I had returned to work prepared to deliver my incomplete draft to Shawna; however, I happily discovered she had flown to New York for an editor’s meeting with the parent publisher and wouldn’t return until Monday. By then our final articles were expected to be handed in. Hopefully I’d have one to hand in.

I was too preoccupied to worry about it all anyways because I had brought the box to work. Once I knew Shawna was not around, I sat it on my desk and logged onto my computer. I had been hoping the hate filled message that had my skin prickling would bring on fresh ideas of how to crawl out of this mess. But it was only proving my sanity was severely fractured.

All because of Kean’s “I’ll try.”

Those two words would be the real obliteration of my life. It wasn’t death I feared the most but instead I was terrified of the heartbreak the doctor had the power to deliver.

Crazy? Insane? Maddening? Yes. All of the above.

My feelings made no sense whatsoever, but most the time emotions didn’t.

There I sat, senseless, staring at the box while the cursor blinked as it taunted me from the blank screen. I resolved not to follow anyone’s instructions. Not to succumb to anyone’s threats.

And I was buying time.

For what exactly, I wasn’t sure but I had the feeling it might be until someone tried to take me out for not following demands. I may have been a touch mad but I wasn’t stupid. I knew there would be consequences for my lack of cooperation. Whether it be my boss or some other psychopath I wasn’t sure. Both were trying to get me to bend to their wills. I just hoped to come out as unscathed as possible in the end.

Hearing the staccato of high heels approaching my cubicle, I rotated my desk chair to face the entrance as I prepared myself for whatever was about to be thrown at me next.

A large bouquet of gorgeous white roses moved through the doorway blocking whoever was carrying them. 

“Hey, Ciaran, these arrived for you.” Annie, one of the interns, announced from behind the display.

Taking them from her hands and setting the arrangement on my desk, I plucked a small white envelope from the center while I warily eyed the blooms.

“Someone must really like you,” Annie said, envy clearly written on her face.

“Thanks, Annie, for dropping them off.”

“No problem. I was standing at the front desk when the delivery guy showed up. Anyways, I guess I should get back to work. Enjoy your flowers.”

As she headed away from my cubicle, I ripped open the tiny envelope with my finger nail and removed the insert.

“Have dinner with me,” it read. A significant looking capital letter K sat prominently on the bottom.

Tiny bubbles of glee squished around my stomach.

I hadn’t heard from Kean since he had left me at the front of my apartment building with my exposed heart tussling with his parting words. I had been hoping he would call but I definitely appreciated the flowers.

Picking up my cell I dialed the number on the bottom of the card.

It rang twice before Kean’s smoky voice answered. “This is Kean.”

Another round of bubbles floated up underneath my breastbone.

“Hey, Kean. It’s Ciaran. Ciaran Thompson.”

Slapping a hand to my forehead, I mentally kicked myself for sounding stupid. I’m sure the man knew who I was considering he had just sent flowers and that both his mouth and dick had been in intimate places on my body.

He laughed lightly. “I take it the roses arrived?”

“Yes, thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“Does this mean you’ve agreed to dinner?”

In the background I could hear Gloria calling his name.

“Why?” I asked.

“Gloria, give me a minute,” Kean said away from the phone before speaking back into it. “What do you mean, why?”

I blamed the piece of my soul that was risking it all to protect him for needing to hear the reasoning behind his request. “Why do you want to take me to dinner?”

When all I got was silence from his end I began to dread his answer.

Just as I was about to give him a reprieve, he said, “Because I’m trying.”

But it was a second too late.

My giddiness was smashed by his time delay and my mind sent up a defensive reflex. “You want to fuck me again, don’t you?”

Snapping my eyes closed for the umpteenth time today, I questioned my sanity.

“I also plan on fucking you again, Ms. Thompson.”

“When?” I breathlessly asked. I was referring to the fucking not the dinner.

“Be ready by eight,” he replied before the phone went silent. I lowered the phone and looked at the roses when I started to second guess myself.

I opened the texting app and typed out a message.

Me: Be ready by eight for dinner?

Kean: Yes. What did you think I meant?

Me: Dinner. I knew you meant dinner.

Kean: You were thinking I wanted you ready by eight to be fucked?

Embarrassed, I bit the inside of my cheek.

My phone lit up again.

Kean: Stop overthinking it, Ciaran. Nothing can deter me from fucking you again. You should always be ready.

Smiling, I dropped my cell onto the desk and buried my nose in the roses.