Chapter Seven
Alana
“Alana,” Dad says, frowning at me. I wince, because I know I’ve been distracted right through dinner over what's going to happen when I get to work tomorrow. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I say, playing with my steak. I frown as I swirl my fork around the plate. I don’t even bother pretending like I usually do, because I know there’s no way he’ll believe that everything’s okay.
“Let me guess. It's work.”
I nod, praying to God he doesn't try and pry more information out of me because that would just be the cherry on top—explaining why I was on my boss’s balcony, all but naked, in the early hours of the morning. Why don’t I just recap the blow job conversation while I’m at it?
I sigh, feeling awful.
No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about it. I spent today doing everything I could to try and forget, but every time I close my eyes, I see him leaning against the doorframe, smirking at me. And that chest. I swallow. God, why did he have to have those muscles out on display like that? Seeing him with no shirt on had me thinking things I shouldn’t have been thinking. For about half a second, I found myself hoping he’d put the moves on me, but then reality set in, and I realized what a bad idea that would be. Way too complicated.
“Lanni,” Dad says gently.
I snap out of my thoughts long enough for my face to flush. I know I’m the worst company today, but I can’t help it. And I know I’m doing nothing to diffuse his concerns about work, either.
“I think you should seriously consider finding something else. All you seem to do is stress about that place. Surely, it can’t be worth it?” Dad asks with a frown.
I cringe because, although he's right, this time it's entirely my fault. In his defense, Chase has been nothing but polite, professional, and courteous. It’s me that’s been the walking sexual harassment case.
“It’s not that bad, and I'm handling it,” I assure him.
“Really? You’re far from coping from where I’m sitting. You’ve barely eaten, and you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he points out. “Maybe I should go down and have a word with your boss,” he adds.
“Please don't do that,” I say, mortified at even the thought.
Suddenly, I’m ten and back in elementary school, when my father went to talk to the principal about the two girls in the year above me who relentlessly picked on me for not having a mother. His interference made the next six months pure hell, though I’d told him that they had stopped.
I don't need him to fight my battles. I can fuck things up on my own.
“I’m fine,” I say with a little more force. I just want this conversation to end already. “I promise you, if this situation gets more than I can handle, then I’ll leave,” I say, trying to reason with him. I reach across the table and place my hand over his, hoping there’s nothing but sincerity in my eyes. I must be believable, because he relaxes and then nods.
“You know I’m just worried about you, don’t you?” he asks.
“I know, but maybe I should be the one worrying about you,” I tease.
“Why?”
“You’re getting older. You live alone. You don’t have anyone to lean on other than me,” I say. “Should I go on?”
He glances down and focuses on folding his napkin into quarters. I watch him, and then it hits me. Is that what he wanted to talk to me about? To tell me that he’s seeing someone?
“Why did you want to have dinner again?” I ask.
“To see how you’re doing,” he says dismissively.
“But you said you had something to talk to me about?” I press, not letting this go. If I’m right, then I’d be nothing but happy for him.
“It’s not important,” he says, his face going red. My father, blushing? Now I know I’m right. “We can talk about it next time.”
“Okay,” I say, with a smirk. “If you’re sure.”
He’ll tell me about her when he’s ready.
I’m exhausted when I get home, but I know sleep isn’t going to come easily. I feel like I’m awaiting my execution and doing everything I can to avoid thinking about it. But distracting myself doesn’t change the fact that the end is coming. God, I haven’t felt this nervous since Tyson Mills pulled my pants down in front of the entire third grade in elementary school.
Maybe on some subconscious level, I ask for this kind of thing to happen to me. It can’t be a coincidence the number of horrifyingly embarrassing situations I’ve found myself getting caught in. Maybe I need to take some responsibility and own up to that. I laugh. So now, I think I’m sabotaging myself? I shake my head, certain that delirium is setting in. It must be the fatigue.
By three am, I’ve cleaned the bathroom, my bedroom, and now I’ve moved on to the kitchen. It’s all I can do to keep my mind distracted and off Chase Winston. Nerves eat away at my stomach, making me feel sick, and when I feel sick, I can’t stand to lie down.
How am I going to face him tomorrow?
