by Isabel Jolie
“They call you Jack here?” Jackson closes his door, draws his shades closed, and pulls me into his arms.
“They do not. I prefer Jackson. Only people trying to get under my skin call me Jack.”
“Hmmm. I call you Jack.”
He nuzzles along my neck and whispers, “When my cock’s inside you, filling you up, you can call me anything you like.”
Then he steps away and picks up a paper bag. He sets out two chef’s salads, a selection of dressings, and two lime waters. “I hope this works for you. I don’t have much time. I had my assistant go out and pick up lunch for us.”
“It’s great. Perfect.”
We gaze at each other a bit as we dig into the salads.
I lean back. “You never told me you work with such good-looking women.”
He raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Vipers. I’m surrounded by vipers.”
“Maybe. Still gorgeous.” I don’t particularly like that he’s surrounded by beautiful women. Polished perfectionists.
His lips spread into a wide grin. “Are you jealous?”
I bite my lip. Damn him. “Maybe.”
“Babe, you have no reason to be. You are so much more beautiful. Natural. Real. Kind. Those women out there? I won’t turn my back on them for fear I’m going to have a stiletto sinking into me.”
“Eleanor? Is she one you don’t turn your back on?”
His gaze turns thoughtful. “She’s not a friend.”
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out. It’s the middle of the workday, so of course I’ll check it.
Nick: Drinks after work?
He’s told me twice in the hall this week he wants to talk. My stomach churns. I type a quick text back.
Me: Still getting caught up from being gone. Can’t.
Now, or ever. Jackson leans over a bit. I can tell he read my text.
“He’s still asking you out?”
“He’s not asking me out that way.”
Jackson rests his chin on his joined hands, elbows planted on the table. “I don’t like how he treats you.”
I sigh. Me neither. He gives me the heebie-jeebies. “It’s fine. It’s the way he is. And at least I don’t have to worry about him nailing a stiletto into my back.”
Jackson chuckles. “Yeah, you might have me there.”
I narrow my eyes. “Be honest. When you wanted me to go on a date with you to an office function, it had nothing to do with old ladies setting you up. You didn’t want your colleagues throwing themselves at you.”
He shrugs and gives me this you-caught-me look. “Office politics.”
I smirk. “Yeah, it must be tough being so gorgeous that you know with a little alcohol these hot women are going to hit on you.”
“Actually, it is tough. I don’t do office romance. Way too many dangers. And turning down a woman’s advances can be tricky. An emotional minefield. When the bomb goes off, you don’t lose a limb, but you create an enemy.”
“Sounds like the voice of experience.”
Jackson glances at his watch. “It is. Remind me at home later, and I’ll tell you what happened in Atlanta.”
Jackson guides me to the elevator bank, a protective hand resting on my lower back. He kisses me goodbye, and I step into the elevator. As the doors slide close, I hear a feminine voice echo through the hall. “Jack, dinner tonight?”
Chapter 33
Anna
A soft rap sounds outside my office door. “Hey, there! How was lunch at Jackson’s office?” Delilah stands outside my door, two steaming Starbucks cups in hand.
“Oh, you are a goddess.”
“Only in exchange for company.” She grins as she delivers my grande.
I point to my sofa. “Sit.” It’s after six o’clock. It’s the best time of the day to sit and gab. “So, Jackson’s office. Where do I begin? The office itself is way cool. Industrial modern design.” I whip out my phone to share my photos of the building.
“Nice,” she responds, flicking through the photos.
“Uber professional. Everyone’s in a super nice suit. The women are dressed to kill.”
“Uh huh. Do I hear jealousy?” The tilt of her head and twerk in her lips show she’s teasing.
“Not really.” Jackson and I are in a good place. Even though some woman was asking him to dinner as the elevator closed, it didn’t faze me. “He described them as vipers. I get the sense it’s a cutthroat kind of place to work. I don’t think I’d be happy working there. Definitely wouldn’t fit in. I wonder if Jackson’s happy there.”
