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“I’m sorry about all of this, Alana,” he mutters. “But we’ve solved the mystery. Mr. Winston sent someone to collect his dry cleaning earlier today,” he informs me, sounding pleased with himself. “I called him myself to confirm it.”
What? He already had someone pick it up? I punch the ground next to me, annoyed. I close my eyes and will myself to stay calm because it’s not just Chase I’m annoyed at. Tony called Chase after I specifically asked him not to?
“Fine,” I say, clenching my teeth. “Thanks for letting me know.”
I drag myself up from the ground and stalk back over to the café to order another coffee, tossing my empty cup in the trash along the way.After battling even crazier traffic on the way back, I stumble into the office just before five, with what I’m sure is now a stone-cold coffee. I glance at the clock and curse under my breath. I’ve been gone for nearly two hours. My extreme absence hasn’t gone unnoticed with Jade. She stares at me and just shakes her head like there are no words suitable to describe how incompetent she thinks I am. My anger rises because this is not my fault. If he’d fucking told me I didn’t need to get his damn shirts, I could’ve walked the block down from the office to one of his other approved coffee providers. I’m going to fucking kill him.
Well, I would if I could work up the nerve to face him after what he heard me say this morning.
“Where are his shirts?” she hisses at me.
“He had someone else collect them this morning,” I reply defensively, gritting my teeth.
She, of all people, should have known that. It was probably her that went down to get them. She looks confused, but then just shakes her head and storms back over to her desk. It’s taking all my resolve not to follow her and tell her exactly what I think of her when her phone buzzes loudly on the desk. She snatches it up and lifts it to her ear, barking hello. She nods, scowling at me, and then carefully places the phone back on the receiver, before turning to me.
“Mr. Winston has requested that you bring him his coffee,” she says stiffly. “Even though he was expecting you back more than an hour ago, he would still like to see you.”
“Me?” I say, my mouth dropping open. I’m not sure I can face him right now without throwing his damn drink in his face. I’m still livid that he wasted half my day. “Why?”
“God, I don't know. What am I, his keeper?” Jade snaps.
“Well, yeah, I kind of thought you were,” I say sweetly.
She narrows her eyes at me and grits her teeth, looking like she’s seconds away from exploding. I know I’m baiting her, but at this point, I just don’t care anymore. This is by far the worst day I’ve ever had, and antagonizing Jade is just making it all a little bit brighter.
“Would you just take the damn coffee in so that we can all go home?” she huffs, throwing her arms up in annoyance.
Shaking my head, I storm out the door and across the hallway to Chase’s office. Five seconds ago, I was full of fire and ready to march in there and defend myself, but all that confidence has gone out the window, leaving me a quivering mess.
All I can think about is what happened this morning and what he must think of me. Get it over with. I take a deep breath and force myself into at least pretending I’m calm before I knock three times. My hands shake as I wait for him to answer.
“Are you going to stand out there all evening or come inside?" He eventually calls out to me. I wince as I catch the hint of irritation in his voice.
I turn the handle and take another deep breath as I push the door open and walk inside. I let go, jumping as the door closes with a loud bang. I’m clutching his coffee so tightly that I'm afraid I'm going to drop it, but somehow, I manage to hold my head up high.
“Your coffee,” I say, walking toward him.
I look him right in the eye, even though I feel like I'm about to trip over my heels at any moment. He glares at me, and I glare right back, hoping I look more collected than I really am because inside, I’m pretty sure I’m about to shit myself. I set the cup down on his desk and step back, placing my hands behind my back so he can’t see how tightly they’re clenched.
“No dry cleaning?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows.
I frown when I see the tiniest smirk on his lips. God, I want nothing more than to slap that smirk clean off those lips. He reaches for his coffee and examines it, then returns to staring at me.
