Wordless

by Sabrina Stark

  He wasn't even dressed. But hey, that could be solved easily enough. When he made no move, I marched to the bed and grabbed his clothes. I wadded them up and gave them a hard toss in his direction.

  He caught them with one hand and said, "Forget it."

  "Forget what?"

  "I'm not leaving."

  "Why not?" I said. "It's my room."

  Okay, yes, he was the one paying for it. But that expense was part of the book tour. And in spite of our relationship, I had been doing the job I'd been hired to do.

  He said, "If you want to be alone, take the suite."

  The suite was three times the size and several times nicer. Maybe I should take the suite, if only prove a point.

  But what that point was, I hardly knew. And besides, the thought of returning to that bed, the one we'd been sharing, well, it was more than I could stomach.

  I replied, "I can't. That's your room. Not mine."

  "No. It's our room. Remember?"

  "It doesn't matter," I said. "I'm not going back there."

  He stared at me. I stared at him. In the background, the shower was still running. The frugal part of me wanted to march in and turn it off.

  The less-than-frugal part wanted to set fire to the whole room and laugh while it burned.

  Maybe I'd start with the photos.

  Yeah, right. I didn't even have a lighter. And besides, as crazy as I felt, I'd never take things that far.

  In the end, I simply said, "All right. If you won't leave, I'll just get a room of my own."

  Good thing I'd brought my purse.

  I clutched it tighter and turned away, only to stop when he said, "Becka, wait."

  I stopped and turned around. "For what?"

  For a long moment, he said nothing as he stared across the short distance. From the look on his face, he wasn't any happier than I was.

  And that was saying something.

  Still, like a total sap, I felt a twinge of hope. Maybe he'd finally tell me what was going on.

  But he didn't.

  Instead he said something that made me want to scream. "Go to the front desk. By the time you get there, they'll know where to put you."

  Chapter 65

  Becka

  True to Jack's word, the nice lady at the front desk was expecting me when I arrived. With a mouthful of apologies, she informed me that a "lovely room" was available, but that she'd need another fifteen minutes to get me settled.

  Settled? I wasn't even sure what that meant. But I was in no mood to argue. Already I'd argued more than enough for one single night. Or should I say for one single morning?

  It was, after all, shockingly close to sunrise.

  So instead I pulled out my paperback and sank into the nearest armchair. I opened the book in front of me, but couldn’t bring myself to read more than a page or two.

  I was seething with anger and confusion. Some of this was directed at Jack, and even more of this was directed at myself.

  When I considered all of the foolish decisions I'd made ever since meeting him, it made me feel so incredibly stupid.

  From the first moment I'd laid eyes on him, I'd been too star-struck to think straight. And then, after getting to know him better, my fan-girl fascination had morphed into real feelings.

  Now in hindsight, I realized that I'd been so blinded by my own emotions that I hadn't stopped to consider the terrible possibility that our relationship might be mostly one-sided, even in spite of his pretty words.

  I didn't want to think this. I didn't want to think any of this. And yet the dark thoughts kept coming.

  Maybe I was just his bed-buddy, someone to enjoy while he was on the road. Maybe this was the reason he'd been so tight-lipped about himself. Maybe he hadn't planned on me sticking around past the actual book tour.

  I couldn’t quite believe any of this, which only made me feel like a bigger fool. Maybe I was the biggest idiot on the planet, because even now, I still loved him – and believed that he loved me, too.

  What a mess.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was still drowning in uncertainty, even as the elevator carried me upward to my new room – a suite located just a few doors away from the suite I'd been sharing with Jack.

  But it wasn't until I opened the suite's door that the odd fifteen-minute delay finally made sense. On a stand near the bed were my suitcases, presumably containing all of my things.

  I should've been happy. And yet happiness eluded me in spite of the fact that Jack had apparently also delivered all of my toiletries to the new bathroom.

  Or maybe someone else had.

  Either way, the result was the same. I was officially alone with my stuff.

  Goodie for me.

  By the time I got undressed and climbed into bed, I had a raging headache and a serious case of the blues.

  I felt like I should've handled things better, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how. And if the situation didn't miraculously improve, I simply couldn’t stay on the tour.

  After all, going back to our previous boss-employee relationship was completely out of the question. Even if Jack could pretend that nothing had happened between us, I knew that I most certainly couldn’t.

  And yet, I still waffled. Should I stay? Or should I go?

  But it wasn't until breakfast the next morning that I realized the futility of trying to decide at all. And why? It was because apparently, while I'd been asleep, a certain someone had made the decision on my behalf.

  And I didn't like it.

  Chapter 66

  Jack

  As Becka glared at me from across the table, I asked, "Who says you're being fired?"

  "You. Just now."

  "No. What I said was, I'm sending you out on assignment. Big difference."

  "Oh, please," she said. "It is not. You're sending me away." Her mouth tightened. "You might as well fire me and be done with it."

  I leaned back in the booth. "You realize what you just said, right?"

  "What?"

  With a wry smile, I explained, "You admitted you're not being fired, and that you know it."

