I’VE NEVER BEEN less enthusiastic to go to work. Thinking that it’s only Monday, that I have the whole week to go through with my best business mask on seems like too much of a hassle.
I begrudgingly walk out of the packed elevator when it stops at the floor holding my office. Head held high, shoulders pushed back, eyes right in front of me, I walk, barely nodding to the employees. I don’t unclench my jaw to talk. I just step into my office, grab the notes my assistant is handing me and lock myself in.
I’m hiding.
Most of the time, Brock drives me here, and we leave the building together. But today, I have nobody waiting for me at my door, nobody to take my breakfast with, nobody to joke around on the way.
I’m alone, and it makes me realize how I’ve never truly been alone before. Brock has always been a fixture in my life and I took him for granted. I took my best friend for granted, ignored his true feelings and ruined him and our friendship. Because I’m not naïve to think that only a few days will help make amends. The man spent probably two decades in love with me and all of this to hear myself unable to digest his feelings for me, unable to question mines.
I drop my purse on the far corner of my desk, fall on my chair and put my elbows on the desk, head in hands.
What a mess.
I count to ten and straighten up, ready to get back in the game. I read the notes my assistant gave me, check my agenda and make a few phone calls, one of which ended in a yelling match with a man twice my age about some or other ridiculous issues with a campaign.
Once the phone call is over, I glare at it for two solid minutes and then busy myself with the contracts on my desk and other emails needing my answer.
I don’t let myself be drowned by my personal shit, I only let it hang over my head because I don’t have much of a choice. I can’t shake Brock off.
Before noon, my door opens and hits the wall. I startle and gape at my father. It’s been over a month since he last walked into the building. My surprise is fast changed to annoyance.
I wave at the chairs on the opposite side of my desk. My father ignores them and glares harder.
“Mr. Polovsky called me and threatened to not renew his contract with us, Adeline. Care to explain yourself? That man has been a faithful client of ours since your birth!’’
I stand up and walk to the door to close it. I meet my assistant’s questioning gaze and purse my lips. That’s just what I need; my father barreling in to give me a lecture.
I turn around and point at him, ready to explode, ready to give voice to all my anger, my frustrations. “I lead this business as I’ve always done for the last two years, Dad! Polovsky doesn't know how to take a critique.’’
“Do you hear yourself, Adeline?’’ He pinches his nose and takes a deep breath. “A client is ready to leave us now that his contract is coming to an end. It’s not because there are issues in your personal life that—‘’
“I see Mom couldn’t keep her mouth shut,’’ I bite, cutting him mid-sentence. I start pacing the spacious office, not once looking out the window to the drizzle hitting the glass.
“Your mother isn’t to blame. You’re the one not doing your job.’’
I whirl around and lock eyes with my father. There’s no compassion, no understanding. There’s only the businessman there standing in front of me, not the father. I nod and break eye contact. “I suppose I lost my cool, but Povlosky tried to nitpick everything with a sense of ownership that doesn’t sit well with me.’’
“You’re not supposed to lose control. You’ll officially be the sole CEO of the company next year, but a CEO can’t let his feelings get in the way and even less some petty issues with a friend. When you’re at work, you’re at work. Nowhere else. Are we clear?’’
I nod and don’t say another word as he walks out, his stride purposeful.
I’ve been chastised by my father. I’m sure gossips are already going around the building, everybody adding something to the pile of shit.
I grab the first thing on my desk—a stapler—and hurl it across the office. It hits the far wall and falls to the floor next to the couch.
A tentative knock stops me before I grab another object and I try to discipline my loud and erratic breathing. “Come in.’’
“Miss Cox,’’ my assistant addresses me softly, her voice wavering. “The front desk downstairs called me. Mr. Zann is asking to see you. Should I tell him you’re already in a meeting?’’
I laugh humorlessly, feeling more frazzled than ever. And it’s only Monday!
My assistant watches me warily, probably unsure of what to do or think at this point. I wonder if she’d ever seen me smile before, so laughing. Even laughing like a mental basket case.
“Let him up. Apparently, it’s a shitty day so at least if I can cram everybody at once today, the week can only improve.’’
She quickly walks out, probably afraid my sudden craziness is contagious. I smooth down my suit jacket and my skirt and round my desk to sit again. Even though there’s an inferno inside me, there’s no need to let it appear to Zann’s prying eyes. And this time, I can’t let Brock know that I’d probably need a buffer at some point during that impromptu meeting.
