Chapter Two
Alana
I thought distracting myself would be easy, but putting what just happened out of my head is proving to be harder than I thought. No matter how many times I force myself to think about something else, my mind always inevitably creeps back to that moment, and I relive the horror again.
I can't believe he was standing there that whole time and heard everything.
Driving the company car, I head toward the laundromat, sighing as I’m forced to slow to a stop in gridlocked traffic. It’s always like this, which is one of the reasons I hate driving around here. I love inner city Boston most of the time, but having to go all the way over to the other side of town every few days to pick up his dry-cleaning was enough to send my nerves into a frenzy. Never mind the half a dozen dry-cleaners that are miles closer to the office. Some were even within walking distance. Hell, some even delivered to our office complex. That didn’t matter because Chase has a boner for this place. Probably because he didn't like the starch the other places used.
I finally make it through the traffic and find a parking spot right out in the front of Grind, one of the few places where Chase accepted coffee from. Yes, I had a list of approved places to get his beverages from. You don’t want to know what happens when I stray from that list. I detour inside and order his double shot latte, being extra careful to include his sugar, then I walk over the road to where the dry-cleaner is located.
Walking inside, I hand my ticket to the man behind the counter. He gives me a funny look and then disappears at the back while mumbling something under his breath. Okay. That was strange. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I get the feeling it’s not going to be good. I glance outside and frown. The longer this takes, the more traffic I’m going to hit on the way back, and the last thing I want is to give Chase any more reason to be annoyed at me.
I look back at the counter, relieved the attendant has returned with the owner in tow. Tony smiles at me, but he won’t meet my eyes. I wait for him to tell me what the problem is. Knowing my luck, his shirts are probably pink.
“I’m sorry, Alana,” Tony mumbles. “I don't know how to say this, but we're having trouble locating your order.”
“Excuse me?” I say, my eyes widening. No doubt this will be my fault too. “How?”
Tony glances at the other guy. I come in here a lot, and I’ve never seen him before.
“Marcus only started this week.” Well, that explains that. “He’s still getting used to our regular clients, but he’s pretty sure someone came in earlier today to collect it,” Tony explains. He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry about this. Can you give us half an hour to fix this? Do you have something else you can do and then come back?”
What the hell was I going to do around here for half an hour, other than panic about losing my job? Look for another one? Chase is going to kill me for this. Work will be over by the time I get back. Okay, so that part didn’t sound so bad, but still, I’m in enough trouble over what happened earlier. I glance down at the coffee in my hand and groan. I can already feel it going cold. I don't really have a choice other than to agree because going back without his dry-cleaning just isn’t an option.
“Fine,” I sigh. I scribble down my phone number and slide it across the counter. “Please call me and not Mr. Winston the moment you locate it,” I say sternly. He will freak if he finds out about this.
Tony nods. “Of course. Again, I'm so sorry about this, Alana.”
I smile tightly and then walk outside. I glance around, still not sure what to do to fill in the time. Then I wander across the road to the park and sit down under a large oak tree.
“Fuck,” I growl, blinking back tears.
I swirl the coffee around in the cup and frown as it’s delicious aroma engulfs me. My mouth waters as I stare at his precious coffee. What the hell. It’s going to be cold, anyway. I may as well drink it and get him a fresh one on the way back, because going in there two hours late with no dry cleaning and a cold coffee would definitely get me fired. I set the empty cup down on the grass and wrap my arms around my chest, the breeze cooler than I was expecting.
I'm so upset with everything. I know I don't help the situation with scenarios like this morning, but I feel like I'm underappreciated and underutilized, and it’s driving me insane. Sending me out to collect dry cleaning and get coffee when I’m qualified for so much more is so frustrating. Surely, there were better things I could be doing with my time. I didn't spend six years at college to do this, did I? Why am I even here? He’s never going to give me a chance. Even more so now.
