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Nothing more. Nothing less.
I'd already taken care of the rent payments Jude was referring to, but unless he had a telepathic connection to my parents’ landlord, he'd have no way of knowing that I'd gotten them caught up on the payments as of that very morning.
I climbed to my feet and made my way to Jude’s desk. It was once again perfectly organized. I ignored that fact and placed my hands down on top of it, not caring about the papers that shifted beneath my fingers. I was glad when Jude kept his eyes on me. The only sign that he was affected by the move was the tightening of his fingers as he clasped his hands on his belly.
“Why do I scare you more than these?” I asked before reaching into my jacket pocket to grab a few sheafs of papers. I dropped them on his desk. “Why does the idea of letting someone in frighten you more than the idea that someone wants to hurt you?”
Jude barely reacted but there was something in his eyes that said I’d hit a nerve. I straightened, grabbed the first note and began reading. “You took something from me so I’m going to take something from you.”
I dropped the first note on the desk and then began reading the second. "You can't watch him all the time, Hayes."
Just like the first note, Jude didn't react. He merely stared at me like we were talking about the weather.
"He really is beautiful, isn't he?" I read from the third note. When I dropped that one on Jude's desk, I included the photo that had been tucked within the folds of the letter. For the first time since I'd started reading, Jude sat forward slightly. His eyes settled on the picture.
"They're called threats for a reason. They don't mean anything," Jude said. His eyes lifted to mine. "Cliff… Mr. Hayes is a target. Not me."
I dropped my fingers to the photograph and slid it across the desk. "Then explain this," I said.
Jude looked at the picture briefly then slid it back to me. "I don't have to. As I’ve told Mr. Hayes repeatedly, I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. I'm not giving assholes like this the satisfaction," he said as he punched his finger down on the photo. "Are we done here?"
"Yeah, we're done," I said. The outcome hadn't really been a surprise. I’d fully expected Jude to continue to play hardball but I couldn’t deny feeling a little disappointment.
I went back to the coffee pot and made myself a fresh cup. I could feel Jude's eyes on me but paid him no attention. When I sat back down on the leather couch, I took out my phone and began checking all my messages. Since I didn't hear any typing of keys, I could only assume I was providing the intended distraction that Jude would not welcome. I was proven right when he asked, "Are you usually this obtuse when it comes to being let go?"
"Obtuse," I murmured. "Can't say anyone's accused me of being stupid in such a fancy way."
I continued to flip through my messages and then switched over to the news.
Jude let out what I could tell was an annoyed sigh. "You see, Nikki, when someone tells you they’re done, it means they're actually done. As in adios. As in, get the hell out of my office."
I glanced his way. The agitation in his voice was surprising. He'd been so calm and cool throughout our entire encounter that it was strange to hear him starting to lose a little bit of that self-control now.
I looked back down at my phone and said, "Well now, Jude, the problem is that I don't work for you. When you start signing my paychecks, then you get a say in what happens next. Till then, I’m your shadow. You may not give a shit about what happens to you, but Clifton Hayes does."
Surprisingly, Jude didn’t respond. When I looked his way, I saw that he was staring at his computer screen. For the first time since I'd entered the office, I saw actual worry in his eyes. Strangely enough, though, I had a feeling it had nothing to do with me or the threats against him and more to do with whatever he was looking at on his computer.
"Pretend I'm not here," I murmured, just to see what his reaction would be.
His eyes darted to me. He had to put real effort into once again hiding his expression. I returned my attention to my phone but kept my ears open. Jude started and stopped typing for several minutes. Considering how he’d been so supremely focused on his screen when he'd been researching me, I couldn’t really make sense of why now was so different.
I watched him from the corner of my eye and noticed that he was becoming increasingly agitated. It was subtle, of course, but it was there. It was in the way he kept trying to straighten his desk even though everything on it was already perfectly positioned. Within a few minutes, I heard the printer going. It began to spit out dozens and dozens of pages. Jude grabbed a red pen from his pen holder and began to review the document he’d printed. But just like with the screen, he couldn't seem to focus on whatever was in front of him. His eyes kept darting back and forth between me and his work. It was clear that it wasn't his work that was the problem; it was me. A twinge of guilt assailed me.
