by R. J. Lewis
Talk about a clusterfuck.
I spent the day dusting off the cobwebs in my head and navigating through programs. It was a good thing I passed my units in class with flying colours because the numbers came naturally to me. Meanwhile the dick sat next to me and made a round of calls about professional matters. When he was finished, he left the club on business errands and didn’t come back until midday right before I was done for the day.
He’d paced into the office and threw a sandwich on my desk in front of me.
“The boys said you didn’t have lunch,” he said, taking a seat while flipping through a folder in his hands.
I peered at him and waited for the punch-line that he never delivered. Did he seriously get me a sandwich because I missed lunch? Or was there some other cruel reason behind this supposed innocent gesture?
Maybe it was poisoned.
I eyed the sandwich warily, and the smell of ham and cheese wafted into my nostrils. My stomach tightened in hunger. I decided I would wait ten minutes. Ten minutes before I dived in. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking I was going to eat it straight away. I needed to be casual about this and–
Scratch that. I made it two minutes.
It was the best sandwich of my life.
After I finished, I packed away my things and waited for Moustache Man to take me home. While I waited, Borden hadn’t looked at me once. He was too immersed in the black folder in his hands. Seeing him seated there all normal and concentrated and… normal was weird. Very weird.
“Before you leave, write down your cell phone number for me, doll,” he suddenly ordered.
“Why?” I asked defensively.
“Because I said so.”
Wouldn’t a man like him, in control of everything, already have it? I decided I wouldn’t argue with him, though. Maybe that’s what he wanted. I simply wrote down my number and slid it over his desk in front of him. He picked up the paper and placed it over his opened folder.
“Not very nice penmanship, Lynne,” he remarked.
I rolled my eyes and didn’t reply. Whatever, Borden.
“Is that a three or an eight? I can’t tell from your writing.”
“Three,” I strained out.
“Hmm, looks like an eight is all.”
I exhaled slowly and counted to ten.
“Maybe you should write more legibly.”
No reply.
“Do you agree, Lynne? That you should write more legibly?”
Oh, I was going to fucking kill him. I looked at him while he was still concentrated on the contents of his folder.
“I’ll write more legibly if that pleases you, Mr Borden.”
He didn’t respond, but the corners of his lips just barely twisted up.
When Moustache Man opened the door and walked in, I jumped out of my seat and hurriedly grabbed my things. I wanted to get the hell out as soon as possible and I made it three steps when his voice rang out.
“Don’t be so hasty. I expect a good bye before you leave.”
I stopped mid-step and turned to him. “Good bye, Mr Borden,” I practically spat out.
Still looking down, he said casually, “Come over here, Lynne.”
With a heavy sigh, I made my way over to him and stopped beside his desk.
“A little closer than that, doll.”
I took another step closer until I was a foot away from his chair. I looked down at his perfect profile and plump lips that had risen again. It was such a shame someone so handsome had to be such an asshole.
“Now bend over, Lynne, kiss my cheek and tell me good bye.”
All of me tensed. I gritted my teeth as his order ran through my mind trying to quickly find ways to get out of this. If I got anymore closer to him I feared I’d scratch his eyes out.
Hush, hush, came the little voice of logic in my head. He wants a reaction. Don’t give him one.
I slowly bent over, and the smell of him immediately assaulted my senses. He smelled… good. Like juniper and lavender and bergamot combined with something spicy. I had to hold my breath because raiding Borden’s scent felt personal somehow.
The flawless smooth skin of his cheek met my lips briefly. I gave him a quick kiss before backing away. He didn’t flinch at my touch and was still reading. I stood up straight and willed myself to breathe. Nervous tingles ran rampant throughout my body and I had to fight against the urge to wipe my lips of his touch. I didn’t like the way he blurred my senses.
“Now you tell me goodbye,” he said.
With a quavering voice, I replied, “Goodbye.”
When he didn’t respond, I turned away on wobbly legs and left.
Put this on repeat the next four days and that was my first week in the bag. I got my first paycheck that Friday and it was triple the amount at my diner job. It was the strangest feeling staring at my bank account balance and seeing a number I’d never thought I’d see. I felt proud, and not just for doing well at my job, but for dealing with Borden. Someone needed to give me a medal.
If you wanted to discount the demand at the end of the day for me to kiss his cheek (which I couldn’t entirely do), he kept it professional between us. Most mornings he was out of the office, and when he was in, he was making phone calls. Nothing about what he did screamed illegal, everything was ordinary and business related. His reputation as some thug was clearly overdone – that, or he was just damn good at hiding it.
I kept to myself and didn’t converse with anybody. While the employees were very friendly when they saw me, I refrained from talking and escaped any kind of social situation. I didn’t want to trust anyone. I didn’t want to be friendly, either. The only times I left my office were to go to the bathroom or buy lunch at a luncheon down the block.
I saw the redheaded woman – Linda was her name – frequently when I left the office and even when I was in it. I learned on her visits to see Borden she was the manager of the club and that surprised me. I initially thought she was keeping Borden’s bed warm, but their conversations were short and business related. And though she stared fondly at him at times she visited the office, he barely glanced in her direction.