What am I going to say? He saw me in my underwear. How do we move past that and keep things professional? Is he going to be imagining me in my undies whenever I talk to him from now on? All I need to do is catch a glimpse of that look in his eyes, and I’ll know what he’s thinking. I shiver. God, I wish that thought didn’t turn me on as much as it does…
Somewhere between six and seven I fall asleep only to wake up what feels like seconds later. I glance around and realize I’m in bed and it’s my alarm I’m hearing. I try burying my head under pillows to escape the sound, but it doesn’t help. I think I feel worse getting a little bit of sleep, than if I’d gotten none at all.
All I want to do is roll over and go back to sleep and pretend the last forty-eight hours never happened. It rolls around in my head on repeat, like a bad song that just won't leave me alone. I cringe, my stomach churning. I feel physically ill. Maybe I’m coming down with something. My heart soars. That’s a reason to stay home.
I'm excited about the prospect of being sick? I’m clearly losing the plot.
Going in there and facing him today will be easier than to give this another day or two to fester in my mind. Not only that but going in there today and acting like nothing happened shows him that I don't think that this is a big deal.
My reaction decides how big this is, which means I can end this before it even begins.
My plan falls to shit the moment I get into the cab. The whole ride to work, I fight the urge to throw up. I can tell myself it’s nothing as many times as I like; actually believing it is so much harder. When I arrive at the building, I quickly find a bathroom and hurl up what little I had for breakfast. I feel marginally better, but that only lasts until I remember I’m going to have to face him today. I wash my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
How on earth do I get through this?
He’s going to love this. He will milk this for all it’s worth, and I’ll have to sit there and take it. I know he agreed he wouldn’t mention it again if I told him what happened, but even I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that. The only way he’s going to let this slide is if he believes that his teasing isn’t having any effect on me, and I’m not sure I can do that. How can I fool someone who gets off on toying with other people’s emotions?
Because I don’t have a choice.
Nodding, I take a deep breath and straighten up my shoulders.
If he thinks I’m walking in there, embarrassed and unable to look him in the eye, he’s got another thing coming.
The first thing I notice when I walk into the office is that Jade’s desk is empty.
The one thing I know about her is that she’s always early. Like obsessively so. I’ve always tried my best to get to work ten minutes early, and she was always already there, looking like she’d been there for hours. She was the first to arrive and the last to leave. I used to joke that it was no coincidence. She lived there because it was cheaper than paying city rent.
“Is she sick?” Peyton asks, her expression perplexed.
“I don't know,” I shrug. “But she’s late if she is coming in.”
“Very late for her.” She gives it a moment of thought and then shakes her head. “So, anyway, why didn’t you call me back?” she asks, as if just remembering she had something to be annoyed at me about.
“I was meaning to, but then I had dinner with Dad and I totally forgot,” I say, making a face. She nods, completely trusting that I’m being truthful with her. I mean, why would I lie?
Because I feel foolish enough about the whole thing, without having to put what happened into words to explain it to her.
“So, am I getting the details or not?” she teases. “Did you and Jake….” She giggles and does a little dance. Then she stops, her eyes widening. She’s not looking at me, though. I turn around, following her gaze. Chase stands by the door, smirking at me.
“Yes, Alana, tell me too. Did you and Jake…?” he asks, mimicking Peyton’s tone. If I wasn’t so horrified, I’d be laughing because he does a pretty good impression of her. “Can I please see you in my office, Alana. That is, if you can spare the time,” he adds pointedly.
I flush and get to my feet and follow him over to his office. Remember: Confidence. Eye contact. Own it. Pfft. Easy. I breathe out as he motions for me to enter first. I do, and he follows, closing the door behind him.
He smirks as I sit down. My heart races. He promised that he wouldn't make me relive the humiliation that I was already putting myself through every day, anyway. But why else would I be in here, if not for him to rub it in? Is this what it’s going to be like? Him finding excuses to get me alone and tease me? He grins at me, and behind that smirk I know exactly what he's thinking.
“I trust your day is going better than Saturday?” he asks me.
I glower at him, my anger starting to boil. He's enjoying this way too much.
“I thought we had an agreement to forget about that, if I told you what happened,” I say, keeping my voice cool.
“We did,” he nods, “but I decided to change that agreement.”
“I guess that doesn’t surprise me,” I mutter. He raises his eyebrows, daring me to say more. If I’m going down, I’m going down, saying what I like. “I mean, you’re not exactly known for keeping your word.”
“Is that so?” he finally says. His eyes twinkle, but my confidence has caught him off guard. “Enlighten me, Alana. When have I ever gone back on my word as far as you’re concerned?”
