Well, she’s about to find out.
Chapter 3 - Annika
Within the safe confines of my office, I can finally breathe—even if it’s momentarily, long enough to gather my thoughts.
Marry Henry Ralph? Marry my boss?
What the hell has gotten into him? Has he lost his mind?
I don’t care about some deal he’s trying to cut. I don’t care that someone else is trying to marry him. I won’t marry that asshole if he’s the last man on Earth!
Running my fingers through my hair, I feel his looming presence in the hallway before I hear his footsteps, and I decide to gather my composure before he catches me losing my mind in my office. The last thing I need is to give him the satisfaction of disrupting my peace, and even though it’s been shattered, I’d rather die than let him know that.
That’s why I’m back at my desk, behind my computer, acting busy by the time he returns to his office. I don’t even look up from the screen, typing nonsense on a blank screen, adding a few curses directed at him as if I’m a witch typing out spells like a recipe book. Doing redundant tasks seems to be working, and I even make a note to call my sister once I’m home.
I can’t wait for her to hear all about this!
The knock on my door startles me, I’m so focused on keeping my mind off him, and I’m afraid that it’s him at the door. But when I look up, I find Melissa there, and I call her inside.
Much to my relief, she brings in work that doesn’t need Mr. Ralph’s signature or nod of approval. I spend the rest of the morning with my head in my books until it’s time for me to make a routine check with my boss.
But by the time lunch rolls around. Mr. Ralph walks out of his office and briefly stops at Melissa’s desk before proceeding to the elevator. Frowning, I get up from my desk and meet Melissa in the hallway.
“Mr. Ralph just left the office,” she informs me, and I stifle the urge to go “Duh!” and roll my eyes.
“Did he say where he’s going?” I ask instead, and Melissa just shrugs.
“He just said he won’t be coming back for the rest of the day.”
I nod slowly, lifting my eyes to the elevator and picturing him behind the closed doors, and shiver when I feel his anger lingering in the spot as if he left it behind.
Of course, he’s angry. I just straight-up said no to marrying him. But what was he expecting? That I’d fawn and fall to my knees and swoon over his proposal?
Mr. Henry Ralph is many things, but a suitable husband is far from among them. Even if it’s just a legal marriage, he’d make my life a living hell, and I am not willing to sign my life away like that. With him gone for the rest of the day, at least I can concentrate without constantly having to look over my shoulder or hear his absurd words playing in my head.
***
The drive home is pleasant, my window rolled down, my favorite music blasting through the speakers, and my carefree shoulders bouncing to the beat. I’m singing at the top of my lungs, oblivious to the after-work traffic, riding the high that doesn’t involve my boss and his shenanigans.
“...Just making my way, making a way, through the cro—owd!!”I sing freely, tapping the steering wheel before turning on the blinker to signal a left turn at the traffic light.
The black car behind me does the same, and I notice it when I catch a glimpse of the rearview mirror. I shrug, continuing with the song, because there is nothing that will bring me down after the day I had.
I will not let Mr. Ralph steal my peace, and I have taken the rest of the day to bring my power back to center, back to myself, because that whole proposal was utterly ridiculous.
I finally pull up to my apartment building, leaving the residue and remnants of a strange day at the boom gates when I enter the parking garage. The darkness envelops me in a way that isn’t sinister, but familiar and welcoming, and I breathe out a sigh of relief as soon as I neatly slide into my parking spot.
Cutting the engine, I drop my forehead to the steering wheel and roll the windows up as the silence follows, and I shrug off the weight of the day like a ritual. Every day is practically the same, but today’s weight feels heavier, and the bottle of wine in my fridge whispers my name.
So does a hot bath and my bed.
“Ooh,bed…” I mutter, lifting my head when the little light from the lamp at the entrance of the building goes out, prompting me to turn my face to the window, only to find a face I was hoping I’d seen the last of at lunchtime today.
“Mr. Ralph…?” I mutter in disbelief, straightening up when he taps on the window with one brow arched expectantly.
I have so many questions, like what is he doing here? Why is he here? Is he stalking me?
I roll the window down again. “Mr. Ralph? Is everything okay?”