  Becka didn't smile back. But then again, I hadn't expected her to. "Oh, stop it," she said. "Now you're just splitting hairs."

  I considered all of the people I'd fired over the years. There hadn't been a lot, but each and every one of them had known damn well what was going on.

  A few cried. Some got angry. None of them had ever doubted they were being shown the door.

  To Becka I said, "Trust me. If I were firing you, you'd know."

  "Do you want to hear something funny?" she said. "I almost quit last night. And this morning, too."

  "But you didn't."

  "Right. And you wanna know why?"

  I did, more than she realized – and more than I was willing to show at the moment. With a casual shrug, I said, "Sure, why not?"

  Her eyes filled with tears. "I don't even know. I should've quit. I still should."

  I wanted to pull her close and kiss away her sadness and frustration. But that would be a mistake, for her in particular. She was my drug, my muse, the only person who made me smile – really smile.

  But I'd rip out my own heart before I'd put her at risk, which is why she had to go – the farther away the better.

  And sooner rather than later.

  It was time to dial it up a notch. I told her, "You can't quit."

  "Why not?"

  "Because if you do, I'll give you a shitty evaluation."

  Her jaw dropped. "What?"

  "The college credit," I said. "Your grade depends on what I say."

  She looked at me like I was the biggest piece of shit on the planet. "Are you seriously threatening me?"

  I put on my best poker face. "It's not a threat if it's true."

  "What?" she sputtered.

  "Look, if you quit with no notice, what am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to tell your professor that you finished the gig when you didn't?"

&n
bsp; She frowned. "But the summer semester's already over."

  "Yeah so?"

  "So you gave me a glowing review. I earned that. And you know it."

  "Yeah, but like you said, the summer's over."

  "So?"

  "New semester, new grade, which means, if you want another good review, you'll get on that plane."

  "You can't be serious." She looked like she wanted to slap me. And I couldn't say I blamed her. But sometimes things needed doing. And this was one of those times.

  When I said nothing in response, she gave a slow shake of her head. "I swear, I don't even know you right now."

  Good. And if things went South, she could tell everyone what a dick I was – without needing to lie.

  With a tight shrug, I replied, "Yeah, well, things happen. But I'm still not gonna lie to your professor."

  "Oh, so now you care about ethics?"

  I cared.

  I never stopped caring.

  But some ethics were murkier than others. And right now, I'd do just about anything to get her on that jet.

  We were wasting time.

  I said, "You've got a passport, right?" I knew the answer, but I wanted to get her thinking in the right direction – to the future, not to the past.

  She slumped deeper in the booth. "I guess."

  There was no guessing involved. A few months ago, Flynn had made sure that both sisters had passports at the ready, just in case.

  He'd been thinking of family vacations. But me, I was in a different mode. It was time to seal the deal and be done with it – before I changed my mind.

  Across from me, she was saying, "But I don't even have it on me – the passport, I mean."

  I glanced at my watch. "You will when you get there."

  "Where?"

  "The airport. The jet's fueled and waiting. And so is your passport."

  "But how'd that happen. What'd you do? Have someone go to Michigan to get it?" Her voice rose. "How long have you been planning this, anyway?"

  Four hours and ten minutes. But I didn't say it, because she didn't need to know. In fact, the less she knew the better.

  The truth was, I hadn't slept. And I'd been busy since our encounter last night. But I hadn't been only one.

  "Cheer up," I said. "There's a surprise waiting for you at the airport."

  Looking anything but cheerful, she said, "What kind of surprise?"

  "Let's just say you're not going alone."

  Chapter 67

  Becka

  Turns out, the surprise was my sister. I should've been happy to see her. But at the moment, I felt bluer than ever, even as she greeted me with a big smile and a fierce hug at the small private airport.

  After a long moment, she pulled back to say, "So, Romania, huh?"

  "Supposedly," I muttered. The so-called assignment involved me traveling through Romania for three whole weeks, researching the country's most famous castles.

  At breakfast, Jack had claimed that he was planning to use the research in his next book – and that he needed the research right away.

  I wasn't buying it. And why? It was because I wasn't stupid, that's why.

  If this were such a priority, he surely would've mentioned it earlier than this morning. But he hadn't, which told me exactly one thing. He'd simply wanted me gone.

  And, as if this weren't bad enough, he'd somehow managed to drag my sister along for the ride – without consulting me at all.

  I loved her company. Really I did. But the thought of her being pulled away on such short notice made me feel guilty and awkward, not to mention severely annoyed with a certain someone.

  If Jack wanted to get bossy with me that was one thing. He was, after all, technically my boss. But Anna? She didn't deserve the disruption, even if she was being a terrific sport about it.

  In front of me, she was still smiling. "I just love castles, don't you?"

  Anna was cheerful by nature. Me, too, normally. But even for Anna, this was a bit much.

  It wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning, and if my calculations were correct, she'd just flown at least two hours to get here.

  Doing the math, this meant she'd left Michigan sometime around seven on incredibly short notice. And that didn't even account for time to pack or travel to the airport.

  How could she be so cheerful?