Delilah grabs the latest Adweek and flips through it. “Wouldn’t work for me. That’s for sure.” A Mr. Clean ad gets her attention, and she flings the magazine at me. “Did you see the latest Mr. Clean commercial? I love where they are taking the campaign. It’s a play off my favorite romance novels.”
A tap sounds out on my door. Nick stands in the doorway, watching us on the sofa. “What you ladies up to?”
“Coffee break. If I’d known you were still around, I would have gotten you some.”
“Thank you, Delilah. Watch and learn from Delilah, Anna. She’ll show you how to treat a colleague.”
“Thanks, D,” I say as I toss a throw pillow in Delilah’s direction. She laughs and bends to catch the pillow, sending her messy bun in a tailspin.
Nick steps into my office with a confident swagger. He waves a piece of paper around. “Anyway, I didn’t stop by to give out etiquette pointers. Do you have a minute to review this brief? It’s for an online campaign for National Geographic.”
I reach out and grab the paper. Nick taps his foot against Delilah’s leg. “Can I break up your girl powwow long enough to go over this with Anna?”
Delilah stands and stretches her arms out to the ceiling. “Sure. I’ve got to get out of here, anyway. Gotta hit the gym.” She points at me as she heads out. “Tomorrow. Lunch, okay? You and me.”
I give her the thumbs up sign and mutter, “Sure thing. Have a good night.”
Reading through the brief, I don’t notice any issues. It’s our standard brief based on the existing campaign for banner ads.
Still sitting on the sofa, I glance up at Nick. “I don’t see any issues with it. I’ll schedule the creative brief for tomorrow.” I hop up to send a quick email to the team about the brief. When I pass Nick, he grabs my wrist and whips me around to face him.
“What?”
“I’m here for you, if you need someone.”
I back up, moving outside of his reach to regain my space cushion. “What do you mean?”
He takes a step closer, head down so I see more of his eyebrows than his eyes. “You broke up with your boyfriend? I want you to know, I’m here for you.”
“Oh, that. Jackson and I worked everything out.” I give him a small smile, attempting to mask my discomfort. I take two steps backward, edging toward my computer.
He takes two steps forward. Then he straightens, turns, and heads to the door. I breathe a sigh of relief. Then he pushes the door closed. My heartrate increases.
“Nick, what are you doing? Open the door.” This guy. His demeanor can be so unnerving.
He stalks over to me, eyes dark, head down. Determined. He didn’t open the door like I asked him to. It’s not unusual for him to ignore me, but this doesn’t feel right. An inside voice tells me to run. But my professional voice tells me to stand my ground. I don’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing he makes me uncomfortable. He’ll think I’m too young for my role.
He moves around the corner of my desk and towers over me. “You have to feel this between us. Give us a chance. Don’t you remember how good it was?”
I put my arms up and push against him. “Get away, Nick. Really, enough.” This whole thing is getting absurd.
In one quick move, he grabs both wrists and pulls them above my head, pressing his body hard against mine.
“Nick, stop!”
“No, think about it. Don’t you remember how good we we
re together? I’ve been waiting a long time, Anna. This whole waiting game you’ve got going is getting old. You little fucking cock tease.”
I blink. I’m pressed against the wall, both wrists held high above my head. I struggle against him. I try to knee him, but I can’t move my legs, my hands captive. I’m trapped. What is he doing? His sinister glare frightens me. For the first time, I’m petrified. His grip on my wrists tightens and hurts. I will not be helpless. Think. It’s not late. Other people will still be in the office. It can’t be much past six o’clock. Talk to him. Calm him down. If that fails, scream.
“Nick, stop. Let me go.”
“No. You listen. It’s time we explore this thing between us. I’ve been standing by, waiting. That guy, he’s not right for you. Don’t be afraid of a good thing. What we have. Don’t be afraid.” He growls into my ear, “Are you afraid, or do you get off on teasing me?” His weight smashes me against the wall. The helplessness of my situation hits me hard. My heartrate rises as desperation threatens to overwhelm me.
