Empowered

by Cynthia Dane

  Usually she took her time unwinding back into her true self. She’d order a little room service after a night out seducing men and engaging in risky, casual sex. Watch something flippant on TV. Touch herself, if those men hadn’t done the job. Slowly strip Angel’s lingerie and take the wig off last before dipping into a hot bubble bath. By the time she got out, she was usually ready to go back to being Sarah Clayborn, boring executive assistant. Sometimes that went as far as catching up on work in her hotel room while Law & Order played on the TV.

  Tonight she was forced to go back to being Sarah before she reached the hotel. Alisha was off the phone once Sarah was in the elevator, making eye contact with an older woman who looked her up and down as if she were a pricy escort. Lucas thought I was. Sarah fluffed her straight, flat hair and averted her eyes toward the mirror in the elevator. Her makeup looked ridiculous without the wig.

  Probably because the makeup and lingerie belonged to Angel. It was her look. Her “come fuck me” look. Sarah didn’t have those attributes. Without the wig, she was an imposter.

  She needed to take her mind off work and Lucas. Once she was in her room, makeup off and dressed in the one pair of pajamas she brought with her, Sarah sat at the table by the window and called her brother back home.

  He answered before the first ring, as if he sensed her calling.

  Once, seemingly not so long ago, she and Nigel had been so close they never had to say a word to one another. A nod of the head, an arch of the eyebrow, and a sigh of the lungs was all it took to say “Fuck this. I need help. Give me a hug. Isn’t this some bullshit? Sounds like our mother, doesn’t it? Our boss is at it again. You wanna take this or should I?”

  As of late, however, that was gone. Trust was dismantled between them. Nigel had done something so heinous in order to protect his sister… yet Sarah could not bring herself to condone it. There was no condoning pushing someone down a flight of stairs.

  Sarah didn’t care if Russell had threatened to kill her. Nigel should have told Mr. and Mrs. Monroe immediately.

  This was also the same brother who learned the truth of Sarah’s miscarriage before she did. He had kept it to himself. To protect her.

  “Hey,” Nigel said. “How’s New York?”

  Sarah never told him what she was doing on her weekend getaways. He wouldn’t say anything even if he did know, though. The only judgment Sarah would feel was the one burning behind his eyes as he looked upon his sister’s life and wondered why the hell he had bothered to go through all that bullshit to protect her.

  “It’s fine. Settling in for the night. What are you up to?”

  “Just got home from game night. Carly’s here. We’re going to bed soon ‘cause she has to work tomorrow.”

  Something tightened in Sarah’s chest. “How’s she doing?”

  “Good, good.”

  They were silent for a minute. Occasionally, Sarah heard the murmur of the TV or her brother’s girlfriend’s voice in the background. As happy as she was for her brother’s newfound love, she couldn’t help but be… a little jealous. A tad. A bit. Not enough to make her swallow the green down her throat, but enough to nick the skin covering her heart.

  Deep down, she wanted someone to hold her like Carly held Nigel.

  We were like that as kids. People told their mother that it wasn’t right even for twins to be so inseparable. Luckily, their mother didn’t buy into the incest rumors. She let her children share a room until puberty, after which they were given adjacent rooms with a door connecting them. It was an unspoken vow that they could go through that door whenever necessary. Well, that vow remained until Sarah went through it one evening and found her seventeen-year-old brother losing his virginity before she had the chance to try out sex for herself.

  They were too old for that now. Maybe if society and culture weren’t a thing. Maybe if people didn’t already make more incest jokes about them when they both worked for the Monroes. They thought themselves terribly clever when they went to the same school, took the same courses, and earned the same administration degrees. They thought the world was theirs when Mr. Monroe hired them as his executive assistants shortly after they graduated. Their mother’s connections in the business world had made that happen. She couldn’t help them when they turned against themselves two years later, however.

  Elizabeth Brown-Clayborn only found out her daughter had been pregnant when Sarah took a leave of absence from work after her miscarriage. Before that, the only people who had known were Nigel and then Russell… and Russell’s bodyguard, apparently. Sarah could have lived her whole life without knowing that man was responsible for the death of her child.