I look up when Zann walks into my office, not knocking on the open door. I’m floored how imposing, how good-looking the man is. I can’t deny it or deny the fact that a part of me is a little bit attracted to him, but no more than when you see an attractive model on a billboard. Zann is unattainable, and he’s the opposite of what I like in men, character wise.
“Miss Cox.’’
I don’t make a move to shake his hand or to muster up a fake smile. I stay stone cold and wave at the chairs in front of me. He nods and sits gracefully. He crosses his legs and arms, and his sharp eyes focus on my face.
“I’m not in the mood, so let’s cut it short. Are you here for business or something else?’’ I glance at my computer’s screen when a ping alerts me of an incoming email.
“You’re always the no-nonsense kind of woman, but you’re even more direct today. Does seeing me make you uneasy?’’
“Would that stop you from pursuing me?’’
He chuckles darkly and cocks his head on one side, assessing me again, calculating my next words and his like a chess player. He’s fast building his game, and I’m aware of it, but I’m no match for his calculating self.
“Of course not. You know what they say about the chase.’’
“Yes, that it’s always more fun than the actual thing. Mr. Zann, I don’t know how to make you understand that I’m not interested.’’
He leans closer to the desk, his gaze not once breaking eye contact. “I always get what I want or who I want. It’s always been that way, Miss Cox.’’
“Probably because you don’t have the right people in your corner. You won’t have me so enjoy the fact that I’m the exception.’’
“Don’t fool yourself, Miss Cox.’’ He runs a long finger along the metal of my plaque stating my name. It’s the first item Brock got me when we officially signed our contracts. “You’re just very good at guarding yourself. I only need to find the right angle.’’
“Do you realize how awful you sound? Do you think a woman could let herself be seduced with these words?’’
“Don’t think too highly of this, Miss Cox. It’s only about satisfying a physical need, a physical curiosity. Seducing someone implies a deeper meaning.’’
I chuckle in spite of myself. My anxiousness is fast melting away. That man is too full of himself, and it’s quite laughable how he truly thinks his big bucks can buy and attract anything that moves, even for just a one-night stand. He’s delusional.
“I suggest you consult someone, Mr. Zann. And find somebody else to prey on.’’
He stands up and gives me his tight-lip smile. I must say that I’m quite envious to see that man actually smile. I bet he’d be radiating.
“Are you pushing me away because of your friend, Mr. Lowe?’’
I tense at Brock’s mention. Back ramrod raid, I frown. “I don’t see how Mr. Lowe has anything to do with this.’’
He shrugs nonchalant and tugs on his left sleeve. “I heard things about Mr. Lowe this morning, but I’m sure you already know, which would explain the reason for your mood.’’
My nostrils flare. One, I hate these mind games with this man. Two, I hate that he knows something about Brock I don’t. “Don’t tell me you’re actually listening to the gossips. It’s highly disappointing, Mr. Zann, and it clashes with what you’re letting on of your personality.’’
His eyes glimmer with something like contempt, as if he’s exactly where he planned all along. He glances casually at his watch before he stares me down again. “Mr. Lowe received a fascinating offer to work at an advertising company based in New York. Apparently, he didn’t turn it down.’’
“Wh…What?’’
“From the look on your face, you didn’t know. Should I be worried since your CFO is considering leaving Cox Company?’’
“I…I’m sure that it’s a misunderstanding.’’
“Not according to my acquaintance. He’s the HR director of this company. Maybe we should talk about this and the risks to my company with yours over lunch.’’
I blink and stand up on shaky legs. I can’t believe this. I shake my head. “I already have a meeting for lunch. If you’ll excuse me, I have a few phone calls to make.’’
“Of course, Miss Cox. I’ll stop by another time.’’ He bows his head and walks away, his swagger lithe and imposing. I stare at him, sending daggers at his head, wishing I could incapacitate him with just a look.
I can’t believe that man. Either he’s bluffing, or he’s playing a dangerous game if he’s using his contacts to have them offering a new job to Brock. But there’s one thing nagging at me.
What if he really received a job offer and didn’t turn it down? Does he really move away to go to NYC?
As if the mess wasn’t gigantic enough before this, now Zann is interfering just to have a more accessible path to between my legs. Men like him, thinking that the whole world is theirs, are dangerous.
