114
I walk through the hallway toward my desk, glancing at the clock. I’ve been gone almost two hours, but something tells me Wilma won’t mind. Since coming here, I’ve worked like crazy, and she seems to trust my skills. I’ve returned a lot calmer and happier. I’ll gladly make up the hours at the end of the day to ensure she knows I’m not abusing my second chance at being here. She’ll be happy with that. Plus, now that I have a plan about what I’m going to do, I feel better. I’ve always liked plans and control, knowing where I’m going and what I’m doing. Despite not being exactly what I want in life, it’s a step forward with a new focus. Determined to move on, I have a notebook full of jobs to look at later tonight, resolving to apply for at least one.
I beam at her as I pass her glass-walled office, and she grins back, phone to her ear, and makes animated hand gestures. I’ll miss her even though my time in her department has been brief. I’m comfortable working with her. Something about her makes me like her; she instantly puts you at ease with a feeling that you can trust her.
The files on my desk are full of guest list suggestions from this morning. She wants me to research new additions, big names, and big money to satisfy the media attention, people who sum up what the Carrero name stands for -elegance, luxury, and grandeur.
My cell rings as I read through the list; I pick it up and put it to my ear, lost in the words before my eyes.
“Emma Anderson, speaking,” I answer distractedly, holding it between my chin and shoulder as I flick over a page.
“You’re going nowhere, Emma.” Jake’s harsh voice halts me, my breath catching in my lungs. My stomach receives a sudden punch in reaction to his deep familiar tone. He sounds pissed; his voice is deep and growling, terrifyingly close to my ear. I pull my cell away, scowling at it as though it’s offended me somehow, before returning to it angrily.
“I’ll go where I damn well please. It has nothing to do with you!” I spit. His domineering behavior has never been a hit with me, and I don’t fancy his chances now, with his reaction bringing out the fight in me impulsively.
“It’s got everything to do with me; you’re still under contract. I’ll make it impossible for you to leave until your contract ends … to the fucking second it ends.” He’s yelling at me now, like a psycho bull in rage mode. Ughhhhh.
What the actual hell? Why is he being like this? How is my leaving anything to do with him? Absolutely fucking nothing!
My rage flares dramatically, triggered by his.
“Why do you care?! You don’t want me around, but you don’t want me to leave either? That makes no sense. You can’t dictate my life to me anymore, Jacob!” I snap, taking the wind out of his sails slightly.
“You can’t just up and leave; New York is your home.” His tone switches a little to a slight pleading, but the moment I realize it, his voice changes back again, “And don’t call me fucking Jacob!” His temper matches mine, fire meeting fire. If there was ever hope in my mind of an emotional reunion with Jake, this proves I was so completely wrong. This, right here, sums up all the reasons he sent me away. This anger between us, always simmering for no goddamn reason, replaced how we used to get along.
Jake is a pig-headed, domineering, stubborn asshole!
“Last I checked, it was the name your mother graced you with; it suits you when you’re being an idiot. I’ll leave New York if I want …. Hell, if I want to leave the goddamn country, then you don’t have a say. Back off, Carrero. I’m not your PA anymore.” I let it out in a gush of emotion, anger, and bravado. Steeling the internal tremors of having him finally contact me, finally talk to me, at least I know he made first contact.
“Be rational, Emma. You’ve worked hard and come so far in this company, don’t throw it all away to spite me.” His anger is wavering; he sounds more like he is pleading, yet I am so confused and angry. I’m not backing down, not after the way he hurt me.
I’m also mad at Rosalie, although I know she wouldn’t have intended this reaction. Of course, she must have mentioned it to Margo, and Margo told Jake. I groan inwardly. There’s only one way to handle commanding Carrero when he’s like this.
“Butt out, Jake. I’m nothing to do with you anymore. That’s what you wanted, remember?” I retort coolly, and taking a deep breath, I hang up on him. I turn my cell off, my hands shaking violently. I know what he’s like; he’ll call back, and I won’t have the willpower to be quite so brave.
