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“Now get out and do your job.” He doesn’t even spare me a glance as he turns around and walks to the window of his office that overlooks New York City.
For a second, only a second, I stand there and watch the hard ridges of his back. I watch how his jacket creases at the contours of his wide shoulders as he places a hand in his pocket.
I’m not even looking at his face, but the mere image of him turned away from me fills me with a sense of trepidation.
It’s the invisible line again. The knowledge that he’d never see me.
“Are your legs nonfunctioning, too? Or is it your ears?” he says without facing me.
“No,” I say, then quickly blurt, “sir.”
“Then why the fuck aren’t you leaving? You should’ve been out of here thirty seconds ago.”
I give an awkward nod that he doesn’t see, then I walk to the door. Every step is like dragging a mountain with each leg.
My fingers are sweaty on the tablet and a slight tremor takes refuge in my limbs.
It’s as if it takes superhuman power to step out of his office without somehow melting in the process.
When I reach my desk in the space that’s in front of his door, I throw my weight on the chair and hold my head between my hands.
Bloody hell.
I lost a few years of my lifespan in there, and the worst part is that it’s only the beginning.
The worst part is that what’s coming will probably be worse than what’s gone.
The phone of the desk rings and I jerk, my leg hitting against the wood.
“Ouch,” I mutter, massaging the hurt spot before I pick it up with a calm tone to my voice. “Hello.”
“It’s not hello, it’s Weaver & Shaw, Daniel Sterling’s office, how may I help you?” His strong voice filters through the phone like doom. “If you lack competence, how the hell did you even get the job, Ms. Adler?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry what?”
“Sir,” I grind out, my fingers turning sweaty on the phone.
“Repeat that, but without attitude this time.”
My nails dig into my skirt and I wish I could rip it and reach the flesh. Instead, I suck in a deep breath and say as calmly as possible, “Sir.”
“You still didn’t get me my coffee, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s about an hour late.”
I grab the phone with both hands to hold on to my patience. “I only learned about your requirements today.”
“So it’s my fault the coffee is late?”
Yes. Why the heck can’t he just get his own freaking coffee himself?
Because he’s a jerk, that’s why. But I can’t say that, or I’ll definitely get fired.
“No, it’s not,” I say with a fake smile. “I’ll get your coffee right away, sir.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I stare at the phone with incredulousness. Did the bastard just hang up in my face? Yes, he did, and I need to stay calm because murder will cost me Jayden.