“I didn’t mean me,” I say, forcing myself to keep eye contact. “I meant, I’ve heard things about you.” Oh God, someone please stop me talking. “But the point is, you’re proving those rumors to be right. It doesn’t matter if I can’t back it up if you’re going back on what you promised me on Saturday, does it?”
He sighs and shakes his head. He frowns, but his eyes are amused. It’s like he’s getting off on the fact that I’m standing up for myself. Maybe he’s just in shock. Hell, I’m in shock. I never thought I had it in me.
“Fine. I won’t mention it again,” he says. “I’m sure it won’t be long before you give me something else to tease you about,” he murmurs. I glare at him, but of course, he’s probably right.
“If we can get to the reason I called you in,” he says, sounding official.
I swallow, my throat dry as my face heats up. He called me in here for a legitimate reason? I wish I’d known that five minutes ago.
“I was thinking about what I walked in on the other day. It sounded like you weren’t happy with the duties you’ve been given as a junior assistant.”
“I just think I’m more capable,” I reply.
He grins “You’ve definitely proven yourself to be very capable.”
I glare at him, not liking what he's insinuating.
“Is there a point to this?” I asked him.
“Yes.” He coughs, clearing his throat. “My point is this. Jade has informed me that she has left, so I’ll be looking for a new executive assistant. I’d like to give you a trial run. Two weeks to prove that you can handle the role. If you’re successful with that, the job is yours, complete with a healthy raise.” He pauses and smirks at me. “In salary, that is.”
I stare at him, in shock. His attempt at embarrassing me goes completely over my head because I haven’t gotten over the first part of what he said.
“You called me in here to promote me?”
He shrugs and leans back in his chair. “I called you in here to give you the chance at a promotion,” he corrects. “So, are you going to take it, or will I be advertising this position publicly?”
I know this is probably a battle that I don't want to be fighting, but the idea of moving up and being recognized for what I can do is too tempting to ignore.
“Can I think about it?” I ask.
He looks surprised. “Sure. You have until the end of the week to let me know your decision. Does your hesitation have anything to do with your little sidekick out there?”
Shit. I hadn’t even thought about Peyton.
“Not at all. If I decide to accept, I'm sure she'll be happy for me,” I say, hoping that's the truth.
I walk out of Chase’s office in a state of shock. That didn’t go down anything like I’d been expecting. I glance over at Jade’s desk and frown. Something doesn’t sit right. I don’t buy his story for a second. She hadn't given any indication at all to suggest that she was thinking about leaving.
Then again, I'm probably the last person she’d tell.
The other part of me is wondering exactly what this promotion will entail. I'm opening myself up to God knows what. I really want to prove that I can handle this, but how do I know he’s going to play fair? And is it a coincidence that all this is occurring after what happened on the weekend? I have so many unanswered questions.
The rest of the day I work quietly by myself, avoiding nearly every attempt that Peyton makes to engage me. If we start talking, I’ll tell her, and I don’t want to do that until I know what I want to do. If I can’t even tell her that I’ve been promoted or why, then how do I expect to handle working directly for Chase? Is advancing my career worth it, if it’s at the expense of my only real friend?
I’m beginning to think it’s all more trouble than it’s worth.
I rush out of the office as soon as work finishes to avoid talking to Peyton, but she corners me in the elevator.
“Want to come to my place for a drink?” she asks.
I take one look at the hopeful expression on her face and cave.
“Sure.”
I make the short walk with Peyton to her place, neither of us saying much the whole time. Once we’re inside her apartment, I prepare myself for the conversation I know we need to have. She pours each of us a glass of wine and turns on some music, dancing her way over to me.
“I want to talk to you about something,” I say, my heart racing. I need to get this over with before I chicken out.
“Oh? About why you’ve been acting super weird all day, I hope?” she asks, smirking at me.
“Sort of,” I mutter. I hesitate, the sudden urge to confess everything overwhelming me. “Chase offered me a promotion,” I blurt out.
“What? Wow,” she mumbles, forcing herself to smile. “That’s great. Congratulations. Did it have anything to do with last Thursday and what he overheard in the office?”
“I can’t believe you’d even think that,” I frown.
“Relax, I’m teasing you, Lanna.”
Even though she’s laughing, I’m not sure I believe her. She sits down and lets out a sigh, giving up her game. Her shoulders roll forward, telling me how defeated my news has made her feel.
“I’m sorry. I totally didn’t mean that,” she says. “If it’s going to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”
“But?” I prompt her.
