AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“To put it simply.” He clicked his mouse twice, and I wondered if this was his tell when he was annoyed.
I’d definitely oversimplified his company. According to the articles I’d read, Levy Development owned skyscrapers in nine countries and their profits were in the billions. They often acquired their properties by sliding in and purchasing in foreclosure auctions after the original developer went bankrupt.
“We’ll be traveling to Zurich next week. My travel arrangements have been made, but you’ll need to book your flight and room as soon as possible.”
This time, I wasn’t able to school my reaction. “I’ll be traveling with you?”
“Of course. You’re my assistant. Do you think I won’t need you assisting me simply because my location changes?”
I shook my head. “No. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Youdohave a passport, don’t you?”
“Yes.” My passport was one of my most prized possessions.
“Do you have a fear of flying?”
“No. Flying isn’t a problem.”
His chin lowered. “It’s settled. You’ll travel to Zurich with me. Make the arrangements.”
He turned away from me, his full attention on his computer again. I guessed I was dismissed, even though I had a thousand questions about what I was supposed to do.
I closed my notebook and stood, pausing to ensure he was truly finished with me. When he didn’t look up, I walked to the door.
My hand was on it when he called out, “Catherine.”
I turned back. “Yes, Elliot?”
His gaze swept over me. “Don’t forget to write down my schedule.”
“Got it. Black ink only.”
Chapter Three
Catherine
Five Months Later
Fortheone-hundred-and-eleventhday,I arrived at the office at eight a.m., sat down at my desk, flipped open a notepad, and neatly wrote Elliot Levy’s schedule in black ink.
And at the bottom, following the notation for his last meeting of the day, I included a postscript—which I’d been doing for a hundred and one days.
Yesterday’s had been:P.S. Are you even human?
The day before:P.S. You remind me of porridge.
Today’s:P.S. You’re intolerable.
Then, like I always did, I precisely sliced that strip off the bottom, slid it inside an envelope with all one hundred and one of the others, and returned it to its place at the back of my desk drawer beneath my box of tampons. In my current condition, I absolutely did not need them, but I’d found tampons were the best deterrent for most men. Though I regularly questioned if Elliot was a cyborg, I couldn’t picture him willingly touching feminine hygiene products either.
This was my only form of rebellion. Those postscripts allowed me to release a tiny drip of the anger I swallowed down on a daily basis. When Elliot’s demands became unbearable, I took out my envelope, ran my fingers over the one-inch strips of“fuck you very much,” and immediately calmed.
The therapist I’d been forced to see when I was a teen would have been proud…ish.
Once that was complete and my desk was back to its pristine condition, I ran through the routine I did before Elliot arrived for the day. Lately, it had been: bathroom, break room, bathroom, emails, bathroom, bathroom, bathroom.
The bean was more of a cantaloupe now and seemed to think my work time was her party time. She used my bladder as a bouncy pillow, which meant I spent far too much time running to the restroom.
