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I press myself against the seat back, moving closer to the door, putting as much distance as I can between us. It strikes me as odd that he’s suddenly so quiet. There’s no talk of who the client is or what they might expect like there was going to the Obsidian meeting. It’s another red flag, another thing for me to worry about, but it’s still not quite enough for me to jump out of the car and run from him.
I swallow, and my throat and mouth are so dry that they make a clicking noise that’s audible even over the roar of the car’s engine. Franklin frowns slightly, but he doesn’t make any comment.
We reach the end of the dirt road, and there is indeed a derelict looking farmhouse standing there. I’m sure it could be stunning with some work, but right now, it looks like a haunted house, and it sends a shiver up my spine. There is no sign of any client. No car, no sign of life from within the home. Nothing to suggest there’s anyone out here but us. I feel panic start to spread through me, but I keep breathing normally, keep staring straight ahead.
Franklin looks at his watch.
“Ah, we’re a little early,” he says.
I nod and clear my throat, determined to handle this professionally and not make a scene or embarrass myself. I have to get out of the car though, just in case. Put some distance between us. And if a client shows up, well it’s hardly unprofessional to be standing beside the car, is it?
“I feel a little dizzy,” I say, reaching for the handle to the car door. “I’m going to stretch my legs and get a little air.”
I get out of the car, and I lean back against it. I think of the view of my ass this gives Franklin, and I push myself away from the car. I hear Franklin’s door open and close as he gets out.
“Are you alright, Elle?” he asks.
He sounds genuinely concerned for me, and I wonder for a moment if I’ve gotten this wrong. If there really will be a client out here. I nod.
“Yes. I think I was just a little hot.”
“Oh, you’re a lot hot.” He smiles.
Did he just say what I think he said? Does he somehow think this is flirting?
He moves from his side of the car, and within seconds he’s in front of me, cutting off my exit route. I back away, but there are only a few steps to cover, and I’m pressed against the car. He closes the gap between us and reaches out and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Elle. But you know that already, don’t you?”
I force a laugh, trying to laugh it off, trying to get it to stop without having to say or do anything that could lose me my job. How could I look Falcon in the eye if I got sacked for not sleeping with the boss after all the trouble me taking it has caused between us?
He leans closer as if he’s going to kiss me, and I duck away from him. He laughs, a bitter sounding laugh that scares me.
“Oh, you think you’re too good for me, bitch?” he snaps. “You think you’re too hot for me in your tight little skirts?”
“I …” I start.
I take a deep breath and start over again, keeping my voice low and even.
“I’m married, Franklin, and I have no intention of cheating on my husband with you or anyone else for that matter,” I say.
He snorts out another bitter laugh.
“So, you’re nothing but a fucking dick tease then? Coming to work looking like that, flirting with me, leading me on.”
I’m scared, but he’s making me angry now. How dare he hit on me and then imply I somehow led him on?
“What the hell are you talking about? How have I led you to believe this would ever happen?”
He shakes his head.
“Let’s see. How many times have I made my intentions clear, touching your leg, your ass? And not once have you told me to stop. And then you came here with me. You expect me to believe you’re stupid enough to think there was really a meeting here? You just wanted an ego boost, didn’t you? A way to prove to yourself I was into you. Well, guess what, Elle. I’m very much into you. And if you want to keep this job or work in the city again, you’d better be willing to put out.”
“Look, there have been some crossed wires here,” I say, trying desperately to defuse the situation. “I let the touching go because I thought you were being friendly and I didn’t want to make you feel bad. But—”
“Didn’t want to make me feel bad? Well, aren’t you just a little fucking sweetheart,” he snaps.