I turn around and find my assistant is in a trance watching Zann push the button of the elevator.
I snap my fingers near her ear and make her jump on her swiveling chair. Her knuckles turn white as she tightens her grip on the edge of her small desk.
“What can I do for you, Miss Cox?’’
“Call Mr. Lowe’s assistant and ask him if he’s in his office.’’
“Is that all?’’ she asks as she grabs the phone and presses a button.
“Yes. I just need to know if he’s in his office.’’
She nods and frowns a little bit. “Hey, is Mr. Lowe in his office?’’ She toys with a red pen. “Okay, thanks. No, no need to tell him I called.’’ She hangs up and looks back at me. “He’s in his office and didn’t leave it all morning.’’
I thank her and walk in the direction of his office, determined to find the bottom story. I can’t just stay there and wait for him to come to me to either talk or give me his demission.
I don’t work that way, and I will never do.
I ignore the big lump in my throat, the fast pace of my heartbeats, the trembles in my muscles and the questions piling up in my head, adding more stress to my plate.
I pass by several people, all watching me intently, sharing surprised and questioning glances. I squash the urge to turn around and yell at them to focus on their own fucking business. It wouldn’t be professional, and I’ve been unprofessional enough all morning to last me a lifetime as it is.
I glare at Brock’s assistant ready to ask me if I want him to call Brock and go straight to his door. I don’t bother knocking. I just turn the knob, push open the door and walk in. The door crashes closed behind me with a deft kick of my high heel.
Brock blinks at me before he focuses on the situation—me alone in his office—and he glowers. He’s not shaved, his eyes have dark rings and are puffy as if he had barely slept over the weekend. His shoulders aren’t straight and proud as usual. They’re hunched over under his dark gray suit. His jet black hair is flatter than usual. But the annoyance in his eyes urges me to ignore the pang in my chest at seeing him again, the tug at my heart at feeling the void between us.
“Did you or did you not receive a work offer this morning?’’ My cold voice rings in the quiet office. I can’t hide my labored breathing or the anger slicing my words.
Brock leans back in his chair, apparently floored. His eyes widen for a second and his mouth relaxes. My stare falls on his bow-shaped lips, and a flash of lust hits me, traitorously. Even when mad, that man has a direct link to my libido.
“How do you know about it?’’
I brace myself against the back of the visitor’s chair, my legs unable to support my full weight. He doesn't deny it.
I never thought a betrayal would feel like this. It’s like someone dug a hole in my chest, carved right through my bones, flesh, and muscles to go directly to my heart and slice it repeatedly, destroying it to nothing but a bloody mess resembling nothing.
“So, it’s true. You got an offer, and you’re considering it.’’ My voice is barely above a whisper, weak and hitching.
His face is pale when he nods, a small nod, but still, a nod, answering the one thing I don’t want, that one thing the embodiment of my worst fear.
New York City.
If he leaves for NYC, we’re over.
We won’t have an opportunity to work things out. We won’t see each other other than the few times he’d be back to see his parents.
And Cox Company. I can’t see myself be the CEO if he’s not the CFO.
“When were you going to tell me?’’
He closes his eyes and takes a deep, painful breath. Everything in him is screaming how tired and strung tight he is. I want to say let’s go and enjoy a good lunch at some restaurant, but I’m not sure if he’d agree at this point. Probably not.
“Once my decision was made.’’
When I feel that my legs won’t buckle under me, I release the back of the chair and cross my arms over my chest, needing the comfort, needing to fold in on myself. I’m a breath away from rocking back and forth.
I bite on my lips, afraid to let out the building whimper, followed by sobs.
He doesn’t deserve to see how broken up I am if he’s going to hide these things from me, if he’s going to put an end to over two decades of friendship without fighting for it, for us. And he says he’s in love with me? What man just up and leaves?
“You’ve always dreamed of working here. Once you discovered how good you are in finances, you told me you wanted to be the CFO of Cox Company. We were barely sixteen back then, Brock. How come you can be sneaky about considering leaving for a competitor? And I had to hear it from none other than Zann.’’
Brock’s body visibly tenses. He clenches his hands into tight fists and stands up. He turns around and watches out of his huge windows, giving me his back.
He’s hiding, hiding his true emotions, what he’s craving to say, or yell.