  When the truth came out, more than a few people were made privy to the embarrassing, traumatic information.

  “When will you be home tomorrow?” Nigel asked, cutting into their mutual silence.

  “Hopefully around four.”

  “Ah.” He went back to being quiet.

  Sarah was happy to have the silence. Simply knowing that her brother was on the other line, ready to talk to her whenever she was ready, was enough to alleviate the bad thoughts coming up in the back of her mind.

  Then he spoke.

  “I… I hope he’s taking good care of you, sis.” Nigel cleared his throat. “I’ll talk to you later. Ja yeop.”

  He hung up after saying one of their made-up words for farewell, a phrase that had existed as long as ja lub ke. They hadn’t said “I love you” since the night Sarah found out the truth about her miscarriage.

  But that wasn’t what shocked her the most. Rather, she was surprised to discover that her brother thought she was seeing the same man every time she went to New York. Perhaps it’s not so farfetched. She turned off her phone and placed it face down on the table. He must know I’m up to something like that. Part of the danger of their relationship was how easily they communicated their thoughts and feelings without ever using words. He knows I’m up to something sexual. It was almost quaint that Nigel assumed she was seeing the same man.

  Did he think the man was a sugar daddy? Or a real boyfriend she was testing out before going public with him? How deeply did he think about it?

  Sarah picked up the TV remote and changed the channel. One of the cable shows was nothing but the usual tits and ass.

  Fuck. She didn’t want to be reminded of sex so quickly. While her body was more than satisfied after her quick hookup with Lucas, the rest of her pined for another round, for more attention, for a clarification on what he meant by “So that’s your game.”

  Ahaha. Like she needed clarification. The man thought she was trying to get knocked up by a rich baby daddy.

  So what if she was?

  Sarah leaned back in her chair and folded her hands over her stomach. She had barely known she was pregnant – had barely accepted she was pregnant – when it was over with one of the worst pains of her life. Only later did she find out she woke up like that because Russell had drugged her and bade his bodyguard to beat her bruised and a little bloody. The miscarriage was intentional. Leaving her potentially infertile was another nice big fuck you to her agency and bodily autonomy.

  Part of her spiral into self-destructive habits was intentionally leaving herself open to an “accidental” pregnancy. Her doctor had told her the odds were so slim she should never get her hopes up. But what if? What if she could take control of that part of herself again? What if she could have that normal life that was ripped from her in such a heinously violent way?

  She didn’t care about the father. He was a pawn in her search for control. A fun fling to enjoy on her road to recovery. If Lucas got her pregnant, Sarah would be content with never seeing or hearing from him again. She didn’t want his money.

  What she wanted was to be empowered, and she didn’t care what toxic hell she swam through to get there.

  Those bastards took it away from me. She stumbled away from the table and collapsed on the bed, hand still on her stomach. They took away my choices. T
hey stole my right to decide what I wanted.

  They fucked up me.

  Sarah prided herself on how easily she controlled her emotions. It was one of the reasons the Monroes paid her so handsomely: always obedient, helpful, and devoid of reactions to whatever they got up to. Still, she knew how unhealthy it was to bottle up her negativity, her trauma, her screams into the void that made her human.

  So every weekend in her final pursuit to purge herself of what made her human, she allowed herself to cry. To howl. To sob. To scream into her pillow that she was worthy of love and respect.

  Nobody knew about these outbursts. Nobody except God.

  And as soon as she cried it out? Back to the Sarah everyone knew and appreciated. Quiet, docile Sarah.

  She hoped Lucas never thought of her again. It was best if nobody remembered Sarah Clayborn and her problems she didn’t ask anyone to care about.

  Chapter 4

  “Where the hell is the damned technician?” Damon Monroe’s voice boomed through the office. “How the hell does AV equipment up and die over the weekend?” He sped past Sarah’s desk. “Get it fixed, please. Meeting with Blackbourne at nine!”