  With yet another smile, she reached into her purse and pulled out a familiar blue passport. She gave it a little flutter and said, "Look what I've got."

  Obviously, the passport was mine. I frowned. "Well that's convenient."

  Her smile faltered. "Is something wrong?"

  I gave her a long, sullen look. Her dark, glossy hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she was dressed in casual but expensive clothes.

  These days everything she owned was expensive, thanks to Flynn's insistence on spoiling her like crazy whether she wanted him to or not.

  In reply to her question, all I said was, "Don't ask."

  By now, her smile was long gone. "You're not disappointed to see me, are you?"

  My shoulders slumped. Great. Now I was ruining her day, too. "No. Of course not. I'm just in a bad mood." I gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm really sorry, okay?"

  She smiled back. "You can tell me all about it on the plane." She reached out and squeezed my hand. "You'll feel better in no time, I promise."

  Fat chance.

  Still, I tried to be a better sport about it, even when I discovered that we'd be taking Flynn's jet to Romania, further fueling my guilt. How much was this trip costing him, anyway?

  It was one thing if Jack wanted to spend a fortune to send me away. But there was no need to get my sister and her fiancé involved.

  I considered everything that Anna and Flynn had done for me already – the tuition, the dorm, the little notebook computer, and countless other things along the way.

  They all added up. Cripes, even my passport – that had been paid for by Flynn, too, at his insistence.

  It was all so incredibly nice.

  So why did I feel so crappy?

  But I knew why. It was because I'd been shuffled off with nearly no notice, just like Jack's last assistant. At the memory of that godawful phone message, I felt my jaw clench and my fists tighten.

  She'd been crying.

  Today I'd been crying, too. Oh sure, I hadn't cried in front of him. But I'd cried plenty in the limo as it carried me to the airport.

  The similarities between my situation and hers were impossible to ignore. And almost before I knew it, I'd already asked my sister to wait while I made a private phone call to you-know-who.

  Even if he didn't answer, he was going to get an earful, and not later on from Romania.

  Instead, he'd be hearing from me now.

  Chapter 68

  Becka

  When Jack answered the call, I was actually kind of surprised. After the events of this morning, I'd been nearly certain that he'd simply avoid talking to me at all.

  He was, after all, annoyingly good at that.

  And now, I almost didn't know what to say. Stupidly, I murmured, "I thought I'd get your voicemail."

  "Well you didn't," he said. "How's Romania?"

  I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. He couldn’t be serious. I'd left the hotel only forty minutes ago. "Was that a joke?"

  "Judging from your tone," he said, "I'm guessing not."

  Tears pricked at my eyes. Even though he was being a total ass, it felt embarrassingly good to hear his voice. Still, I had called for a reason. "I've got a question."

  "You?" He sounded almost amused. "No kidding?"

  I wasn't in the mood to be teased. "It's about your last assistant."

  "What about her?"

  "There's something I need to know." Bracing myself, I asked, "Were you two sleeping together?"

  He was quiet for a long moment before saying, "You already asked that."

  "Yeah, but that was months ago."

  "And what? You think you'
re gonna get a different answer?"

  "I just want the truth," I said.

  "And I already gave it to you. Where'd this come from?"

  "Isn't it obvious?" I said. "You got rid of her on really short notice." Something squeezed at my heart. "Just like me. And she was crying."

  Just like me.

  But I didn't say it. Instead, I waited for Jack's reply.

  He said, "Except she was fired. You weren't."

  Oh sure, maybe he hadn't fired me outright, but he was sending me to a different country. Probably he'd wanted to fire me, but hadn't only because of the Flynn connection.

  "So why didn't you?" I said. "Is it because I'm Anna's sister?"

  "No."

  I waited for him to elaborate. And when he didn't, I sighed. "All right, fine. About your last assistant, you never did tell me. Why was she fired?"

  "You know why," he said. "My location was confidential. And she released it."

  "Yeah, but only to your girlfriend."

  "Ex-girlfriend," he clarified. "And trust me. My instructions were crystal clear."

  "So?"

  "So she didn't follow them."

  God, what a hard-ass. "Yeah, but that's such a tiny mistake. And the way it sounded in that voicemail, she really did think she was doing you a favor."

  "Maybe. Maybe not," he said. "She still needed to go."

  "So let me get this straight," I said. "She makes one little mistake, and you send her away just like that?"

  Was I projecting?

  Probably.

  But suddenly it seemed very important to know. Into his stubborn silence, I added, "It just feels like I'm missing something, that's all."

  "All right," he said. "You want the truth? She took a bribe."

  I blinked. Seriously? "What do you mean?"

  "I mean," he said, "Imogen paid her a thousand bucks for information on where I was."

  Woah. "And she accepted it?"

  "She didn't decline it. I can tell you that."

  "But how do you know?" I asked.

  "Because she did a sorry job of covering her tracks."

  "Oh." Now I didn't know what else to say.

  On the phone, Jack gave a low scoff. "Satisfied?"

  Was I? Maybe a little. Still, I had to ask, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

  "Because you didn't need to know."