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“Sure. You should just call one of them before I do.” He makes a noise in the back of his throat like his decision is an amazing idea. Detrick leaves my office, propping the door open behind him. He’s gone less than two minutes before he announces, “King Huntington-Ward is on line two.”
“What?”
“You’re welcome!” Detrick sing-songs. “And I called King because you’re bound to believe him since you’re in aI hate Thorinmood now. At least this way you won’t have to moan about it.” He slams my door shut before I can yell any obscenities at him.
For fuck’s sake, I don’t have time for this.
Foranyof this.
I angrily jab the phone on my desk. Better to get this over with than dawdle. “If you’re going to use Jessica for this plan to reinvent Thorin’s image, then I’m withdrawing my support. The deal was to help Thorin with strategic charity work, not have a crazed woman threatening me in my office,” I hiss before King can utter a word.
There’s a long pause from the other end of the line. A masculine throat clears. “I am going to need more information if I’m going to respond to this allegation,” King’s deep voice calmly replies.
“Thorin’s ex-girlfriend was just here in my office threatening to expose me as his ex-wife to the press.”
King sighs. “Thorin has explicitly sent her away multiple times now. She’s looking for her fifteen minutes of fame after her relationship recently ended.” His exasperation is clear in his voice. “We’re not working with her in any capacity. When we were deciding who would be best to help Thorin, she wasn’t even in the cards, let alone a thought anyone had.”
“She seems to think otherwise.”
“She’s delusional. If she contacts you again, feel free to get a restraining order.” The way King easily dismisses Jessica loosens a knot in my stomach I was adamantly pretending wasn’t there. “Did she say anything else?”
“She said they’re having dinner later and she knows my dad cut me off financially.”
“I can reach out to Thorin to confirm if that’s true, but I doubt it is. Like I said, she wants her fifteen minutes of fame. As for knowing about your father, I’m unsure how she came about that information, though I’m sure if someone really wanted to know it wouldn’t be too hard to dig up. It wasn’t for us.”
Right. Because my life is worth having people delve into with no morals or ethics to stop them from prying. I sigh and push away from my desk as though the extra six inches is somehow going to stop the headache stabbing my eyes all of a sudden. “Thank you for your time, King.”
A small pause greets me instead of him immediately disconnecting the phone. “Are you…alright?”
Am I? Today has been a shitty day and it’s barely begun. “No, but it’s not really your situation to deal with.”
“Are you sure about that?”
The sharp pounding behind my eyes is beginning to make them sting. “We’re not friends.” Maybe I’m being bitchy today, but so be it. It’s not like it’s not a true statement. Wearen’tfriends. Never were and never will be, so whatever game he’s playing by trying to feign concern is just adding to the weight on my shoulders. “I have to go,” I quickly say before rolling forward and hanging up the phone.
I drop my head down onto my desk, letting the cool material briefly deflect the pain behind my irises. Keeping my forehead down, I reach up until I find the button on my phone that connects me directly to Detrick’s desk. “Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day.”
“Are you being held under water?” Detrick asks.
“I have a migraine coming on.”
There’s a click to the line, ending our call immediately. Behind me I can hear the door to my office open and with a quietsnickthe lights turn off. Detrick whispers, “I’ll go get you some Tylenol and cancel the rest of your day. Flip your computer to night mode so the glare isn’t as harsh if you decide to keep working.” He slips back out the door.
I let loose a long exhale, trying to bleed out the pressure in my head with the motion. This is not how I wanted my day to go. I have a laundry list of items to do and too many outside factors affecting my ability to do them.
Shoving away from the desk, I get up and head for the couch under the window. Thankfully my blinds are down so sunlight can’t get through. Flopping down onto the couch, I stare up at the ceiling mindlessly for a few seconds before closing my eyes. Stress induced migraines have become the death of me.
At some point everything in my life will go back to normal. Maybe not in the foreseeable future, but soon. All I can hope for is that my life doesn’t implode anymore than it already has. There’s only so much heartache a person can take.
“Try to think positive thoughts,” I mutter to myself.
Taking a personal day won’t affect my credibility to get my job done. Sometimes people need a day to reset, and this can be mine.
The world will not end and nothing on my calendar requires my immediate attention. Thank goodness I like to work ahead. Even my procrastination is still a few days before anything is due, and even then I tend to have a plan in place on how things are going to go.
Thorin’s life is not my responsibility. Immediately my eyes pop open. While that’s technically true, it’s also not. I’m supposed to be helping Thorin’s image recover from the dreaded things being said about him.
My nose wrinkles at the thought. I don’t even read the articles to know what is being said. All I know is the few things I’ve found out myself or been told by others. Reaching for my cell in my pocket, I pull it out and wince at the light. Opening up the search bar, I type in Thorin’s name and watch as hundreds upon hundreds of articles appear.
