He leans in and presses his cheek to mine, his lips near my ear. “Hold your head high when we exit and act like it’s normal.” He nips my lobe, sending a shiver down my spine, before lacing his fingers with mine and leading me to the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he gives me a questioning look.
I reply with a choppy nod and he exits the bathroom first, with me doing just what he said, holding my head up and never looking at the woman waiting just outside. We are almost at the end of the hallway when a thought has me tugging on Shane’s arm. He turns to face me, a question in his expression. “How did you go from accusations to this?”
“I heard you meet my brother for the first time and I heard you taunt him over me. No one who was with them would speak that way to him.”
“But after that, by the elevator, you said me sleeping with you wasn’t me making a mistake, inferring that it was calculated.”
“No. I simply said it wasn’t a mistake and I would have come to your apartment and said as much last night, but I had an ex-firm call me about a case that reopened. Anything else?”
“No. Nothing else.”
“The time?”
He glances at his watch. “Six thirty.”
My eyes go wide. “I can’t sit and have coffee. I have to shower and dress and walk to work.”
“We’ll get it to go and I’ll walk you home and come back and give you a ride.”
He’s already leading me toward the counter, and I’m repeating the word “home” in my head. As in my shell of an apartment that I can’t let him see without him asking questions, I can’t answer without lies. And he deserves more than lies, but if I tell him the truth, he’ll hate me.
“What was that sweet concoction you were drinking when I met you?” he asks as we stop at the counter.
“White mocha,” I say and he glances at the woman behind the counter.
“White mocha and a large triple-shot latte.”
My mind flashes back to our dinner, and how he’d nailed my personality off my coffee, and I off his. I can’t do this and not just because I work for his father, which is a whole other kind of complicated. I’m quickly falling hard for this man and I will destroy him in the process. I have to end this and there is no halfway about how. This man goes for what he wants and unless I’m brutally clear, that will be me. Even quitting my job, which isn’t an option until I find another, won’t be enough. We both live downtown and I can’t afford to move.
He pays for our drinks and the minute he faces me, I say, “I can’t do this.”
His hands come down on my arms, warm and strong, right and wrong at the same time. “What are you talking about, Emily?”
“You all but called me a whore, Shane. You were an asshole. You are an asshole and I don’t accept your apology.” I shove at his arms but he holds on to me the way I want him to, when he cannot. “Let go, Shane,” I hiss.
He studies me, his expression unreadable, hard. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going home to change and do not follow me. Don’t be such an asshole that I have to quit a job I need. Don’t do that to me after what you did to me in your office.”
“Emily—”
“You touched me like it was your right in that office, Shane. Touched me. We’re done.” I turn and rush for the exit when all I want to do is turn back around. Darting past a couple holding open the door, I cut right, instead of left toward my apartment and immediately cut into an alcove in front of a closed office, sinking into the dark corner, and waiting. And waiting, but he doesn’t come, a reality that delivers both relief and regret. Sinking into a squat, I press my face to my hands, hating what I just did.
By seven fifteen I’ve showered and left a message for every job I applied for, and two temp services, and needing some semblance of control, a fa?ade of control at least, I make a list of their companies and phone numbers. A lesser salary somewhere other than Brandon Enterprises isn’t ideal, but a paycheck is what matters. By seven thirty I’ve dressed in a navy skirt with a matching jacket, paired with a matching scoop-neck silk blouse. My hose are black. My heels are four inches high. My hair is flat ironed to a rich brown shine and makeup is done in pale pink hues. I reach for the bracelet my mother gave me, but set it down. It’s too me and that’s exactly what I can’t be right now. And when eight o’clock arrives and I walk into the fancy Brandon Enterprises offices, I look like that someone else I’m forced to embrace. Like I belong here, even though I’m pretty sure at least one Brandon male is ready to disagree.
I stuff my purse in my desk, after taking out today’s to-do list, and I poke my head into Brandon Senior’s office, finding him behind his desk, scowling at his computer. Delicately clearing my throat, I say, “Good morning.” His head pops up, his eyes narrowing on me, and I add, “Would you like coffee?”
“What I’d like is the contract Shane promised I’d have this morning.”
“I’ll call Jessica right now.”