122
“Rosalie.” I smile graciously as I arrive. I don’t wait for her to announce my presence to Jake; his door is half-open, so I walk straight in. He’s typing on his laptop. Eyes narrowed in concentration. The sight of him jars me; he’s wearing a pale blue shirt, open, as usual, at the collar, sleeves rolled up. His dark hair is freshly trimmed and styled. He looks too divine for words, and I can almost forget how pissed I am at him for a second. He looks like a model for Businessman of the Year, and I still my beating heart and clear my throat to catch his attention.
“Sit, Emma,” he says without looking up, thrusting a thumb to the chair beside his desk.
Hmmm. Like father like son!
“You’d better shut the door too,” he adds as I move toward the chair. I sigh loudly, then turn and shut the door. I should be acting grateful instead of irritated because I know he’s calling me here to talk about Dan Gabrielle, but what happened between Jake and me last night left me feeling raw and irritated. I’m hurt.
The look on his face doesn’t bode well; maybe he couldn’t fire him after all. I walk around his desk and slide into the seat closest to him. It reminds me of the many times I’ve sat here before, wasting time, chatting with my ex-boss, and laughing until my sides ached. And now here we are, like strangers. I miss ‘funny Jake.’ I miss all those moments.
As I sit, I catch his eyes running over my exposed legs below my skirt, and then he shifts in his chair as though he’s suddenly extremely uncomfortable. He shuts his laptop and swivels his seat to face me; his expression is grim.
“So, this morning, I sat in a board room with half of Legal, three from HR, and Margo, negotiating Gabriel’s early retirement. He accepted the severance package. He’s gone.” His tone is almost nasty, his fire-filled green eyes are narrowed, and he doesn’t sound happy.
“You’re mad about that?” I feel instantly guilty, wary of his unusual mood, and fully aware this is my fault.
Has he changed his mind about sacking Gabriel after all? Maybe he thinks I overreacted last night?
“No, Emma. I’m mad that the son of a bitch got paid off to leave. That I couldn’t just fire him outright. Legal was all over my ass and brokered a deal because they didn’t want a messy sexual harassment case… bad for business,” he snarls through gritted teeth, turning back to his desk and clenching fists on either side of his laptop.
“I see.” I sound small and childlike. I should’ve known this could happen since sexual harassment is still taboo in this crazy world of high-profile businesses and men in suits.
“I did some digging; his last four assistants left quickly. I contacted three of them, and they agreed to come forward about his advances. You weren’t the only one. He’s a snake.” Jake growls at his fists, and the air thins around us.
“If he’s going, then why are you pursuing it?” Agitation lifts my shoulders, making me tense, and I sigh. He has no idea how hard it is for me to sit here with him, clearly avoiding all talk of last night and acting as if nothing happened.
“Because making him retire early and giving him a huge sum of money is not dealing with it. I’m pissed. I want his ass raked over coals, and I’ll ensure he gets what he deserves. And what he deserves isn’t my money!” He slams his palms on the table, and I cringe at the sound.
“Why are you taking this so personally?” I snap, nervy with his aggression and not in the mood for his Carrero temper today. I’m uneasy as hell, and this is not where I want to be. “You just saved a lot of future assistants from being groped, regardless.”
“Because it is fucking personal!” he snaps back, standing suddenly and stalking past me to his drink cabinet. “He laid his hands on you!” He clatters decanters, indicating just how angry he is, and I take a steadying breath, my heart aching but this time not in pain.
Why does he always have to say things like this? Making me hope that there’s more to us than this weird to-ing and fro-ing thing we do.
He comes over and thrusts a glass in my hand, returning to his seat with his own, and I look down at the amber liquid. I can smell it from here, the strong stench of brandy. I hesitate but take a sip of the burning drink, coughing and placing it on his desk instead. His temper dissipates slightly as he slugs his back and slides his glass next to mine.
“What happens now?” I eye him warily as he turns to gaze out on the skyline, every muscle in his body taut while emitting fierce energy.
“I told you. He’s gone. As far as you’re concerned, it’s done. No one knows anything about you; I made sure of that,” he says, low and snappy.
