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The security guard turns a final corner and continues down a long, plush-carpeted hallway. Gone are the glass walls, replaced with dark walnut paneling and stark white paint. There are no other offices on either side, but at the end I see light glowing through etched opaque windows. He stops a few feet from the end of the hall, nodding toward a door.
“Knock, then go inside when instructed.”
“But… What—?"
He turns on the heel of his gleaming polished black patent-leather shoes and leaves without another word.
I turn back to the door, fussing with the hem of my sweater and admiring the intricate grain of the dark, solid wood in front of me.
With a sigh, I knock. It is the faintest sound, and I hope maybe the instruction to enter won’t come. Maybe I should just find my way back to my desk, grab my stuff and disappear.
To my disappointment, a low voice answers and my stomach drops.
“Come in.”
My heart thunders. There’s something familiar about the voice.
It takes a Herculean effort, but I finally open the door, holding onto it for a long moment. Floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides give a perfect view across the city and let in ample light for the enormous room. There’s a beige leather couch, a mature Ficus tree in a gleaming silver pot, a modern black desk and a wall of television screens like this is some sort of comic-book supervillain’s lair. Standing with his back to me as he stares out at the tops of the other buildings, is a figure of a man in a dark suit. The light streaming in from the windows around him makes him hazy and hard to define.
Maybe it’s Lex Luthor.
Swallowing against the nervousness strangling me, I step inside and the heavy walnut door closes with a swoosh and a click behind me.
I stand a few feet inside, unsure what to do with my hands, pushing them onto my hips, then dropping them at my sides, waiting for something to happen. A few seconds stretch and warp into what feels like hours as my body feels heavy and I can’t stop chewing on the inside of my lip.
I take a breath and finally squeak out a greeting. “Hello.”
The man turns, and I jolt, stumbling back, reaching out for something to grab to keep my balance.
“Hello, little one.”
“Jack?” He steps forward and the light wraps around him making his face and body clear.
“We meet again.”
I sense a hint of contrition in his tone. But I'm suddenly awash with memories of when he left me alone, half naked. My chin tilts up in defiance.
“I don’t understand. Is this a game? Because I don’t like games. Not ones I didn’t even know I was playing.”
His gorgeous lips curve into a tight smile and his eyes crinkle up at the corners. “Not a game, dear one. A big misunderstanding, for which I’m responsible and I am truly sorry.”
“You humiliated me. And, what are you even doing here anyway? I work here. Are you following me? Who’s office is this? You have friends in high places I’m sure.”
“I am sorry, Chastity. It’s complicated, but you need to know I was wrong to leave the other night. I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you.”
“I’m not a simpleton. I can understand complicated things.” I grit my teeth so hard my eardrums hurt. “I’m going back to work.”
“No, you’re not. You’re not going to walk out, Chastity. I won’t allow it.”
His commanding tone sends a shiver through me. I am suddenly aware of the charge in the atmosphere. I feel vulnerable and protected, even through my anger.
But I’m not letting him off the hook. I turn around and meet his gaze, crossing my arms. “You won’t allow it? Why not? You did it to me. Walked out.”
“I did,” he admits, running his hand down his beard, and I get the feeling he doesn’t admit his mistakes easily. “It will never happen again. Those phone calls, the ones I got when I was with you.” He shakes his head as he steps forward, his long index finger trailing down the front of my hair, then twirling it at the end as I twist my head pulling it away. “I ask for your forgiveness. I have a lot of things happening in my life. People pulling on me from every direction. Good and bad. I fucked up. I will never walk out on you again, Chastity. I am a man of my word, you can count on that.”
I step back, but his hands take hold of my hair at my nape, pinning me in place. I remember how in the middle of the bar he helped that waiter. How he did the right thing when no one was looking…
“You say that, but how do I know? I don’t know anything about you. Not really. And it’s been two days. You’ve had plenty of time to come back, leave me a note…something.”