“It’s just that Jade’s job is pretty much how far I can go with the qualifications I have. But you? This is just a stepping stone for you. You’ll do it for maybe a year, then you’ll be somewhere else entirely, and he’ll probably replace you with someone outside the office.” She shakes her head sadly. “I try so hard to not let this kind of stuff get me down, but I’ve been working really hard. It would’ve been nice if he noticed or acknowledged that sometime, you know?”
I nod, feeling terrible. I’ve been so self-involved that I didn’t even think about it like that. Sure, my qualifications outweigh hers by a mile, but she has something for this position that I’ll never have—loyalty.
“Anyway,” she says, wrapping her arms around me, “let’s move on. Okay?”
“No,” I say, not wanting to leave things like that. “Look, this has nothing to do with how hard you work or who deserves it more. Trust me.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, confused.
I sigh and sit down, gulping down my wine. The only way for her to understand this has nothing to do with her is to tell her the whole sad and sorry story.
“You know how I went out the other night with Jake?” I say, my voice small.
“And didn’t call me right away,” she accuses. “Too busy getting down and dirty, huh?” She reaches over and slaps me on the arm, a big grin on her face.
“Sorry about that, and no. You’ll understand in a moment,” I add, when she goes to speak. “So, we ended up back at his place, only before anything really happened, his wife came home.”
“His wife? Dude, you didn’t tell me he was married,” she hisses, her eyes wide with horror.
“I didn't know,” I retort. “If I had known, you know I’d never have gone out with him in the first place. Anyway, that isn't the point. He pushed me out onto his balcony—in my underwear—and locked me outside.”
“Fucking asshole,” she rages, her dark eyes flashing.
“Oh, it gets even worse,” I say in a grim voice. “I jumped one apartment over, because I figured if anyone was going to catch me, I was better off with it being a complete stranger, rather than his wife. Right?”
“Totally,” Peyton agrees. “So, what happened? You knocked on some rando’s window?”
“That was my plan.” I cringe, just thinking about it. “But that rando turned out to be Chase Winston. So, there I was, on his balcony. In my underwear. In the rain. At six in the fucking morning,” I say.
She stares at me in shock and then laughs. “You knocked on our boss’s window, in your underwear?” she gasps, between fits of laughter. Her eyes are so wide she looks almost comical. “Oh, Lanna! What did he do?”
“He let me in,” I say. I shudder, remembering the moment he realized it was me. “He was so amused by the whole thing, and I think he loved the fact that I was so embarrassed. I asked for a shirt to cover myself up, and he gave me something that wouldn’t fit even you,” I say, eyeing her tiny, petite frame enviously.
“And now you think that's what this promotion is all about?” she asks, confused. “Because you turned up on his balcony in your underwear?”
“I'm sure of it. Between that and last week, he probably thinks I’m an easy score.” I frown. God knows what this promotion entails. Between the blow job talk and the free peep show, he’s probably wondering what he can get if he pays me more.
“If you really believe that, then why not just say no?” she asks. Her eyes narrow. A smile creeps across her face as she reaches over and slaps my leg again. “Ah, I get it. It’s because you like the idea of him wanting you like that, don’t you?”
I open my mouth, ready to argue, and then close it.
“Fine, maybe I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to set myself up for disappointment,” I argue.
“What do you mean? Are you worried about him hurting you?” she asks.
I snort. “God no. I know the type of guy he is. That part is fine. I’m scared that I’ll get my hopes up about this promotion leading somewhere, when he has no intention of letting that happen.”
“So, talk to him about it. If he’s so sure you’re an easy lay, he’ll probably agree to whatever terms you throw at him.”
I think about that for a second. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I can bargain with him. I just want the chance to prove to him that I can be an asset to him in a business sense and not just run around him in circles, like a lapdog. I glance at Peyton, feeling bad for describing the job like that.
“You really think I can do that?” I ask her, hesitating.
She nods encouragingly. “Just keep your head above water and remember why you’re doing this. You’ll be fine, as long as you don’t get caught up in his charms,” she assures me.
“I can assure you I have no intention of letting him get under my skin,” I say with a laugh. “I mean, sure he’s attractive, rich, and he has the ability to make me feel like I’m standing in front of him, naked—”
“Because you know, that’s what you’re known for now,” Peyton cuts in with a giggle. I glower at her and then continue.
“As I was saying, I can think of a thousand other gorgeous guys I could be with who’d be much less trouble.” I say. Peyton raises her eyebrows, as if she doesn’t quite believe me.
