Entry-Level Mistress

chapter 11



June rolled to a close and I passed through in a rush of unthinking giddiness. I didn’t want to think. I ignored everything that pointed to coming disaster, the way that my co-workers, especially James, avoided talking to me except when strictly necessary. Whether they were scared of my connection to their boss or derisive of it, it didn’t matter to me. Not when, interspersed with the numerous, time-intensive yet basic tasks I was assigned, there were stolen kisses, embraces, promises. In the evenings, on the weekends, I lived for the circle of Daniel’s arms and the naked length of his body against mine. The few hours when he had an evening dinner meeting or a weekend lunch appointment, I spared a rare visit back to my own apartment. Dealing with the menial tasks of paying bills and doing laundry, I would glance at my unfinished artwork, the sketches for the sculpture project, which now felt so bulky and unpoetic. The art with which I was obsessed was the one created in each living moment.

I rejected my mother’s request to visit Arizona for the fourth of July. I likely would have said no anyway—when I’d left for college I’d been happy to put the craziness of my stepfather and their hippy, commune lifestyle behind—but my decision had more to do with embracing the present than rejecting the past.

It was exciting to be in Boston, and exciting to be part of Hartmann Enterprises. Daniel had made his decision and Janine’s nephew, after much negotiating, had accepted an offer. Hartmann Enterprises was moving into space. That changed everything on the third floor as the conversation expanded from round, futuristic and global to universal. And now incorporated many jokes about The Jetsons. Above all, there was a focus there that had been missing earlier.

The decision also changed things between Daniel and me. Though he was busier, he seemed to want me by his side more, even inviting me to dinner with him and Julian, whose careful observation had warmed into a friendlier relationship. On the days that Daniel didn’t have meetings, I spent lunchtime reading a book while he worked or listening to him talk through plans. Plans that seemed top secret, as if I were the last person in the world with whom he should be sharing them. He trusted me. Or maybe he was testing me, just as he had that first day he had invited me up to his office, had me wait there for him in the empty room.

But why test me? Even if I never did anything to hurt him, even if I never whispered a word of his plans to my father, or anyone else who could endanger them, in six weeks I would be going off, parting ways. In six weeks it would all be over.

That thought alternately made me want to run away now, or spend every waking moment with him. When Leanna announced her plan to go to Manhattan for July 4th and invited me along, I held back. This time I didn’t have the excuse of a disliked stepfather. I hesitated to give an answer because I was waiting for Daniel, even though he hadn’t mentioned any unusual plans.

Then, suddenly, on the Thursday before the holiday weekend, it didn’t matter anymore. Shortly after ten, Lance called me into his office, his expression grim. I thought through the projects I’d completed all week, tried to think of a misstep I might have taken.

He gestured for me to sit and, though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I sat.

“You have talent,” Lance said, leaning against the front of his desk, shaking his head. I wanted to say thank you but his body language was saying something far different from his words. “I want to start entrusting you with more responsibility, involve you in the creative discussions, but at the same time … ” He paused, rubbing at his chin.

“I’d like to be,” I said quietly. I hadn’t been as vocal during the morning meetings since the day Jillian had put me in my place. I knew this wasn’t my career but it was Jillian’s.

“You started off well here,” Lance continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “And then your personal life became a distraction. Even though interoffice dating is against the rules, because it’s Hartmann you’re seeing— No please, it’s obvious to everyone.” I pressed my lips together, forced myself to just listen. “I don’t really know what he’s thinking but this is a new department and this sort of behavior ruins cohesiveness, teamwork and morale.”

It was like I was eight again, being chastised. Even though I was embarrassed, even though the whole situation was awful, Lance had a point. To me it had all been a game. Although I did my best to complete the tasks given, work wasn’t serious to me at all.

“If you quit, I can guarantee an excellent referral. I can call a few friends.”

“Does Hartmann know we’re having this conversation?”

“Are you playing that card, Emily?”

“No!” I said quickly, appalled. “I just wanted to know. I understand. I never intended, imagined even—”

“I did discuss this with Hartmann and I’m sure the two of you will make some decision. But think about it. You might need to make a choice here about what you want in your life, from your career. Take it from an old man who’s been here for a while. Daniel Hartmann, the man, is not a retirement fund.”

Daniel was a serial dater; I knew this. From Vogue, Page Six, Cosmopolitan, The Wall Street Journal even. The night Angelika threw her glass of water on him in the Lilliputian Room in Manhattan everyone had heard her yell that he’d die alone. Yet women still seemed to think they could be the one to make him settle down. But Lance couldn’t know he had nothing to worry about where I was concerned. I wasn’t in this for the ring and the generous pre-nup. In fact, I came from a line of women who knew how to walk away from rich men. At best, I was in this for six more weeks of pleasure. At worst, if I found it in myself to drag up the old resentment, I was dating Daniel for the sole purpose of learning his weaknesses and bringing him down.

