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"Hmm, I see what you mean. It had sounded so romantic when you first told me, but I guess it’s pretty cliched, huh… Well, that’s all the more reason you need to replace that experience with something better. Or someone better! If not Tyler, maybe just somebody from work," she’d suggested with a giggle.
I clenched my fists again at the thought of her hooking up with someone in my company. No way, no one could dare to try anything like that. Besides, I’ve bogged Chloe down with so much work to keep her away from me that I know she can’t possibly finish in a day. She wouldn’t have had time to grab a sip of water, let alone meet someone in the breakroom for a quick lay.
There was a faint beeping sound and I heard Ella tell Chloe, "Oh hey, I’m getting another call from the caterer for tonight. I gotta get this. I’ll come by and pick you up at seven."
After a fraction of a second, Ella said, "This is Ella Aaron." There was silence while she listened to the caller, and then her hand slammed down on the countertop. "What? No, that’s not possible, I made sure of it. I’m telling you, that won’t work. The client was very clear about the menu. It’s an animal rights charity! You can’t serve veal! Never mind, I’m on my way."
Ella had raced out of the kitchen and collided with me. She’d been too stunned to ask what I was doing lingering in the doorway like that.
"What’s wrong, Ella?' I asked, trying to sound like a concerned father.' She’d looked like she was about to have a heart attack.
"Everything! The caterer got their calendar switched and now the entire menu is wrong. This is the kind of thing that can kill my reputation in a snap. I have to get down there right now."
"Oh wow. Okay. What can I do?" I asked, still trying to sound like I hadn’t just been eavesdropping.
She headed upstairs and hurried back down with a briefcase and a garment bag in her hands. She’d already been on the phone with someone else. She’d stopped in mid-sentence long enough to say, "I was supposed to pick up Chloe on my way to the event. She was going to help me with some final things before it started. Can you bring her? I’m her ride, but I have to fix this."
Before I could find a decent way to refuse, Ella was out the door.
An hour later, I’d walked down dressed in a tuxedo. I had no more excuses to stall, so I’d fixed myself a very small shot of whiskey and threw it back. Liquid courage, as people always say. I hadn’t needed to look up Chloe’s address. I’d been past her apartment building several times, partly to see that she was home okay, partly to make sure that she was home alone. I’d left my car double parked in the street and went up to her door. As soon as she opened it, I could tell that was uncomfortable. Even though Ella had surely called or texted that I’d be picking her up, Chloe still looked as though she wasn't expecting to see me… or was hoping I wouldn’t show.
And now I’m here, speechless, staring at her. She looks breathtaking–almost sinfully and illegally so–in the dress she has on. The fabric hugs her curves with graceful precision, accentuating every contour and emphasizing her slender waist. The many delicate crisscross straps weave around each otherjust above the pale contour of her breast, creating a pattern that draws attention to her neckline. She’s styled her hair in loose waves which cascade down her back. Her face goes flush when we lock eyes. She looks innocent, and I can never decide if she’s a sweet and delicate doe or a confident and arrogant temptress.
"Are you ready?" I ask, determined to get this hellacious car trip over with.
"Almost," she answers, then looks from me to the door like she wants to bolt. She bites her lips looking nervously at me. Is she trying to get away from me?
"What are you hiding behind your back?" I ask. She shakes her head and moves backward. Her actions make me curious. I stride towards her and she keeps moving backwards until she hits her leg on the coffee table.
I see it then, what she has been trying to hide from me: her zipper.
"Let me help you with that."
"It's okay, I can manage."
"If you could, you would have done it already." I come closer and she inches back again. "I just want to help."
She scoffs. "I know better. I don’t exactly have any reason to think you’re a nice person. No thanks, I’ll figure it out by myself, as I always do."
"Why go through that when I can easily help you and save time?"
"If you’re worried about wasting time, then you can leave. I’ll just find a cab."
"Why are you being like this when I’m just trying to help you?" I stare at her in confusion as she laughs mockingly. So much for the delicate doe…
"Me? I’m the one being a certain way? Says the man who’s been acting like a complete prick for weeks. You know what, youcan keep being a jackass. It suits you better than your attempt at being nice," she says, her face flushing in anger.
"That’s no way to talk to your boss," I snarl at her, but she just laughs again. She cocks her head to the side and looks me over appraisingly.
"I’m not on the clock right now," Chloe says acidly, her eyes burning with something that looks awfully close to loathing. "In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t actually own me. This is my house. I pay the rent here. And I don’t answer to people who hate me in my own home. You need to leave."
She turns to leave but I put my hand out to stop her, letting it hang in the space between us. She looks down at it for several seconds, then back up at me.
"You think I hate you?" I ask, my voice cracking slightly.
"It’s obvious," Chloe answers coldly.
"I… I don’t know what to say. But I most certainly do not hate you."