Maybe Dad is right. Maybe I am better off forgetting about Chase and making my mark somewhere else…
As if on cue, my phone vibrates loudly in my pocket. I pull it out, praying that it's Tony with good news and not Jade, wondering where the hell I am. It’s neither, but I grin when I see Dad’s name. I quickly answer it, eager to hear his voice.
“Hey,” I say.
"How's my little girl?" Dad asks, his voice warm. I smile in spite of myself. Even though I'm not having a great day, talking to him always cheers me up.
"I’m okay," I say, trying to sound upbeat. Like always, he sees right through me.
"Are you sure about that?" Dad asks. "Because you sure as hell don't sound okay. Is it work again?"
I hesitate, not wanting to drag his mood down with mine.
"It's fine. I'm just having a rough day," I insist. "How are you?" I ask, changing the subject.
“Same as always. Doing too much, getting too old. You know how it is. Or, at least you will in about fifty years,” he jokes, releasing one of his trademark, throaty laughs.
“Maybe you should retire, then?” I fire back at him.
It’s a conversation we have every week, and he always promises that this year is going to be his last year of work. It never is, of course. I think part of him is afraid to give it up because it’s such a huge part of his life. He’s the kind of guy who always needs to be doing something, and if not work, then what? He’s definitely not the lawn bowls or drinking at the club kind of guy, and it’s not like he has a partner to occupy his time.
“Next year,” he promises. I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “And I didn’t call to talk about me. I called to check up on my girl. Work still a problem, I take it? Want me to come into your office and have a word with this Chase joker? I’ll teach him a thing or two about how to treat people.”
“God no,” I mutter, wincing. That would be brutal. “Trust me. I’m fine. And it’s Thursday already, which means it’s practically the weekend,” I add.
“Okay, if you say so… Can we catch up soon, then?” he asks. “So I can see for myself? And there’s something I want to talk to you about, too.”
“Sure,” I say, with a frown. I don’t like the way that sounds. Nothing good ever follows the words ‘We need to talk.’ “How’s Sunday for you?” I ask.
“Sunday sounds good. Text me the details,” he says, making me giggle. As if he can even open a text. “I’ll let you get back to it. Love you, Lanni. Don’t work too hard. And tell that boss of yours to shove off.”
“I love you too,” I say with a smile.
I hang up and settle back against the tree, taking the opportunity to close my eyes and just relax for a minute. I feel bad for not speaking to Dad more often, especially considering how close we are and the fact that we only have each other.
My mother died when I was only two. I don't remember much about her, other than what Dad told me. You get to the point where you’re not sure what memories are real and what is just the result of him talking about her so often. If there was one thing he made sure of, it’s that she wasn’t forgotten. Even as a little girl, I could see how much he loved her. That love, imprinted in my mind, is a lot for any guy to live up to. Maybe that’s why I struggle so much with relationships. Or maybe it’s just because I pick assholes.
There were never any other women in the picture when it came to Dad. I don't know if that's because he never really moved on from Mom or because he didn't want me to have to deal with feeling like someone was taking her place. Still, I hate the idea of him being alone, especially since I’m moving on with my life and doing my own thing. If he just met someone, then I wouldn’t have to worry about him so much. But, he’s stubborn and set in his ways and no doubt impossible for any woman to live with. A few months ago, Peyton and I tried to set him up on a dating site for seniors. It didn't end well, partly because he’s just so technologically challenged. He can barely manage to change the channel on a remote, let alone logging into a computer to check and reply to emails.
Still, he’s my dad, and I wouldn’t change a thing about him.
Finally, after what feels like hours, Tony calls.
“I’m sorry about all of this, Alana,” he mutters. “But we’ve solved the mystery. Mr. Winston sent someone to collect his dry cleaning earlier today,” he informs me, sounding pleased with himself. “I called him myself to confirm it.”
What? He already had someone pick it up? I punch the ground next to me, annoyed. I close my eyes and will myself to stay calm because it’s not just Chase I’m annoyed at. Tony called Chase after I specifically asked him not to?
“Fine,” I say, clenching my teeth. “Thanks for letting me know.”