While she never spoke to me directly, her eyes constantly followed me. It wasn’t a glare or anything, but it was thoughtful and I didn’t like the attention.
That weekend I let Granny in on the news of my new job.
“Congratulations,” she cried, literally. “Finally some good luck has come your way! You deserve it.”
Yeah, except luck was called Borden, and I wasn’t sure I deserved the job. It wasn’t as though I had applied for it and had my fingers crossed.
Still.
It was paying my bills. I could afford groceries and my stomach was full. So it didn’t matter how I ended up with the job, the truth was it was worth having. I could endure Borden because, even if he was at times so annoying I wanted to smash his head into an ice block, he was tolerable too.
And it wasn’t like I was in a room with an ugly ogre either. My shallowness took advantage of his good looks and it eased the annoyance more times than I could count.
The second week went by.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
Until the kiss at the end of the day was a robotic gesture that I did without thought or care. And dare I say I stopped holding my breath when my lips touched his cheek because his scent was nice and non-threatening.
I learned to discern Borden quickly being in that room with him for so many hours in the week. I sensed his moods and knew when he was angry or civil. During his civil moments, he let me have several breaks throughout the day. And during his angry fits, he’d fill up a bowl of pistachios on his desk and eat every single one of them while debating out loud who to fire. He’d trash the room with wrappers and half eaten food. Then he’d bring the poor employee in and intimidate them Borden-style, forcing me to watch.
I knew he drank water by the gallon and hated coffee.
“I
can’t stand the smell of that shit,” he’d said once, motioning to the plastic cup of coffee on my desk. “It’s fucking beans, you know that?”
“Coffee beans, Mr Borden,” I icily replied.
“Beans are fucking beans, Emma.”
“Are you going to complain about it every single time I’m in here with my cup of coffee?”
“If the putrid smell of it reaches my nose, then yeah.”
I stopped drinking coffee in the office.
I knew that he was usually happy after a workout because he’d come to the office in the mornings with an extra oomph in his step, freshly showered with his gym bag over his shoulder. On one particular occasion, I’d stepped into the office in the morning ten minutes earlier and found him changing his top behind his desk, from a workout tee to a long sleeved sweater. Just before he’d thrown it on, he turned to me, watching me enter, and his blue eyes looked alive. I’d nearly had a heart attack at how huge he was. Tattoos took up almost every part of his muscular torso. He looked like a goddamn heavyweight boxer.
“See something you like?” was the first thing he cheekily asked.
I glared at him, red-faced and mortified, and hurried to my desk.
“I can change around you more often, if you’d like,” he added, his eyes drilled to the side of my face.
“That wouldn’t be very professional, now would it, Mr Borden?” I icily replied.
He chuckled, and I cringed at how obviously attracted I was to him. Needless to say, that was the last time I showed up early.
I knew that he only wore suits on days he made deals outside the office, and the one other place he frequented most was the port to look over the books. He liked to read the news on his computer. He bought me a sandwich for lunch on the days he was office-bound and never asked me what I wanted because he knew already – and I hated how expectant I’d become of these deliveries from him, or the fact I liked it.
I knew many things, but the one that got me the most was knowing that even when he was out of the office – no matter how occupied he might be – he would come back even minutes before I was due to leave and sit down at his desk and wait for his goodbye kiss. That he would watch me sometimes when he didn’t think I knew, and his gaze was so penetrating, I thought I could physically feel the heat of it.
It was a weird feeling knowing I was being watched and pretending I didn’t. Sometimes my heart squeezed and my stomach twisted, but not angrily. It was like a rush shot up in my veins that I was somehow fascinating enough to be observed by someone like him.
Yes, he was a criminal. Yes, he was a rage case lunatic. Yes, he made my skin crawl when I thought about the rumours that people spoke of him. But being around him was an entirely different thing, I discovered. With the expectant kisses at the end of the day, and his watchful gaze, and the irritating conversations he’d sometimes have with me, the combination of them all solidified my ease in his presence.
Marcus Borden no longer frightened me because Marcus Borden liked me.
Seventeen
Emma
“We have this horribly shitty replacement,” said Blythe on the other end of the phone. “I swear, I want to bitch slap her fifty times a day. I can’t believe Denny the Dick fired you like that all those weeks ago! I wish you’d come back because I’m sure he’d give you back your position with the way things are going and they are not going well.”
I brought the covers over me as I rested back on the couch. The chill in the air was abominable.
“I wouldn’t go back if he offered me all the gold in the world. Besides, I really need a better paying job, Blythe,” I told her. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with a useless person.”
“Yeah, I’d have done the same. How is your job anyway?”
“Yeah, it’s good. Everyone keeps to themselves.”
“But what’s it like working for Borden? Isn’t he scary as hell?”
I smiled reminiscently. “He is beyond scary as hell when he wants to be. But he’s also… normal.” That word was still weird on my tongue. Normal. Nor-mal.
“How’s his business going?”
