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“Anytime, sweetheart,” she replied. “Give me a call as soon as you can,” she instructed me. “I’ll let our secretary know to expect you.”
I opened my mouth to object, but Mariah breezed from the room before I could gather my thoughts. Turning to Mr. Brockton, I let him have it. “You didn’t have to sic your mom on me.”
He raised his eyebrows, surprised by the vehemence in my voice. I couldn’t help myself. All the feelings of inadequacy were coming up. I felt like he had staged an intervention, and I was the beleaguered alcoholic who couldn’t get her life straight. I didn’t need that kind of attention from him, and I certainly didn’t need a free apartment.
After what Mariah had said, I was sure they would chase me down if I didn’t call them first. They had a plethora of hiding places for battered women, and I would be doing them a favor by moving into one. All I would have to do was be grateful and I could move into my own place with no strings attached. It was too good to be true. I felt like I was losing control over my own life, and there was no one left to blame except Mr. Brockton.
“Stay out of my business,” I warned him.
He watched me leave without saying another word. Arriving back at my desk, I instantly regretted turning on him. He was only trying to help. I wondered if he had ever felt lost for a single day of his life. Had he ever had to turn to anyone for help? Did he know what it was like to accept charity? Odds were that he didn’t. He’d probably grown up in a mansion outside the city, going to private schools and coasting his way through college. He probably had a job waiting for him the moment he graduated and a fast track to the top once his dad retired.
So what if he was being kind? That didn’t mean he could walk a mile in my shoes. And none of this helped my gas situation. I still had to eat, and I still needed the car to get to work. I put Mariah’s business card in my wallet, thinking I would get to it later that day. It wasn’t something I could avoid, but I could put it off for several hours. I had to think of a way to politely refuse her help. Either that, or I had to admit that I couldn’t do everything by myself. And that was almost as painful as the reality of my situation.
Chapter 7
Nate
I was shocked and appalled by the way Ava treated me, but I put it down to obstinacy. She was more than capable of handling her own affairs, I was sure. I just needed her head in the game, and I wasn’t sure I could get that if she was sleeping in her car.
I didn’t want to admit that I was worried for her. Though I had only known her several days, already, I felt protective. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her, and the police statistics were rife with incidents of single women being attacked while walking alone at night. Her assurances that she was safe parked behind some grocery store were laughable. If I was a criminal and I found somebody alone in their car at night, I just might help myself to anything they had lying around. And that was the best-case scenario for that particular threat.
No, she had to have a place to live, preferably one with a kitchen and a locking door. And I wasn’t above a bit of bullying to make that happen. Still, her acidic tone surprised me. I didn’t expect her to turn on me for trying to help her out.
She was quiet and friendly for the rest of the day, but we both knew that I couldn’t push her any further. I hoped that she would follow through and give my mother’s charity a call. Mom hadn’t been lying when she said there were several units that were empty at the moment. If Ava didn’t want one of mine, she could damned well avail herself of a public unit.
I went home on Friday night without checking on her. Since she’d made it very clear that my attention wasn’t desired, I would just have to trust her to connect up with the services she needed. Hopefully, she would see her way past her stubborn streak and accept my mother’s help.
For some reason, I didn’t feel like hooking up with anyone that night. There were a few women I could text, but none of them were exactly the person I wanted to be with. I got two invitations to go out for drinks, but I turned both down. I had a golf tournament the next day, and I told myself I needed my beauty sleep.
Fixing myself a brandy, I climbed into the hot tub on my deck. My first full week as head of the company was complete, and I felt good about the direction things were going. Ava was competent and smart, and with her by my side, I was prepared for every meeting I entered. After a lot of digging, I wasn’t able to uncover any crises. It looked like Dad had left me with a pretty good ship.
They were working on the spring line in Paris, and the manufacturers for the down market stores were right on schedule. There was a bit of a problem with Italian imports due to a new law, but my legal team was on it, searching for a way around. Worst case scenario, we would have to scale back operations in that country for the time being.
I climbed out of the tub after about half an hour. Wrapping up in a bathrobe, I spent the rest of the night planted in front of the screen. I had a wicked video game system installed in my living room, with stereo sound and dedicated monitor. I logged on to the latest battle royale and gunned my way through multiple levels. It was a little bit of juvenile fun to let off steam, something that was becoming more difficult to carve out time for.
A while later, I went to bed feeling rested and woke up early to work out. I had a home gym on the first floor, complete with treadmill, elliptical, free weights, and a pull-up bar. There was also a smattering of more technology heavy offerings like a punching bag with sensors that measured the strength of my fists, and a bike with streaming classes. I hit the treadmill for ten minutes to warm up and spent most of my time on my back and chest. I had a routine that cycled through the major muscle groups, toning, not bulking. There was a very specific look I was going for, and that was fit, but not overpowered.
Thanks to my father, I overanalyzed everything about myself. He pointed out every word that I pronounced incorrectly, and every hair that was out of place. For a womanizing cliché, he was remarkably fastidious.
I had just enough time to take a shower and get dressed before leaving for the golf course. I was actually looking forward to the game. Peter was my best friend, and I had to admit his advice about the open interviews had been dead on. If I’d ignored him and gone the traditional route, I never would have met Ava.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Peter said, holding out his hand for a slap.
I grabbed it and tugged, making a mockery of the traditional businessman’s handshake. “Same old.”
“Except you’re president of the company now,” Peter reminded me.
“And you’re still a poor old VP,” I teased.
“How’s the new secretary working out?” He pivoted neatly to the next topic.
“She’s working out well. I think it was a good hire.”
“Not too bad on the eyes,” he observed.
“I hadn’t noticed,” I said.
It wasn’t exactly true. I was aware that Ava was attractive; I was just determined not to open myself to that kind of relationship. She was my employee, my secretary, for goodness’ sake. I wasn’t about to repeat my father’s grave mistake and fall into the same category of offensive bosses who took advantage of their female coworkers. No, Ava was strictly off limits.