  Sarah allowed herself one deep breath before picking up the landline phone and starting another hectic week.

  The office was nothing but the worst bouts of whinging, as her mother would have called it. When Mr. Monroe wasn’t convinced that his pivotal meeting would go to hell without audio and visual working in the main conference room, his wife held her head in her hands and bemoaned a monstrous headache that had been killing her since the night before. Alisha spared Sarah further thanks for her help before launching into a tirade about her mother. Even one of the bodyguards that silently lurked around the office muttered about faulty technology and unruly charges. Mrs. Monroe’s female bodyguard continuously asked her to please settle down. Her doctor had asked her to stay off her feet for a few days, hadn’t she?

  To be fair, it was a big day in Monroe Tower. Mr. Monroe was launching a new tech subsidiary that was projected to make the company billions – if he could take on the staunch competition. To help him, he was bringing in an old friend from the Blackbourne family, who would become a temporary “partner” for the sole purpose of taking on the likes of Lane Technological Solutions and Cole Communications. The Blackbournes had a solid background of marketing against tech giants, if certain Finnish companies had anything to say about it.

  Still, Sarah was used to commanding big days around the office. That was one of the areas Alisha still apprenticed beneath her for, since the only other person to compare to Sarah was her own brother. Nigel hadn’t worked for the Monroes for a few months now. His resignation was one of many turning points around there.

  If only people would stop complaining for two seconds!

  Ms. Clayborn do this. Sarah do that. Who the hell are you? Oh, the help. She better be more than the help for as much as she was paid to run the Monroes’ lives for them. She had hoped her boss’s marriage and baby would settle him down a little? Ha! Fat. Fucking. Chance.

  “Where the hell is Blackbourne! He’s late!”

  Alisha stood up from her desk, phone cord wrapping around her arm as she searched for Mr. Monroe’s face in the crowd of black suits swelling in the room. “His driver says he’s about five minutes away, sir! Traffic from the airport!”

  “The fuck is he doing getting into town now?” Damon approached the shared working space with a grumble in his throat. “He was supposed to be in his hotel by last night.”

  “Sorry, sir, I have no idea.”

  Damon glared in Sarah’s direction. “Ms. Clayborn, run down to the marketing office and get me that backup USB John promised me. Looks like our AV is going to stay on the fritz.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sarah turned off her computer monitor. “Be back in a few.”

  “You better be. As soon as Blackbourne gets here, we’re starting the meeting. Assuming my wife hasn’t gone missing, too.”

  “Last I saw she was in the employee bathroom, sir.”

  Sarah glanced at Alisha before showing herself out of the office. Sure enough, Alice Monroe emerged from the women’s restroom with a sick look on her face.

  I remember those days. While she didn’t envy the pregnant missus for her ongoing ailments, the reminder was absolutely unnecessary on a Monday morning. Sarah didn’t have any time to hole herself up in the bathroom to cry over things she couldn’t control.

  She darted down to the in-house marketing department four floors below. John Creech, head of the talented team, intercepted her on her way through the waiting room and placed a black USB stick into her hand. “Let Mr. Monroe know that we’re having AV problems down here too.”

  Sarah would get right on that.

  She detoured through the nearest security depot, since the Monroes demanded a fresh copy of the previous weeks reports every Monday. The supervisor on duty pushed forward a small stack of folders he had signed off on five minutes before she walked through the door. He never once looked away from a monitor when she came in and picked the folders up. Nor did they ever say a word to each other.

  USB tucked into her front pocket and folders secured beneath her arm, Sarah hopped into the elevator and rode the final two floors up.

  She shouldn’t have emerged so quickly.

  “Shit!” Her hurried body smacked right into the man standing in front of the elevator doors. Before she could chastise him for standing right in her way, however, a bodyguard she didn’t recognize swept in and pried Sarah off the man.

  Effectively knocking her over and making her drop the folders, of course.