I let out a breath. “Crazy, Blythe. The man makes so much money at Owls alone. I checked out the books for the other businesses, and it’s unbelievable. The man should write a book about turning profit.”
“Is he at the club a lot?”
“Yeah, always. That’s where he bases himself. Owls was his first place of business, so I imagine that’s where he feels the most comfortable working.”
“That’s insane. I can’t believe you’re working for him.”
“Me neither.”
She was quiet for a moment, and then she said with great curiosity, “So are you like… comfortable around him?”
What a weird question to ask.
“Um, I guess. Why?”
“Like comfortable enough that you’d ask him for some VIP passes?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed shortly. “Are you serious right now?”
“Just ask! That’s all I’m saying. Ask. I hear the VIP area goes crazy at his club, and since you’re all relaxed with him, maybe he’ll let us all in.”
I tapped a finger against my chin, thinking. “What do you mean ‘us’?”
“You’re obviously coming with me. I miss you. Don’t say no either. Not happening.”
Hmm. Could I really go out after the last disastrous incident, at the same club to boot?
But I felt fine at the idea. Maybe it was because I knew the club inside and out. I knew the people, knew Borden – which was the most important thing of all – and it was familiar to me.
“I know a hot guy,” she sang. “And you’ll totally love him. He’s so funny, and hot. Did I mention that already?”
“Alright,” I said before my brain could stop me with its logical bullshit, because brains were overrated. “I’ll let you know the asshole’s answer tomorrow.”
She squealed. I cringed in nerves.
How well this would go was dependent on what mood he was going to be in.
*
“The fuck you looking at, doll?”
His voice startled me and I jumped in my chair that was swivelled in his direction.
I didn’t reply. I nervously clasped my hands and looked at my screen for several long moments, and then back at Borden’s profile as he was leaning over the desk, signing his ridiculously nice signature on some documents.
How long does it take to master a nice signature anyway? Do you sit there for hours and squiggle away until it looks good? Or do –
“Am I fucking dying of leprosy or something?” he barked.
My jaw dropped. “What?”
He looked down at his hands and then at me. “I’ve got all my fingers. No leprosy here. So why the fuck are you looking at me so much?”
I felt stiff as a rod. I opened my mouth and then shut it again.
Sure I was comfortable around him, but it was only because we’d fallen into a routine. We didn’t speak all that much. I knew him mostly through observation, not through communication, and these were two vastly different things.
“Leprosy isn’t fatal,” I found myself saying.
He blinked and then looked at me like I was a moron. “What?”
“You said ‘am I dying of leprosy?’ Leprosy isn’t fatal, so…” I gulped and turned away from him, awkwardly clicking my mouse on the tabs on my screen.
After a few moments I peeked at him. He was still staring at me. Staring hard with his brows furrowed and his mouth ajar. A “what the fuck” look still accompanied his face.
“You got something stuck up your ass, Lynne?” he asked in all seriousness.
I shook my head in equal seriousness. “Nothing is stuck up my ass.”
“Then what the hell is your problem today? You keep looking at me like I’m going to smite you down. I’m tempted to now that you’re going around in circles instead of answering me.”
I licked my lips and paused. Because now his eyes we
re on my lips and his face went weird. He turned away for a second and then back at me. And my lips.
“Talk to me,” he demanded.
Out of nervousness, I went to lick my lips again –
“Stop licking those lips right now.” His eyes darkened with his words.
My chest tightened at the strain in his voice as he regarded my mouth like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.
Okay, this was just awkward now.
“My friend wants to come to the club tonight,” I blurted out without thought, otherwise we’d be here all day.
“Good for your friend,” he replied blankly.
“She… We want to know if we could have some VIP passes…” I cleared my throat and clumsily ran my hand through my hair. Then I splayed my hair out so that it blocked him from seeing my profile.
It was quiet for a minute. Literally it was a minute. Not like an exaggerated form of a minute when people say they’ve taken a minute… I seriously stared at the clock and watched it tick an entire bloody minute.
I glanced at him quickly.
“I’m not going to bite you, for fuck’s sake,” he said in exasperation. “Look at me right now.”
I swivelled my chair to him again and slowly looked up at him. He was wearing casual clothes today: grey slim-fit sweater, black pants, no watch, no hair slickening – just normal Mr Borden with his unkempt hair. I liked him this way because he was usually laid back when he came to work casually dressed. He still made my heart thump, more so than the time he kissed me, and just thinking about it made me wonder why he never did it again.
“Come here.”
I took a few breaths and wondered why he wanted me closer to him. I stood up and hesitantly took a few steps to him. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at me as I approached him. Those blue eyes scanned my face and then dropped down to my legs before climbing back up again.
My face heated, and I tried to act normal – really, I did – but I knew I was failing miserably.
“You really want those VIP passes?” he asked in a low voice.
I nodded. “Yes.”
He brought his pen to his face and thoughtfully tapped it against the corner of his mouth. Distractedly, I looked at his lips where his pen was nearly touching and stifled the urge to gulp. The damn bully had really nice big lips.