He opens his hands and brings them against the windows, palms flat against the glass. There, with his strong arms spread apart, his broad back and the way his muscled shoulders move under his heavy breathing, I’m mesmerized to the point of letting my anger and fears go. That man confuses me so much.
“Do you realize he’s done this to have a free path to you?’’
“I’m not naïve, Brock. I know what Zann’s game is, but that doesn’t mean that this job offer doesn’t exist and that you’re not considering it.’’
He puts his forehead against the glass of the window, his head hanging between his shoulders. I tighten my arms around myself when he doesn’t answer immediately. The pregnant pause means so much more than just nothing. He’s not letting himself go around me anymore. He’s running his words in his head before speaking, thinking before opening his mouth. He’s withdrawn, something that isn’t like him at all.
“Think about it. If I agreed to go, things would be easier for the both of us.’’
I grit my teeth and will myself not to cry. Another nausea takes hold of me, making me dizzy, afraid to show how this situation is eating at me.
“If you’re doing this, at least don’t be a coward and look me in the face!’’
He sighs and slowly turns around. His eyes aren’t on me but on his desk. He shakes his head and finally stares at my face. His eyes soften when he really sees me, and I want to crawl to him and snuggle close, telling him how much I don’t want him ever to leave.
Damn it! We went to kindergarten together, to middle school and high school together. We even applied to the same colleges! I’ve never been more than a few weeks without him, and even then, we spoke over the phone.
“I can barely look at you, Addy, so yeah, I’m considering the offer.’’
I nod and my lower lip trembles. I bite it to stop it, but it’s out of my control. Everything is out of my control. My stomach lurches, and I uncross my arms. I bring a hand to my stomach and put a hand on the top of the desk when dizziness hits me.
“Hey, are you all right?’’
“Do I seem all right?’’ I bite back, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths. I will not be sick in this office. I will not be sick in front of Brock. I will not lose control.
“What is it? Do you want to throw up?’’ His voice comes from closer to me this time, and I shiver involuntarily.
He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I shy away. I don’t want his compassion or his worry if it’s just because he’s kind-hearted. I don’t care about that if he’s distancing himself from me.
“Leave it.’’ I straighten up and nod to myself when the room around me doesn’t tilt and my stomach settles.
I go to turn around when his hand stops me on my elbow. His fingers and palm send a hot wave through me from above my cream suit jacket.
“Are you pregnant?’’
I step back and free my arm from his grip. “No, I’m not.’’
He narrows his eyes on me. I know what he’s doing; he’s trying to seek answers in my eyes, but he’s not going to find anything there.
“Addy…’’
“I’m not pregnant, Brock. It’s not because we had sex without protection once that it means I’m pregnant. I’m a nervous wreck, and I can barely eat anything. Don’t look any further.’’
“What if you’re pregnant? It’s possible. You can’t exactly control if you are or not.’’
I point at his chest. “I am not pregnant, you idiot. And don’t worry, I won’t hinder you with a baby and mess up your grand plans.’’
“Shut up and listen to me. If you’re pregnant with my kid, I will never think it’s a hindrance. I slept with you knowingly so don’t play that card on me. Now, let’s go out of here.’’
“What? Where? I’m not going anywhere. I have work to do, and I need to start looking for another CFO.’’
Brock growls and grabs his wallet next to the keyboard of his computer. “We’re going to buy a pregnancy test, and you’re going to take it at my place. No discussion, no question. I’m not going to spend days wondering if you’re pregnant or not. And if I remember correctly, you told me that you were supposed to have your period last week.’’
Tingles run up my arms, and a chill freezes me to my bones.
It’s true. I’m one week late. It’s not much, and it already happened to me when stressed, but back then I never had sex without protection.
What if I’m pregnant? What if it convinces Brock to stay? It wouldn’t be for the right reasons. And I can’t have a baby with him, not now that everything is so messed up.
At that moment, I remember how it feels like to be a teenager. I’m as emotional and overwhelmed as a teenager and it’s adding to my feeling of unsettlement. It’s quite pathetic when you’re a grown woman about to be officially made sole CEO of a company that employs close to two hundreds of people.
“I can’t be pregnant,’’ I mumble and lock eyes with him without hiding my fear and sadness. It’s useless. From the very start, I’m the one who created all this mess.
“Let’s find out. Then I’ll make my decision about this job offer.’’
It’s like a cold shower.
Immediately, I harden and take control back. I nod stiffly and follow him out.