  A small commotion erupted because of this unfortunate event. The suited men standing around the man she bumped into flanked their charge and oversaw Sarah scrambling to pick up the folders and disarrayed papers within. The man responsible, however, turned around and quickly bent down to help her as soon as he realized what had happened.

  “My apologies,” he said, large hands deftly picking up the Friday afternoon security reports. “I shouldn’t have been standing right there.”

  “It’s not a problem.” Sarah snatched the papers without looking the man in the eye. She would have to tilt her head back to see past her bangs, and she didn’t have time for that now.

  The hand remained before her. “Let me help you up, Miss…”

  Whatever. She clasped onto his hand and instantly felt the lurch upward.

  Sarah always ate a light breakfast of a bagel and hummus. Good thing she ate light. Because she was liable to be as sick as Mrs. Monroe when she looked into the brilliantly blue eyes of Lucas.

  Oh. My. God.

  Frozen where she stood, Sarah had to check her opening mouth and default to her most detached mode available in her arsenal. “You… uh, thank you.”

  Don’t let him know you recognize him! Sarah did her makeup in such a way that few people would know she was Angel. That was part of the point of not only taking up a new persona, but avoiding the detection of people who worked with her boss.

  Apparently, she had not done a very good job avoiding those men.

  “Least I could do after my bodyguard lost all of his manners.” Lucas shot the other man a sour look. Detach! Detach! Sarah had the poker face of the century when she gazed upon Lucas in his suited glory in broad daylight. Holy shit. He’s even more beautiful during the day. His freshly shaven face was as pristine as the dark hair on his head. but nothing compared to those broad shoulders contained within a bristling suit and a royal purple power tie. Aftershave as pleasant as it was intense smacked Sarah across the cheek. It was the amplified version of what she smelled Saturday night in New York.

  If he recognized her… well, then his poker face was as strong as Sarah’s.

  “Lucas Blackbourne.” He gave her hand a small shake. “You must be Ms. Clayborn, come to save my first meeting.”

  “Uh, yeah…” Of course. Of course! “Excuse me.” Sarah blew by him and toward the conference room,
her breath clogging her throat and probably turning her face blue.

  “Ms. Clayborn!” Mr. Monroe leaped up from the head of the conference table. The way he looked over her head implied Blackbourne and Co. were coming up behind her. “Please, for the love of God, tell me you have that USB stick.”

  She shuffled the disarrayed folders and shoved her hand into her pocket.

  Then her other pocket.

  Where the fuck was it!

  Her paling face did not inspire confidence in the CEO of the company. He shared her panicked look before another heroic voice entered the room.

  “Is this it, Damon?” Lucas reached over Sarah’s shoulder. His close proximity forced her to touch him again.

  That surge of power passing from his chest to her back almost knocked her off her feet.

  “Thank God.” Mr. Monroe plucked it from Lucas’s fingers and tossed it to the man taking care of the backup audio and visual. “The shareholders are already arriving. Welcome to hell. Let’s get started.”

  Lucas put a gentle hand on Sarah’s shoulder to move her out of his way. “Excuse me, would you? You should probably go get him some coffee, while you’re up. If he yells at me like that, I can only imagine how he yells at you.”

  Their eyes met. Sarah’s widened, slightly.

  Lucas winked at her.

  A knowing wink? A wink of recognition? Winking for the sake of fucking winking?

  Coffee. Yes, coffee. Mr. Monroe would want coffee before starting the meeting. Mrs. Monroe would want her red tea. First, Sarah needed to take the security files to Mr. Monroe’s office and leave them on his desk.

  She was one of few people allowed access to his most private business domain. The greenery hanging from the ceiling and planted upon the coffee tables were the only signs of life when she entered, folders shaking in her hand.

  Mr. Monroe’s desk was usually impeccable, especially on Monday morning, but today it contained a stack of photographs awaiting new frames so they could be hung up behind his desk. There was one of his pregnant wife in white linen, enjoying a recent excursion to a Caribbean. One of his mother when she was younger, holding a baby Damon.