“So, I guess … thank you, Jake.” I smile softly as he turns to look at me, and I try so hard to seem amiable and genuinely thankful.
I really do mean thank you. He’s no idea what he’s done for me.
He sighs heavily, his body relaxing slightly, and he turns to me and watches me closely. His brows furrow, and his gaze intensifies.
“Look, Emma … about last night … I’m sorry I acted like an asshole.” Okay, that now. Great! At least he sounds sorry.
I’m taken aback by this revelation. I never thought he’d mention last night again, especially with how he acted a moment ago. I glance away, embarrassment enveloping my face knowing it wasn’t all one-sided, yet I still feel shameful.
“You confuse me,” I mutter quietly, focusing on the art on the far wall, unable to make eye contact while this subject lingers in the air. I can see him from the corner of my eye as he leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his legs. He rubs his palms together slowly and then rubs his face.
“I know. Which is why I need to say this.” He slides up as I turn to look at him, his eyes boring into mine heavily. “You and I … we don’t work. Not as friends, not as boss and PA … not as anything.” He sets his gaze over my shoulder to the New York skyline outside, breaking the spell he has over this situation. “I think it’s best if we both try to keep our distance and keep things civil. I’ll back off over this Europe job, Emma. Maybe it’s a great idea. If you want, I can make some calls. Ensure that you get the position?” His voice is low and husky with no hint of emotion, and it’s like being shot.
My throat constricts painfully; it feels like he’s thrust a knife into my heart, and I’m bleeding to death. I can’t swallow or move. My hands are frozen on my lap; my breathing stills. He has no idea of the impact his sentence has on me. In one fell swoop, he’s broken my heart all over again and maimed me. I can’t stay here and wait for any more.
“Don’t bother,” I snap icily, rising from my chair, scalded by what he’s said. “I don’t need you to do anything else for me.” My pain fuels my need to leave and my hostility. I go to storm away, but he’s on his feet fast and catches my arm roughly.
“What? So now I’ve pissed you off? I thought running to Europe was what you wanted?” he yells at me, pulling me toward him angrily so that I stumble as I try to wrestle myself free of his hold.
“You’ve no fucking idea what I want,” I yell, yanking my arm free, enraged by the pain he’s causing me, infuriated by his never-ending need to manhandle me.
“You know what? You’re right! I’ve never fucking known! You’re like a goddamn enigma to me. Anytime I think I get even remotely close to figuring you out, you turn on me like this. Screw you! I’m done with this shit between us. Go find a job elsewhere. I’ll dissolve your contract, so you’re free to fuck off anywhere you please,” he barks, letting my arm go and raising his palms in agitation.
“Fine! Maybe you should! Maybe I will! Obviously, you feel like you have some weird obligation toward me; I’d be better off long gone, out of your life and company!” I spit and, this time, successfully storm off, slamming his door behind me in a hellish fury. Then suddenly, a loud bang and smashing sound comes from inside his office, causing me to jump six feet in the air; he’s hurled his glass at the door.
I’m seething, spitting nails as I storm back to my floor, giving glacial glares to anyone foolish enough to glance at me. I’m caught up in an argument inside my head in which I hurl every goddamn thing at him, which pisses me off. My blood is pumping at an alarming rate, but I know I will crumble when the rage calms down.
When I get to my desk, I yank my drawers open and begin slamming things on the desktop.
I’ll leave right fucking now. I’ll show him. I won’t even wait for another job. I’ll just go and be done with this crap.
I suddenly lose my resolve and slump into my seat dejectedly. Energy wavering and temper fast-dissolving away, I fight to hold back the tears now overwhelming me as my heartache clambers out on top.
Why does he do this to me? He knows how to wound me. And the worst thing is, I don’t even think he knows he does it. I hate him so much, but … I love him. More than anything in the world. I am so done feeling like this. I’m so done with hurting at his hands.
“Emma? Darling, are you okay?” Wilma’s concerned tone breaks into my train of thought, and I realize she’s standing almost in front of me. The scattered contents of my drawers are strewn across the desk, some on the floor. I look up at her tiredly. Jake saps all the life from me.
“Men!” I mumble breathlessly with a broken tone, instantly mortified as fresh tears start pouring down my face, shocking both of us.
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