coffee in my favorite travel mug, I grab my keys and purse, and run out of the door towards my little red car.
I am so glad to have my car back. It might not be as luxurious or grand as the one Daemon loaned me, but it’s mine, and that is all that matters. The drive to work takes longer than anticipated due to an overturned apple truck on the inside loop. By the time I pull into the parking lot, I’m so close to being late. I don’t recommend running in heels, but on days like this, a girl does what a girl has to do. I run. I just need to make to my office before Charity starts spreading nasty rumors about me always being late.
I really need a nicer receptionist.
The office is super quiet today. The only sounds I hear as I do a fast walk through the maze of desks is the clicking of my own high heeled shoes and the light tapping of fingers against a keyboard. To my upmost surprise and relief, no one looks my way as I walk past their cubicles, towards my office. Even Charity barely glances my way when I move by her. I wouldn’t mind a simple, “Hello,” or “How was your weekend, Kelly?”, but I will take silence any day over snide remarks, and outright cattiness.
Entering my own little sanctuary, I soundly close the door and slump against the cool wood exterior, letting lose the breath I’ve been secretly holding. I blink rapidly, trying to re-gain control of my breathing. I need to find that inner strength I keep promising myself is hidden somewhere under all my shaky limbs and crazy emotions.
Snapping out of my irrational mini-freak out, I school my features into passivity, and move to my desk, determined to have a good day. Sitting down, I turn my attention onto my desk, or more importantly, the huge glass vase of lilac tulips covering one large corner of it.
How in the hell did I miss that?
A small vanilla card with my name written on the outside envelope sticks out of the top, taunting me to read it. My fingers anxiously tap against my desk, wanting nothing more than to reach up and snag it, but to my credit, I turn away from it, and push it towards the back of my mind. I need to focus today and whatever is written on that card could very easily unravel me. I’ll read it later, when I’m alone, and can break down without the world being witness to it. Besides, I refuse to let him slink his way back into my life again with gifts and fancy words.
Been there and done that!
I send a message to Charity, asking her to bring me a cup of coffee, and spend the next hour working through my emails, and returning calls that I have been putting off. I don’t normally like to ignore a client, but every so often, you get that one client that you just can’t please. I swear I could follow every single one of Mrs. Danish’s requests to the line, clean her house, do her laundry, and birth her first child for her, and it would still not be enough to make the lady crack a smile.
I’m just finishing up a winded conversation with Mrs. Danish over her wanting to change, for the fifth time, the paint color in her newly re-designed study, when my cell phone starts dancing across my desk. Sneaking a peak at t
he screen, I see my calendar alert flashing, letting me know my appointment with Cherie is in 10 minutes.
I look around my desk hoping this will not be the last time I get to sit behind it. I love my job. It’s everything I have ever wanted, and the work I’ve done here, proves that I’m right where I belong. Standing slowly on jittery legs, I try taking a few calming breathes. I silently wish I had something stronger than coffee right now. A little false bravado would be welcomed. I need all the help I can get.
As I walk out, I stop by Charity’s desk. Even as I stand less than five feet from her, she continues typing on her computer, never turning her head or acknowledging my presence. I silently vow to make the little twerp run her ass off the rest of the day. She can stay busy fetching me anything from cups of coffee to running down special antique ink pens that haven’t been made in the last twenty years. I secretly have a fetish for expensive fountain pens. Not even Sasha or Tony know how far my obsession goes. Some women love shoes. I love unique fountain pens.
“Charity,” I snap, my voice cold and harsh. I hate to be kept waiting and she damn well knows it.
Batting her overly long fake lashes, she finally turns and gives me a big fake smile. “Yes, Kelly?”
I grimace. Her syrupy voice grinds away at my overly stroked nerves. If nothing else, dealing with Charity, has pushed all my anxiety away and brought forth my confidence, and a sureness I haven’t felt in the last few days. It’s nice to see Charity is still good for something besides showing too much cleavage and pissing me off.
“I’m going to a meeting in Cherie’s office. Please forward all my calls to my voice mail. If you need anything you can page me, otherwise I should be back in within the hour.”
She gives me a curt nod and before turning her attention back to her computer screen. The bitch actually has the nerve to try and dismiss me. Mumbling a list of colorful obscenities under my breath, I stalk down hall until I reach Cherie’s receptionist, Betty. Betty has been with the company for well over fifteen years and has a wonderful grandmother quality about her that makes you love her instantly. She’s a beautiful woman inside and out, with perfectly silver streaked hair and red rimmed glasses that highlight her rich toned skin and sparking grey eyes. Last Christmas she made me a whole tin full of homemade sugar cookies. They were amazing. Besides the few Sasha stole, I ate the whole lot of them in one sitting. I should have been ashamed, but I wasn’t.
Upon seeing me walk up she instantly perks up and greets me with a genuine happy smile. “You are looking lovely today, Kelly.”
“Thanks Betty. As always you do too. How is your husband doing?” Betty’s husband Dan is a recently retired police officer. He’s been having a hard time finding things to keep himself busy since he left the force.
She makes a good-natured huffing noise that brings a smile to my face. “Dan is going to drive me into the mad house if he doesn’t find a hobby soon and learn to stick with it. So far he has tried fishing, golf, and flying those small airplanes that cost a fortune to make.” Shaking her head side-to-side she gives me an exasperated look. “You would think the man would enjoy some down time, but oh-no, not Dan. Such a silly old man,” she laughs.
I can’t help but laugh along with her. She and Dan’s marriage remind me a lot of my mom and dads. Strong, solid, and totally dedicated to each other. I want that. I always thought Gary and I would have that one day and look how that turned out.
“Maybe marriage is just not in the cards for me”, I think sadly.