“Nick, there is nothing between us. Let. Me. Go. Or I will scream,” I say, aiming to sound commanding and firm.
“Yeah?” He twists his head and gives me an eerie half grin.
The point of his nose touches along the base of my neck, and revulsion surges. His wet tongue licks up along my neck. Nausea, fear, and helplessness intermingle. I jerk away, and his hands grip my wrists harder. Pain radiates through my hands and arms. I squirm, and he smashes his weight against me. A hardness that might be his erection presses into my belly, and I freeze. I do not want to turn him on.
He sneers. “Scream. Who are they going to believe? Your version of the story or mine? I’m best friends with the owners. I play with their kids. Know their wives. You think they’ll pick you over me?” He pauses and nips at my earlobe. “You want me. Give in to us.”
I flatten my head against the wall. Tears spring to my eyes. I knew Nick was creepy, but I never thought he would hurt me. Never saw him as demented. Crazy. He places both of my wrists under the hold of one his large hands. His free hand drops along my side then squeezes my breast.
Holy shit. What is he going to do? Rape me in my office at work with people right outside? What defense moves do I know? I wriggle more, trying to get away. But he’s too big, and I don’t have any room. I need more space to get a leg free and kick him hard with my boots or to at least knee up, but I can’t. He physically overpowers me. Helpless. I’m helpless.
His grip intensifies as I struggle. Pain shoots through my wrists. “Ow. You’re hurting me!” I need him to back off enough so I can fight.
An angry deep voice shoots through the room, “Let her go. Now!”
Nick startles. He drops my wrist and steps backward, as if stung. Jackson stands in the doorway. Silent tears stream down my cheeks, and my knees wobble.
I stumble. Climb over my desk to reach Jackson. Safety. Nick taunts, “Well, if it isn’t the little boyfriend.”
Jackson lunges past me, fist in the air, free-falling straight into Nick.
I scream.
Jackson’s fists keep flying, pushing Nick down over my desk. Nick’s fists swing, but within seconds he’s huddled, hands over his face in a defensive stance.
I back out in the hall and scream, “Help!” Someone has to be in the office.
John comes running down the hall. “Anna?”
I point toward my office door. The sound of glass shattering rings from inside as my lamp crashes to the floor. John rushes past me into my office with his assistant Jamie following close behind.
John pulls Jackson back, and Jamie spreads his arms out to block Nick. Blood runs down Nick’s face near his left eye and under his hairline on his forehead.
John yells, “What the fuck is going on?”
Nick points at Jackson and screams, “He attacked me!”
Jackson growls at him, anger pouring off in waves. John grips Jackson’s shoulder, forcing him back. “Who are you?”
Jackson lifts his arm to point toward me as he gasps for air, and I step forward. “He’s my boyfriend.”
John whips his head around, taking in the scene. The broken lamp on the floor, the mess on my desk, a bloody Nick. “What the hell is going on in here?”
Jackson steps back to rest against the wall. John keeps one arm pinned to him, as if he’s a loose wild animal. “I opened the door to her office and found Nick holding her against the wall, wrists pinned above her head.”
John glares at Nick then lets Jackson go. He pulls his phone out of his back jeans pocket and dials. “Hey, Margaret. Have you made it to the station yet?” Pause. “Can you come back here? We have an urgent situation.” Pause. “Thanks.”
John shifts his attention to Nick. “Head to my office and wait in there.”
Nick scowls as he stomps out. After taking a couple of steps into the hall, he turns around and grumbles, “This is bullshit. She’s been coming on to me for months. You can’t believe anything that crazy bitch says.”
John raises his arm to point down the hall and commands, “Nick. Now. To my office. Margaret will be here shortly, and she’ll talk to you. Jamie, can you go with him and get something to put on his cuts?”
Eyes big as saucers, Jamie nods and follows Nick down the hall.
After they are out of sight, John places a gentle hand on my shoulder and in a quiet, calm voice, asks, “What happened, Anna?”
My hands tremble, and tears fall without control. “I’m sorry I’m crying. This is crazy.”
