CHAPTER 6
Kenzie
Oh, my God. I hate this place.
It only took me four-and-a-half minutes for that thought to pop into my head.
Barely five minutes after I’d stepped into the lobby, traveled up in the elevator and gotten off on my floor did I wish more than anything that I’d called in sick.
Because that was when I heard Reed’s voice.
“Kenzie, I’d like to see you in my office.” No question. No please. Just the request.
I waved to show I’d heard my boss’s request, then stopped at my desk to drop my things off. Sometimes I wondered if he didn’t have a security feed on his laptop, watching for the moment I stepped foot inside the building. How else would he have the uncanny ability to sense just when I was approaching my desk? It was unnerving.
I pushed those thoughts aside and hurried into his office. He glanced up when I entered the room. “Close the door.” I did as I was told—again without so much as a please—my stomach churning.
I was twenty minutes late, and even that was a miracle considering the way I’d torn through my apartment like a woman on fire just to get here when I had.
“Everything all right, Reed?” I sat across from him, reminding myself not to fidget. He’d know right away how nervous I was and he would pounce on it.
“I was going to ask you the same thing. I wondered where you were at nine. That’s the time you’re supposed to be here, right, Kenz?”
I swallowed over the distaste I felt every time he abbreviated my name even further. We weren’t friends. We weren’t even close associates. I barely stomached him, yet he treated me like we were pals—except I couldn’t imagine him ever berating a pal for being twenty minutes late to the office.
“You and I both know the time I’m supposed to be here, Reed. I guess you don’t want to hear that sometimes a person has a bad morning, huh? I mean, it happens. Josh and Bill stroll in whenever they feel like it. I don’t see you pulling them into your office for a dressing down.”
I couldn’t believe I had the balls to say it, and judging from the way Reed’s wide-set eyes widened, I wasn’t alone. I’d never so much as shot him an angry glance in the past.
What had come over me? Maybe the venting I’d done in bed with Aaron had planted the seed. I was tired of denying to myself how miserable I was, tired of reminding myself how lucky I was to have such a great job.
It wasn’t such a great job.
“What I didn’t bring you in here for was an attitude.” Sometimes I wondered if he heard himself when he spoke. How could he stand it if he did? If I were him, I would kill myself, or sew my mouth shut, or something. Anything to avoid saying something so stupid and patronizing.
“I could be at my desk right now, getting through a pile of work. Wouldn’t you rather I was doing that? We’re both very busy.” I stood, straightening my dark suit. “However, if you take a look at my record, you’ll find that I never use all of my allotted sick, personal, or vacation days in any given year since I started with the company.” That was in stark contrast to the men I worked alongside, naturally. They always found reasons to extend business trips—for as much as a week, in some cases.
Reed’s face turned an unnatural shade of red. “Fine. Get to work. We have a busy day ahead of us.” I sketched a salute before turning on my heel to leave the room.
I couldn’t help feeling proud of myself for standing up to him. Never once had I heard him use the patronizing tone he’d used on me with any of the men in the company, even men at much lower levels than the two of us worked. I had my own office, albeit a small one. I deserved to be spoken to with a little respect.
I wasn’t foolish enough to believe he’d let me go without punishing me. In fact, when the first of many emails came through with a wide array of tasks—all of which had to be complete by the end of the day, of course—I sighed with relief. I’d been waiting for him to dig into me from the second my butt hit the chair.
A knock at my door around lunchtime was the first break I allowed myself. I glanced up to see Paula, one of Reed’s assistants, standing in the doorway.
“Do you want me to pick up anything for you?” She gave me a sympathetic smile and I remembered that she had access to Reed’s email. She must have noticed the flood of messages flowing my way all day.
“No thanks. I have a little something in my drawer.” I always kept snacks in there, the chance to go out and pick up lunch being such a rare occurrence.
“Good for you, telling him off like that,” she whispered, then glanced up and down the hall to be sure nobody had heard her. I knew nobody would—it was after twelve, which meant the boys club would be out enjoying themselves. The place could be on fire and instead of helping put it out, they’d leave for lunch at noon.
“Yeah, well, I’m paying for it now,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“If you need any help, just let me know.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave, then left. Just like everybody else did.
Everybody but me.
It was nobody’s fault but my own, and I knew it. I was the one who wanted to get ahead, even if arriving at my destination meant rubbing elbows with Reed Kingsley more than I already did. There wasn’t a person in management who knew more about the day-to-day running of the company than I did. I was in closer contact with our advertisers than he was, for sure. Without their money, the company would collapse.