I inhale deeply, steadying myself against my chair and smoothing hair from my face to regain control. Taking a moment to still the absolute chaos of a train wreck inside me, I look around and see that no one has raised their eyes toward me; no one has heard anything. I’m visibly shaking and trying to cool it down.
Good. No scene. No damage.
Wilma is still on her call, writing notes as she talks. The other few girls at nearby desks are engrossed in laptops and papers. A man is wandering across the far wall toward the water cooler. No one has looked my way at all.
My desk phone rings, and I automatically pick it up.
“Don’t fucking hang up on me again,” Jake snaps down the line, my body sagging into my chair in deflation. I clutch my temple, a headache coming on at his grumpy-asshole mood. I know his side only too well, and I’ve no energy for it. All I’ve done is make him worse and antagonize the part of him who wants to lash out at me.
This is all I need. Well done, Emma, well done!
“I can’t do this, Jake. Please.” My voice has lost all its conviction; I sound weak and tearful. I’m exhausted. He exhausts me. This whole thing is exhausting. The last thing I need is this, him on the line giving me the Mr. Dominant Ice routine. I don’t have the ability to deal with him anymore.
“Do what?” He sounds genuinely confused, and I roll my eyes.
“I’m looking for jobs elsewhere. Nothing you say can change it. It’s better for both of us that way. Please stop calling me; I have work to do. Goodbye.” I don’t give him a chance to talk but hang up again. I've barely cradled it before it starts ringing again; the light on my phone indicates it’s an inside line. I know it’s him.
Screw you, Jake! Stop doing this. Please leave me alone!
I get up and walk away from my phone. It’s loud ringing drumming in my ears. Some of the others in the office have looked up to see the cause of their interruption at work, but they quickly look back down when met with my glare. I’m glad in such a brief time, they’ve learned not to mess with me; at least I still have that part of PA Emma somewhere inside of me. I walk to the water cooler and get a cup of water as the phone finally stops ringing, relief at last … only, it starts again seconds later.
Shit. I can’t keep ignoring calls. What if they’re from clients? Actual work?
I walk back and hit the button to send calls to voicemail, killing it mid-ring. At least this way, I can catch genuine calls, take messages, and filter out Jake.
I grab my iPad and a file, then head to the hall. If I go to the copy room to get the duplicates of some work Wilma gave me, I can focus on doing something menial until he gets bored and gives up. Unfortunately, I think that may take a while, knowing only too well that Jake can be as persistent as a toothache. I hope he’ll get the hint soon enough, despite the ‘dog trying to sniff out a bone’ attitude he possesses.
I notice Wilma observing me as I walk past her glass wall. I wave and point to the copy room with a smile and wander off as she nods at me.
I may have wanted to talk to you again, Jake, but not like this. You’ve shown me how right you were to send me away.
* * *
I copy the several sheets needed to make booklets about the status of the dance for the meeting tomorrow. Leaning against the side table, I put the copies into piles for stapling. My head’s spinning with Jake at the forefront of my mind, his reaction to my wanting to leave, and his attitude. I don’t get why he’s like this. It’s got nothing to do with him.
Is he worried he’ll look bad if I up and leave?
No. Jake never cares what people think; it’s his most admirable quality, no matter how annoying it can be.
Maybe he is just annoyed that my contract isn’t out. After all, I did sign for another year not long before I left his office; perhaps he wants to make sure he gets every second he can out of me. At least that’s what he said on the phone anyway. He always did see my potential. I’m sure he’ll want to keep face with his father after making such a huge deal about keeping me employed in the Carrero empire. This isn’t about me; I don’t matter to him. This is all about him in some vague, selfish way.
The door creaks open, and I turn, expecting to greet one of the girls, but freeze as my jaw drops and coldness sweeps up from my stomach to my neck.
Jake is towering in the doorway. His eyes are glacial, his body emanating extreme power and rage as he stares at me like a rabid dog. He’s dressed in tailored navy pants, a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and an open collar. His tie is loose and hanging down his chest. No suit jacket. He’s impeccably dressed but with the glare of a psychopath. He looks ready to take on a rabid beast.
Oh hell.
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