I drag myself up from the ground and stalk back over to the café to order another coffee, tossing my empty cup in the trash along the way.
After battling even crazier traffic on the way back, I stumble into the office just before five, with what I’m sure is now a stone-cold coffee. I glance at the clock and curse under my breath. I’ve been gone for nearly two hours. My extreme absence hasn’t gone unnoticed with Jade. She stares at me and just shakes her head like there are no words suitable to describe how incompetent she thinks I am. My anger rises because this is not my fault. If he’d fucking told me I didn’t need to get his damn shirts, I could’ve walked the block down from the office to one of his other approved coffee providers. I’m going to fucking kill him.
Well, I would if I could work up the nerve to face him after what he heard me say this morning.
“Where are his shirts?” she hisses at me.
“He had someone else collect them this morning,” I reply defensively, gritting my teeth.
She, of all people, should have known that. It was probably her that went down to get them. She looks confused, but then just shakes her head and storms back over to her desk. It’s taking all my resolve not to follow her and tell her exactly what I think of her when her phone buzzes loudly on the desk. She snatches it up and lifts it to her ear, barking hello. She nods, scowling at me, and then carefully places the phone back on the receiver, before turning to me.
“Mr. Winston has requested that you bring him his coffee,” she says stiffly. “Even though he was expecting you back more than an hour ago, he would still like to see you.”
“Me?” I say, my mouth dropping open. I’m not sure I can face him right now without throwing his damn drink in his face. I’m still livid that he wasted half my day. “Why?”
“God, I don't know. What am I, his keeper?” Jade snaps.
“Well, yeah, I kind of thought you were,” I say sweetly.
She narrows her eyes at me and grits her teeth, looking like she’s seconds away from exploding. I know I’m baiting her, but at this point, I just don’t care anymore. This is by far the worst day I’ve ever had, and antagonizing Jade is just making it all a little bit brighter.
“Would you just take the damn coffee in so that we can all go home?” she huffs, throwing her arms up in annoyance.
Shaking my head, I storm out the door and across the hallway to Chase’s office. Five seconds ago, I was full of fire and ready to march in there and defend myself, but all that confidence has gone out the window, leaving me a quivering mess.
All I can think about is what happened this morning and what he must think of me. Get it over with. I take a deep breath and force myself into at least pretending I’m calm before I knock three times. My hands shake as I wait for him to answer.
“Are you going to stand out there all evening or come inside?" He eventually calls out to me. I wince as I catch the hint of irritation in his voice.
I turn the handle and take another deep breath as I push the door open and walk inside. I let go, jumping as the door closes with a loud bang. I’m clutching his coffee so tightly that I'm afraid I'm going to drop it, but somehow, I manage to hold my head up high.
“Your coffee,” I say, walking toward him.
I look him right in the eye, even though I feel like I'm about to trip over my heels at any moment. He glares at me, and I glare right back, hoping I look more collected than I really am because inside, I’m pretty sure I’m about to shit myself. I set the cup down on his desk and step back, placing my hands behind my back so he can’t see how tightly they’re clenched.
“No dry cleaning?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows.
I frown when I see the tiniest smirk on his lips. God, I want nothing more than to slap that smirk clean off those lips. He reaches for his coffee and examines it, then returns to staring at me.
“Thank you for the beverage," he adds, “I don’t recall requesting an iced coffee, but I guess it’s better than nothing, right?” He raises his eyebrows when I don’t answer.
“I guess,” I mutter, finding my voice.
“So,” he says, glancing at me again. “Is there a reason you’re not weighed down with my freshly pressed shirts?”
He takes the lid off the cup and frowns as he examines the contents. I stand there, my anger growing by the second. Seriously? What the hell does he think I've done? Tried to poison him?
“What, are you checking for those laxatives?” I snap, creasing my eyebrows. “And I’m not weighed down with your shirts because you already had someone else pick them up, remember?”