John leads me to the sofa and picks up a tissue box and hands it to me. “Margaret will be here soon. She’ll handle this from an HR perspective. I just want to know...what happened?”
Jackson leans back against my desk, his cheeks still flushed red. He clearly wants to hear too. Blood shines on the edge of his knuckles as his hands grip my desk.
I try to calm my breathing and my sniffles. My hands quiver. “It happened so fast.” My fingers brace against my forehead. “Nick came in with a creative brief. I told him it was fine, and I was walking past him to schedule the brief with my team, and he grabbed me and pushed me up against the wall.” I think back. Trying to remember the order of things. It’s a sort of dark blur. I squirm. “He kissed me. Licked my throat.” I grimace remembering how disgusting his saliva felt. “I tried to get away. I told him I’d scream. He told me no one would believe my side.” I stare at the carpet then up at Jackson. “Then Jackson told him to let me go.”
Tears gush out. Nothing happened. Not really. He didn’t hurt me. Hit me. Rape me. But I can’t stop the tears.
“Is this the first time he’s come on to you?” John asks.
Jackson speaks up, his voice firm and angry. “No.”
No part of me wants to tell John everything that has happened between Nick and me. Jackson doesn’t even know a fraction of it. And I don’t want to tell him either. I focus on the leg of the coffee table and the thick gray carpet.
Jackson takes my silence as opportunity to speak. He points at John and demands, “Nick needs to go. Fire him. Fire him, or Anna quits. Fire him, or you will have one hell of a sexual harassment case against your company.”
I snap my head up. What the fuck? Unbelievable. What gives him the right to make demands at my workplace? Lawyer Jackson needs to leave.
John pushes out his chest and moves to stand in front of Jackson. “This is my company. I’ll find out what’s going on, and it will be handled. But you need to calm down,” John responds in a calm tone laced with anger. The two men face each other, shoulders back, hands to their sides, like in some ridiculous western.
A flurry of emotions rips through me. Embarrassment. Relief. Residual fear. Why did this happen? Dammit. No part of me wants to be weak, and this whole situation made me weak. I try to stifle the tears, but they keep falling.
The tension in the room between Jackson and John rises. A wave of exhaustion settles over me. “Jackson, what are you even doing here? You need to leave.”
“Anna, I won’t allow you to keep working here. Not if he’s here. No way.” He’s angry. Possessive. Dominating. He’s treating me like a possession. Something he owns.
Anger surges to become my dominant emotion, crushing all the others swirling within. “You won’t allow me? Are you out of your mind? On what planet do you own me?”
He scowls. “It’s not about owning you. I care about you. You don’t know what that sick fuck might’ve done. He trapped you against a wall. There was nothing you could’ve done.”
I stand and shriek, “I had it handled! Get out! You don’t own me. Get. Out!”
Jackson’s eyes widen, and he jerks back away from me, as if punched.
John places his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “Come on. If you don’t mind, I’ll have Margaret talk to you first. But after talking to HR, you need to respect Anna’s wishes and leave.” John squeezes Jackson’s shoulder with a fatherly kindness I don’t understand. A moment ago, the two men were on the precipice of flinging fists.
Once both men are gone, I curl up on my sofa and sob, hugging a pillow to my chest.
MARGARET, OUR HEAD of HR, taps on my door. She wears her white hair up in a grandmotherly high bun, but her smooth skin and sharp eyes are those of a younger woman. She’s kind but can be quite stern. I don’t know her well, but I liked her from the moment I met her when I was first hired.
With a gentle, kind touch, she pulls the hair away from my face and offers me another tissue. “It sounds like you have a lot to tell me.”
I exhale in a loud, calming puff. Might as well get this over with. “There’s not a lot to tell. Do you want me to start from the beginning?”
She nods. An open notebook rests on her lap, a pen in hand.
I start from the moment Nick came into my office and tell her everything. I mention he asked Delilah to leave. I blow my nose after I finish and think of one more thing. “That brief was so standard and straightforward, he could have emailed it to me.”