Hell, I’m not sure I even believe it myself.
The biggest problem is that I don't know if I can be that close to him every single day and not give in if he made a move on me. And here I go again, thinking that he’s even interested in me like that. I bet this is nothing more than a game for him. I’m just another chick throwing myself at him, only I’m more creative about it than most. He probably fired Jade, just so we could mess with my head some more.
“Still not convinced?” Peyton asks.
“I'm just not sure that it's worth losing my sanity over,” I say honestly.
“What do you mean? It's a great opportunity for you. Isn’t this why you’re still here? Hoping for a chance like this to pop up?”
“But that’s just it,” I argue. “This isn’t a chance to further my career. He doesn't see potential in me. He sees a chance of getting himself some action. I’m sure that’s all this is. His way of trying to work his way between my legs.”
“What you’re describing wouldn’t really be that bad,” Peyton smirks. I roll my eyes.
“You know what I mean,” I say. “I don't want to get my hopes up and think this could actually go somewhere for my career and then have it fizzle into nothing.”
“But you don't know until you try. If you’re right, and this is all just to get you into bed, then you can sue him for sexual harassment and make millions anyway,” she says with a sly grin.
I chuckle because I know she's only half joking.
“I guess I don't have much to lose,” I say slowly.
She’s right. I can look at this however I want to. As an opportunity to further my career, with the added bonus of getting closer to Chase, or I can psych myself out so much that I decline his offer.
“Okay,” I say, my heart pounding. “I’ll do it.”
“Good,” Peyton says with a nod. “Now, where’s your phone?”
“Why?” I ask, confused.
“Because now that you’ve made up your mind, you’re calling him before you change it again.”
I scowl at her, and she grins back at me. “I know you, Alana. You’ll have talked yourself out of this by morning if you don't set it in stone now. Am I wrong?”
“Okay,” I grumble, poking my tongue out at her.
Maybe there’s some truth to what she’s saying. I grab my phone. My hands shake as I dial his number. I’m praying that he doesn't answer, but, of course, he does.
“Hello,” his smooth voice comes down the line.
My heart thumps. I think about hanging up, but instead, I swallow my anxieties and force myself to speak.
“Fine. I'll do it.”
“Well, that’s great,” he says. “They’re my favorite words to hear from a woman. Now, would you mind being more specific, starting with who you are?” I open my mouth, not sure how to respond to that. “Relax, Alana. I’m joking,” he chuckles.
Asshole.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say stiffly.
“No, you’ll see me tonight, actually,” he replies. “I need you to go to my office and grab the Fletcher files for me and deliver them to my apartment. You remember where I live, right?”
“You know damn well I do,” I growl, my face heating.
“Good, then I’ll let the doorman know you’ll be in. I’ll see you soon.”
He hangs up. I stare at my phone, in shock over what just happened. How did I agree to that? Is that what this is going to be like—being on call at all hours?
The plan was to call him and set this thing in stone, so I’d have the weekend to get used to the idea of working so closely to him. I certainly wasn’t expecting him to put me to work now.
“How did it go?” Peyton asks impatiently.
“I’m, uh, I’m going over to his place.” I swallow, my throat as rough as sandpaper. “Now.”
“Now?” she cries.
“He wants me to collect a file from his office and deliver it to him,” I explain.
“Then tell him to call an Uber,” Peyton retorts, waving her hand. “Surely, he can’t expect you to be on call twenty-four-seven, can he?” she asks. “You’re going over there and you’re going to set some boundaries. He’s seeing how far he can bend you.” She narrows her eyes when I flush. “Figuratively speaking, Alana.”
“So, what do I do?” I ask helplessly.
She smiles. “Use this to your advantage.”
“What do you mean?” I say. I have no idea how to do that.
“He wants you to work for him, and he’s testing your boundaries, so test his right back. Push his limits. Ask for more money or an even bigger promotion. Forget an internship. Ask him to hire you as a permanent junior analyst.”
“But that’s the thing. He has a team who have been there for years. He doesn’t even hire junior analysts. Only people who have years and years of experience,” I say with a frown. An internship is my best way to get into something that even comes close to matching my qualifications.
“So? The worst he’ll say is no, so then you say okay, give me an internship. But imagine if he agreed?” she says. “You’d be in, Lanna.”
My heart races as I think about what she’s suggesting.
There’s no way he’d agree to that…would he?