But to the rest of the world, that looked different. I’d been acting as if I were in love.

“Thank you for your concern,” I said simply, trying desperately to blink away the sting of embarrassed tears. Of tears from some other emotion I didn’t even know how to name. A sense of loss, maybe? Desperation? Whatever it was, I needed to escape from it.

I left Lance’s office and went straight to the elevator bank. Pressed the up button. Waited, blinking. Lance was right.

I heard Janine’s voice before the elevator doors even fully opened. Confident, strident, high-powered even though she was an executive assistant—a position I would never before this summer have imagined as being a position of power. I watched the woman hang up the phone as she looked up at me.

“He’s in a meeting.”

“I need to speak with him. I’ll wait.”

Janine looked as if she wanted to say something and then shrugged. We’d never become “friendly” but today she looked almost sympathetic toward me. I took a seat on one of the cream leather chairs, all too aware of that something that the woman hadn’t said.

But I was going to quit. I was going to quit him and this whole mess too. I knew plenty about Daniel Hartmann, CEO of Hartmann Enterprises. Enough to do at least some damage to his plans if I were wily enough. But as I also knew about the man, I was never going to do anything with any of this information; I was lying to myself if I pretended otherwise. In the meantime, I was letting my real life pass me by. Perhaps even irrevocably.

The glass doors opened, on a cloud of genial laughter, the sound of a meeting ending. Two men in suits walked out and behind them Daniel stood, holding the door, smiling. So handsome it made my chest ache. So familiar now. Mine to touch but not mine. A stranger still.

He glanced my way. The smile flickered. Then his attention was back on the men and he was wishing them a good day, holding up his right hand for one last salutation before they boarded the elevator.

I stood, smoothed my skirt down.

“A nice surprise,” he said, gesturing for me to enter. I slid by him. When he followed me, I felt the caress of his hand on my hip as a yearning desire. Nostalgia, already, for something passed.

“Is it a surprise, really?” I managed over the choking sadness. How, in four weeks, had I gotten so involved in this? With him? His hand on my lower back, he directed me to the sofa. That touch grew in my mind until it was all I could think about. I savored the feeling and when I sat, his hand was gone. He sat down next to me.

“No, I suppose not. I met with Lance this morning.” His expression turned serious. “I am sorry, Emily, but he’s right. We’ll pay a month’s severance.” His hand was on my knee now. “Listen, I’ll call some friends. You tell me where you want to work. Marketing again? Maybe something a bit more artistic?”

“I don’t need you to find me work. It’s fine. I understand. In reality, I should never have taken this job in the first place. I’m an artist not a corporate hack. No offense.”

He laughed, looking a little relieved, but also confused. This was the moment he should ask me why I had taken the job in the first place. Instead he said, “I’ll make it up to you, though. Even better. Come with me this weekend. I have a business meeting out in the Hamptons.”

He wanted to spend the weekend with me. In the Hamptons. I could almost smell the salt air and feel the sand under my toes.

He stood, walked back to his desk, as if I were ready to make plans, everything was settled, taken care of.

I could let it be. Or I could take a deep breath and—

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”

There, I’d done it. Been brave, said the right thing.

Silence. I averted my gaze, terrified that he’d refuse, terrified that he’d agree and let me go that easily.

“You’d rather keep working here,” he said flatly. “I was under the impression that … ”

“No, I mean, I can’t keep working here, clearly. No one respects me.” He looked startled at that. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t act so surprised. But beyond that, really, it’s not what I should be doing. It would be … a different life. Safer than I want. No, I think when I leave, I should really leave.”

“Because you’ve satisfied your curiosity?” he asked quietly, but there was something dangerous about the intensity of his voice.

I looked at him helplessly. Honesty now.

“Daniel, I don’t know what I’m doing here, with you of all people.”

He walked back to me, took me in his arms and it was sick how his touch made me melt, made me long for things I shouldn’t want. He knew it too.

“You said you don’t want safe. Well, you and me, we aren’t safe at all.”

I was still thinking about his words when his lips touched my neck, when he stole the breath from my thoughts.

Then when he’d given me the smallest bit of space, I grasped the half-completed idea that the relationship was like quicksand, and every time one of us tried to pull away—

“Come with me this weekend. Forget about everything else.”

What had that thought been? I blinked, staring up at his face, at all its beautiful and familiar parts.

“Hamptons?” I repeated and he nodded.

It was enticing, indulgent. A farewell weekend. Why not, as he said, forget everything else? When else in my life would I be visiting these places in the company of a man who could afford to be there?

In whose arms I couldn’t nearly afford to be.