Reed seemed to think everything happened magically. As long as we posted profits every quarter, he was happy. Sometimes I wondered if he just sat there playing with himself all day long.
What wasn’t my fault was the way I needed to work two or three times as hard as any man in the company to just barely fall short of their titles and salaries. I was well-paid, but still the lowest paid member of the management team.
And they were the ones strolling in whenever they felt like it, taking two-hour lunches, leaving for the day when the mood struck. My favorite had to be Friday afternoons in summer when my coworkers would walk out the door at noon with golf clubs slung over their shoulders and not come back until Monday.
Business meeting, they said. They weren’t fooling anyone.
Meanwhile, there I was. Bright, efficient, always willing to go the extra mile. Rare was the evening when I left my desk before seven o’clock—even the previous night, when I had plans with my friends. That almost never happened.
Work was my life.
I kept telling myself it would pay off, but with every passing year that left me sitting in the same windowless office, my hopes dimmed.
One good thing about having an office without windows was that it made working until dark easier to handle. Hours after everyone else had left, I pushed myself back from my desk with a groan, stretching my stiff muscles. I always tended to carry tension in my neck and shoulders, and winced as my fingers worked those areas.
I checked my phone—seven-thirty already? I winced again. Yet another long day. It wouldn’t stop once I got home, either. I would be answering emails and reviewing articles until nine, maybe ten o’clock. I just had to get out of my suit and into something more comfortable. Maybe do something involving a glass of wine, too. Or ice cream.
As happy as I was to be leaving for the day, I dragged my feet out of exhaustion as I went down the hall. It was depressing, being the only person left in the office. The silence was deafening.
During the day, the halls rang with the sound of conversation, ringing phones, fingers typing on keyboards, copy and fax machines. Without that background noise, I felt like I could’ve been in some post-apocalyptic nightmare. It gave me the chills.
I took the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator. I didn’t even like standing in front of the empty reception desk.
When’s the weekend? I must have asked myself that a dozen times today. It was only Wednesday night. Two more days, then two days of relative freedom.
I’d work from home, as always, but I’d be in the comfort of my apartment, in my pajamas, with my friends going in and out.
They had lives, of course. Not everybody spent their free time with a laptop in front of their face.
I couldn’t seem to shake the depression that had settled in my bones, starting that morning. It might have been the beauty and sophistication of Aaron’s apartment that did it to me. When I looked around—even from the vantage point of his ridiculously comfortable bed with its Egyptian cotton sheets—I’d wondered about his life.
Was he satisfied? He certainly had the air of someone who was deeply satisfied with the way his life was going. He stood out in stark contrast to me, who hated just about everything my professional life had become—not to mention the way it leaked into my personal life . . . or lack thereof.
And for what? So Reed Kinsley could call me into his office to remind me who the boss was? What a loser.
I hailed a cab, grateful when one pulled up almost right away. My luck was looking up.
Now, if I just had Aaron’s number . . .
I bit my lip, stifling a giggle as I climbed into the cab. I didn’t need the driver thinking I was a lunatic. I gave him my address, as much as I wished I could give him Aaron’s.
What I wouldn’t give for a replay of last night.
That would be just the thing to relieve the stress and tension coursing throughout my body. My skin warmed at the memory of the hottest sex I’d ever had.
He was a god, plain and simple—what was better, he’d made me feel like a sex goddess. Every woman needs that in her life at least once.
Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.
And that was how I wanted it, right?
I asked myself that question as I watched blocks of skyscrapers whizz past through the streaked window of the cab, their lights twinkling, making me wonder about the lives of the people inside. I’d gone into my night with Aaron knowing it would only be one night.
But that was decided well before we slept together. Before he showed me more pleasure than anybody ever had. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling that way, not before him.
To lose that seemed like a cruel joke.
Oh well. He didn’t want any part of my screwed-up life, anyway. I knew that had to be true, remembering the kind-but-distracted man I’d vented to that morning.
Ugh, he had to think I was a whiny little brat. Complaining about my job the way I did, what was I thinking? And judging from his digs, he wasn’t a filing clerk. I was likely the sort of employee he hated, which would have lowered me in his esteem.
Looking at it that way made it much easier to accept that I’d never see him again.
I was actually sort of relieved. It would be easier to get me through tonight.