Page 11 of Delicate Angel


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“I’m going to get a few more things done here, and then I plan on hitting up that coffee cart downstairs. I don’t even care that it’s past four. I’m drained. So inevitably drained,” I explain as I click the send button to reply back to a client.

“I’ll head down with you. I think I’ll stay here a little late tonight, so I have a lighter day tomorrow.”

“Okay, just give me a few more minutes to get a couple more of these emails knocked off my plate.”

“Sounds good, babycakes. In the meantime, are you going to tell me whatever happened with that possessive hunk from the other night?” Kim raises his brows, and a smirk tugs at his lips.

“There’s not much to tell, honestly,” I comment while keeping my eyes on the computer screen in front of me.

“That’s such a lie. Tell me everything. I want to know every dirty little detail, Emily.” Kim leans back in his chair and casts accusatory eyes toward me.

I huff and roll my eyes, pulling my attention away from the task at hand. “I confronted him about what he said.”

“Okay, and?”

“And it led to some really intense sex.” I clear my throat at the end of what I’m saying and look back at my computer, but a set of feet heading in our direction causes me to look over toward the direction it’s coming from.

“Emily, come into my office,” says Michael, the fifty-something-year-old owner of the company. Kim and I work for Jefferson Real Estate & Co., and he’s the head honcho.

“Sure, I’ll be there in just a moment,” I say, and Michael walks off toward his office.

“What does he want to see you for?” Kim questions me with raised brows.

I shrug my shoulders. “I have no idea. Hopefully, it isn’t to fire me.”

“I highly doubt that. You do so much for this company, and they’d be a fool to ever fire you,” Kim immediately answers, and my mind’s running rampant, thinking about what he could want to see me for. I was given a job here, but I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m working my ass off to make sure I’m picking up the slack for other people and still doing everything I need to get done every day.

I suck in a sharp breath before I stand up, push my chair in under my desk, and then head off toward Michael’s office. I go up to the door and rap my knuckles against the glass before entering. He waves with his hand for me to come in, so I push on the handle of his glass door and allow the door to shut behind me. I head over to his desk and take a seat in one of the chairs sitting on the other side. “Is everything all right?” I nervously ask Michael.

He inhales slowly through his nose and looks me up and down. “I don’t think you should be the one to ask the questions here, Emily. I must admit, I’m a bit taken aback by your sudden changes. I expected more from you, honestly.”

Every bit of air in my lungs is suddenly gone, and I’m struggling to understand what Michael’s trying to say. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Am I doing something wrong?”

“I’m simply wondering why your work ethic has changed since I hired you. Before, you were here when I came in every morning and were still here when I left to go home. Now I don’t see you here before me or after me. So I’m wondering what’s going on.”

“Um, I was interning here at that time. I was desperately trying to prove to the company that I was a valuable asset, so I often worked sixty or seventy-hour weeks to do that. Since I have my job now, I’m on a more consistent schedule. I personally prefer working three really long days. That way, I can get a lot more work done at one time. The clients seem to like me working in this way as well. So, I pull three twelve-hour days and then come in another day for four hours. I don’t take lunch breaks on my long days, either.”

“I find it interesting you were working long hours when you were interning.”

I nod. “Yes, because, again, I was trying to prove that I’m a valuable asset to the company. I’m done with that because I was hired.”

“I liked your work ethic better when you were an intern.” His comment blows my mind, but I guess I should’ve expected some sort of reaction to my schedule change. “What sort of things will you do to make me believe in you again, Emily?” Michael raises his brows and then scans his eyes over my entire body, stopping right on my breasts.

I know exactly what he’s insinuating, and it sickens me. Nausea slowly begins to roll through my stomach, and my skin begins to feel clammy. It’s fucking disgusting. I debate folding to his idea for a split second, but I know I’m worth more than my ass or boobs. I’m an intelligent woman with brains. I haveintellect, and I’ve made this firm a lot of money in the time I’ve been working here.

I stand up from my seat and look right at Michael. “I was hired to be a commercial real estate agent, which means I’ve passed all the state’s licensure exams and certifications. If there’s something within my job description that I’m not doing correctly, you can let me know. But I’m walking out of your office. You can’t hold me in here otherwise.” I don’t wait for any sort of reply from Michael because I know he doesn’t have shit on me. So I walk out of his office and head over to where my desk.

“Everything okay?” Kim questions, and I’m sure my stress and frustration are written all over my face.

“I’m actually leaving for the day. I have this migraine that just came on when I was in Michael’s office. It’s probably best if I go home and lay down in a dark room.” What I’m telling Kim is total and utter bullshit, but he smirks at me.

“Michael is the migraine, no doubt.” He gives me a knowing look, and I try not to smirk back at him.

I grab my purse from the cubby in my desk, sling it over my shoulder, and head for the elevators at a determined pace. Within five minutes, I’m walking into the parking garage and heading over to my car. My phone begins ringing, so I fish it out of my purse and answer it even though the caller ID reads “Unknown”.

“Hello?” I say right as I answer it.

“This is a collect call from a Fulton County correctional institution. To accept this call, please press one and then the pound button,” a computerized voice tells me over the phone.

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