Before we have a chance to say anymore, Betty’s intercom beeps and Cherie’s voice floats over it. “Betty, if that is Kelly I hear out there. Please send her on in.”
Betty gives me a small smile and bends over pushing a button on the phone. Speaking loudly into the receiver she answers, “Yes, Ms. Cherie. I will send her in now.”
I give Betty a small wave good-bye and stride past her, walking down the small hall, to the large imposing double wood doors. Not giving myself a chance to freak-out or run the other way, I push on through, and quickly shut the door behind me. I even give it a little jiggle on the handles to make sure they are completely closed. Privacy is a big concern of mine these days. I am not exactly sure what Cherie wants to talk to me about today, but the last thing I need is one of the other designers in this office overhearing it.
You know, I had a lot of thoughts about what I would find when I entered Cherie’s office. I imagined a stack of resignation papers, a confidentiality agreement for me to sign, and other board members sitting in on our meeting while giving me unapproved glances here and there. All that would be annoying, but acceptable. What I’m met with boggles my mind.
Not surprising, Daemon sits front and center with Cherie tucked behind her desk. Besides them, the room is filled with carts lining the walls, covered with an assortment of food and drinks, a stacked pyramid of new luggage stands to the side (the expensive kind), and to top it all off, a short man in his mid-fifties, that I’ve never met before who is dressed in a three piece suit and tie, stands off to the side with his head bowed.
I think I have just entered the twilight zone.
Chapter 6
I don’t know what to say.
My mouth opens, closes, and opens again. Nothing comes out except a shaky exhale. The scene before me is so odd, and out of place, it’s comical. Noticing my lack of thought process, Cherie waves me over to an empty chair in front of her, which I gladly take.
“Thanks for coming in today, Kelly. You look very nice today.” She says thoughtfully.
“Umm, thanks Cherie. You also,” I sputter, trying my hardest to keep my eyes trained on her and not the devilishly handsome man sitting to my left.
It’s useless. His gaze scorches right through me. He could be clear across the room and I would still feel the warmth those clear jade eyes of his instills within me. It doesn’t help that I’m still reeling from the frenzy he worked me into yesterday. Pushing down my ramping hormones, I glance around the room once again, taking in the extreme craziness of it all, and letting out a nervous laugh.
“What is all this?” I ask, directing my question to Cherie.
With a roll of her eyes, she gives me an awkward smile, which does nothing to ease my nervousness. “I guess you could call this your going away present.”
My eyes blink in surprise. This can’t be happening. I turn to Daemon, expecting him to jump in and help me, instead I find him reclined in his seat, acting as if everything is fine, and my world is not combusting in front of my face. Taking in his smug smirk and confident posture, I want nothing more than to smack the hell out of him. Instead of turning to violence, I laugh. It’s not a happy sound. In fact, my voice sounds unnaturally high pitched and hysterical. That is exactly how I feel. Not to mention, pissed, angry, sad, and close to losing it.
I fist the sides of the chair. I work at putting my jumbled thoughts together so I can get the words I need to say out.
“You just had to step in didn’t you? Thanks for nothing,” I huff. I narrow my eyes on him, making him see the hurt and fury running though me. I should have stopped him yesterday. I knew him going to Cherie and demanding to keep me on his project would only lead to more trouble. I don’t want to lose my job.
Deep down I know he is not the only one at blame. I went to him on my own. I chose to accept his gifts, sleep with him, invite him into my life, and fall in love with him. Despite all that, I can’t push past the anger coursing through me. I screwed up and this is my punishment. Through the buzzing in my ears I can hear Cherie trying to talk to me, but I can’t make out her words. I blink against the black spots blurring my vision. I think I’m going to faint.
Shit. Shit. Shit
I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing. I’ve got to get control of myself. Someone starts gently shaking me and rubbing a soothing hand up and down my back. I turn my head and see Cherie’s face. She has squatted down beside me to try and calm me. Her face is etched with worry and I instantly feel
bad for dragging her into the middle of my problems.
The slow breathing is helping. Pushing through my initial panic, I sit upright in my chair, push a hand through my hair, and lick my now parched lips. I don’t have to turn around to know he is close behind me. I can feel him. I’m thankful he hasn’t touched me. If he does, I know I will fall apart, and that definitely won’t help in getting my job back.
“Cherie,” I begin, giving her a small smile. “Please give me another chance. I know I screwed up and broke office policy, but I am one hell of an interior designer, and I promise to follow every rule from here on out.”
I want to say more, but Cherie is already shaking her head back and forth, urging me to stop. I don’t want to stop! I need this job and if I have to beg and plead then so be it. I would prefer not to do it in front of Daemon, but screw him. The bastard has yet to say a damn word to help me out.
Asshat!
“Kelly, I’m sorry,” Cherie begins, not giving me a chance to speak. “I messed this all up. I should have worded that better.” I stare at her more confused than ever. “You’re not being fired, sweetie.” She stops and pats my knee, letting her words sink in. “Kelly, you’re going on a company trip for a two weeks. I hope you like Spain,” she says grinning from ear to ear.
“What?” I yell whisper. This is not making any sense. “Spain? Why the hell am I going to Spain?”
“To help me pick out furniture for my office,” Daemon says, finally joining in on our conversation.
“In Spain?” I repeat. I am having one hell of a time wrapping my head around what is going on. I’m relieved to know that I won’t be filing for unemployment anytime soon, but now I’m faced with a whole new situation that is causing my heart rate to fly off the charts.
I palm my forehead as everything around me starts to click into place. I glare at Daemon. I really underestimated him. Out of all the dirty tricks he has pulled this tops them all. “And I guess that means you plan on joining me on this little company trip abroad, Mr. Scott?”