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I’ll admit that being his assistant isn’t as treacherous as Dalia made it seem. That’s probably because I’m only working an hour a day in the role, but still, I don’t think it gets as stressful as people would have me believe.
After I sit his coffee on his desk, I wait around for Declan to come in, but the later in the morning it gets, the more I see he’s not coming in. I sigh and decide to finish the training packet from yesterday. It’s going to be a great way for me to reconcile the issues I found too.
The day drags by when Declan’s not around, and I want to see him. I wonder if he’s purposely avoiding me. Did sex with me make him call out for the day? I’m going crazy not seeing him, not knowing, not being able to talk to him. And suddenly, what he says makes even more sense.
It’s never about my virginity. It’s about this. These moments after where I’m thinking about him nonstop. It makes the abandonment scars I have from growing up in foster care shine brightly.
“They probably know how he likes his dick sucked way better than I do,” I mumble the words, but the snicker in front of me makes my heart plummet. There’s a woman standing there.
She’s blonde, bottle blonde, big brown eyes, and a voluptuous figure that makes my slender curves feel vastly inadequate.
“Whose dick are we talking about?” The smile and laughter make me sink further into my seat, but I can’t run and hide. I certainly can’t say that Declan Daniels bent me over and fucked me in a million positions before sending me on my way.
I offer her a smile, and shake my head. “Sorry, just thinking about a really stupid thing I did.”
“Dumb off dick ain’t nothing new, but being dumb around here will get you fired. Are you the one that’s been sniffing around my accounts?” she asks with her arms folding across her chest.
“Who are you?”
“Tracy Zigler, Sales.” She fans her fingernails out in front of her to show off her fresh manicure, and I shrug.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m new. I just started the other day.”
She runs her tongue over her teeth and leans over to plant her hands on my desk. “I know, which is why I’m standing here and not in front of Mel in accounting. What’s your deal newbie? You trying to dredge up something to get me fired or what?”
“No. Why? What?” I can feel frustration building, and I don’t know where this conversation is going. I start again, saying, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb with me. You’ve been calling my clients and confirming sales reports, right?” There’s an accusation, but I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong.
“I’m just filling out this training packet given to me by human resources. It says here, in this manual, that accounting has a right to verify all transactions.” I point out the words in bold ink in the handbook Declan gave me to work out of.
“You’re not from accounting,” she says, punctuating every word with a finger jab onto the page.
“I know but I will be,” I tell her, mimicking the same finger jab onto the page.
“Tread lightly newbie and stay out of my business. You’ll ruin million dollar contracts by asking my clients stupid and repetitive questions.”
I watch Tracy storm away from me, and it makes me curious. So not only am I ignoring her demand, I’m doubling down and circling back. I head down to accounting and get all of Tracy’s sales for the past two years.
Auditing is a class I did really well in, so I have an idea I’m on the right path. She thinks she can intimidate me into not doing the job assigned to me. Besides, digging into this gives me the distraction I need to keep Declan and his dynamic daddy dick off my mind.
The months between December to May are crunch time for most accountants, and they’ll more than likely be pulling 60-hour weeks. I use the rest of my day reaching out to the accountants and companies on all of Tracy’s sales. Many were helpful and others were a bit annoyed. Still, I got the answers I need to relay to Declan.
It’s nearly 7 o’clock when I’m sick of crunching numbers and decide to compile my results into a report that I’m ready to send to Declan when I wonder if he wants me to bring this to his place like last night.
After shooting him a quick text, he replies that I can bring it by. I’m in desperate need of a shower by the time I arrive at Declan's condo, but I don’t care. We’re not going to have sex again, right?
Declan is sitting in his living room with some type of sports playing on a large television I didn’t realize was there yesterday. There wasn’t a tour or anything. I place the flash drive near him on the coffee table and stare at him for a minute in his low sitting pajama pants.
“I had an interesting conversation with a Tracy Zigler today,” I tell him, standing a few feet away.
“Tracy’s great,” he says and I can tell he’s slightly intoxicated. Is that what he’s been doing all day? Sitting around getting drunk?
This is frustrating. I’m not going to get any answers from him.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is even, as if he’s made up his mind to be sober for the rest of this conversation.
“I just wanted to tell you what I found after looking into things, and I may have found your spy.”