“Oh. Right,” he says, nodding slowly, a glint in his eye. “My mistake. I guess it slipped my mind. And as for whether I think you may have tampered with my drink?” He shrugs, his eyes gleaming. “After this morning, why would I trust you at all?” He holds the cup out to me. “Do me a favor? Take a sip.”
“Are you serious?" I ask him with a laugh. Then I frown because I’m not sure whether to take it from his hands or not. “You really believe that I might have drugged it?"
“No. I just get off on watching women drink my coffee," he retorts in a deadpan tone.
“Fine,” I sigh.
If it will shut him up. I snatch the cup from his hands and gulp down half its contents. Smiling at him, I hand it back. He frowns when he sees most of his coffee is gone.
“Satisfied?" I ask sweetly.
“Almost," he murmurs. He motions to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Sit down," he commands. I do as I’m told, still cringing over earlier and not sure what he wants with me now, other than to embarrass me further.
“Are you happy working here, Alana?" he asks.
He shifts forward in his seat and runs his hand over the light stubble covering his jawline, which sends a shiver down my spine. What I wouldn’t give to be the one running my hand over that. God, I can feel my nipples hardening at the thought.
I stare at him, remembering he just asked me a question. His eyes are serious like he’s given this a lot of thought. I don’t care how unhappy I might seem, I never expected him to be the person who noticed. I hesitate, not sure whether to be honest with him about this or not.
What have I got to lose?
At this point, I'm probably a couple of sentences away from being fired anyway.
“I'm happy,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “I just wish you would give me more responsibility. All I seem to do is fetch your coffee and collect your dry cleaning—”
“You returned without my shirts and with a cold coffee,” he reminded me.
“Neither of which were my fault,” I say defensively. “You had someone else pick them up already. You sent me out chasing my tail around for no other reason than to amuse yourself.”
“Well, that’s not entirely true,” he murmurs, his lips creeping into a grin. “How else would I have gotten this delicious coffee?” I narrow my eyes at him, and his smirk widens. “Alana, have you read the job description for your role? If anything, letting you handle the responsibility of fetching my coffee is a step up.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” I say, not bothering to hide my annoyance any longer. I’m about five promotions overqualified for the role I’m in now, and he knows it. “Fire me, don’t fire me, I don’t care. But I’m not going to sit here and let you walk all over me.”
“Okay, the dry cleaning was just an innocent mistake on my part,” he replies, folding his arms across his chest. “But how can I give you more responsibility when you’ve repeatedly shown me that you can't even get the simplest of tasks right?" he asks. He picks up his cup and drinks the rest of his coffee. “Like my coffee, for example.”
“Excluding today, one time in probably three or four hundred coffees, I’ve forgotten to get your goddamn sugar, and that's your reasoning behind not recognizing what I can do?” I practically shout. Tears sting my eyes, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
Breath, Alana. Don’t let him win this.
My fingers fidget in my lap as I try to control my tears. I do not want to lose my grip in front of him because it’s exactly what he wants. All I want to do is get out of there because this guy is a psychopath.
“Was there anything else you wanted me for?” I ask, my voice cold. “Because I have an appointment to get to.”
“An appointment?" he asks in his most patronizing tone. “Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from something so important," he murmurs.
I glower at him, wanting nothing more than to punch the sparkle out of his eyes.
“You're free to go, Alana, but I think we should schedule a performance review so we can discuss our issues in greater detail,” he says. He sits back in his chair and smirks at me. “Say, next week?"
I nod, trying not get flustered under his intense stare.
“Thank you,” I mutter, even though I still think he’s the one in the wrong.
I stand and walk over to the door, aware that his eyes are still on me. I shiver and walk out, refusing to look back. I only let myself relax once I’m safely back in my office and that door is shut. Thank god everyone else has already gone. I walk over to my cubical and slump into my chair, planting my head face down on the desk.
Holy shit, that was intense.
What a giant asshole. Adrenaline surges through my body, and all I want to do is scream. After that, I have a sudden newfound respect for Jade. I have no idea how she manages to put up with him day after day.
Hell, I struggled with the last five minutes.