“I don’t understand, and I really need this job, sir.”
There was a plea to her voice that rankled. I sat on the edge of her desk, not missing the look of despair as I didn’t scurry away at her words. “Why do you need this job?”
She frowned. “Who doesn’t have bills or need to eat?”
I shook my head. “No. Most people work for that. You’re working for something else.”
Her mouth tightened. “Have you seen my file? Is that it? You think I’m game?”
“What?” I blinked in surprise and inadvertently noticed that the strands of gold in her hair were as bright as hay.
“My resume. You’ve seen it?”
“No, I haven’t actually.” I wasn’t sure why she was being so aggressive, but from her tone, sensed that it came from a place of desperation.
Desperation…
My brain processed that and didn’t like it.
“Would you like coffee?” I repeated, unsure why she’d mentioned her resume, and her head jerked forward, her chin jutting out.
“No. Thank you.”
I got to my feet. “Fine.” And like that, I strode off, making a mental note to read her resume and to see what the hell had gotten her all fired up.
Chapter 2
Jessica
That was weird.
Hell, that was more than weird.
As I watch Max Greene, the stock exchange’s latest whiz kid software developer stride off out of his office, I have to admit that, yes, he’s gorgeous as hell. But he’s also strange.
What was that even about?
What gazillionaire tycoon offered to grab a coffee for the new temp in their office?
I’d been here three days and the guy hadn’t even seemed to see me. Now he was offering me coffee?
As a temp, I was used to being ignored. A part of me, the new part who’d had her life turned on its head, appreciated how invisible I was now. In a way, it made me feel invincible. But Max Greene had gone from totally ignoring me to wanting to get me a hot beverage…
Okay, maybe I was being suspicious and mean. My therapist, the one I could barely afford, had warned me about that in my last session with her.
Before I could get flustered, the door to Max’s office and my direct supervisor, a guy called Derek, stepped out.
“Ignore Max,” he advised me. “He’s a little unusual when we approach the end of a project.”
I nodded, not saying anything. I knew Derek was soft-soaping the situation, trying to pretty up whatever Max had said to me.
The notion made me wonder if Max had a habit of putting his foot in things. But he couldn’t do. He was so suave and elegant. And weird.
Very weird.
I’ve never, not in the three years I’ve temped, been asked if I wanted a coffee by my boss. I’ve been asked to go out for the stuff, but never if I wanted it myself.
As I thought about that, and pondered my therapist’s comments, I wondered if it was strange or if I was making it so. The man had asked me if I wanted some coffee, not if I wanted to start stripping in the middle of Times Square on New Year’s!
Telling myself to lighten up, I pasted on a smile and returned to my work. Having arrived three days ago, and this being the first time Max seemed to have actually noticed me, I figured I was just being sensitive.
At first, I’d thought he’d ignored me because I was beneath his notice. Some bosses are like that.
I’m a temp, so I wouldn’t ordinarily make it past a certain level in organizations such as this one. But on my resume, I have corporations similar to Avalon listed, and get hired to fill in roles from time to time that do put me in close contact with upper management.
Case in point this admin position.
The lady I’m temping for is pregnant, but she’s only a worker grunt just on a high floor. That’s my specialty.
I’m used to signing Non-Disclosure Agreements, it’s part of the process for me now, although I’ll admit, I had to sign a few more than usual when I started working here.
My contract was for eight months, with a possible view to extend for twelve depending on how long the assistant required for maternity leave.
The fact that maternity leave was granted in this company actually impressed me. That wasn’t always the case, especially in businesses such as this one that were fast-paced and, I’ll admit, with an all-male management team. That they were generous enough to not screw expectant mothers over at all impressed me, but to agree to potential extensions?
Unheard of.
I wanted to ask if the extension on the maternity leave was something the woman I was replacing could ask for, or if it was something that was there as a safety net if there was something wrong with the baby. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure what that extension was about.
Still, only my curiosity was piqued. I was just grateful for the long term position at a company that would look great on my resume.
This would be the longest job I’d taken in pretty much ever. A month here, two months there. But usually I just filled in here and there for a few days, a week or two. Eight months was astonishing.
A part of me wondered why they hadn’t just hired in house, but I didn’t really care. I had bills to pay the same as anyone, and Avalon? The pay was astronomically good. So damn good, the therapist I could barely afford but considered vital to my mental health, I’d be able to see her every month instead of every two and without eating ramen for a week to pay for it. I sure as hell wasn’t about to start questioning my damn luck just when I’d gotten some of it for myself.
Now, Jessica, don’t start on about that.
I could almost hear my mother’s singsong voice as she told me to basically forget what happened to me, to move on like nothing had happened at all.
I loved my mother. I did. We were more friends than parent-child. But recently, ever since the incident, a part of me was coming to hate her.
How she could…?
My throat closed as I contemplated exactly what it was that she wanted me to get over.
I could see him on top of me, like it was yesterday. Could feel him grunting and sweating. Felt the fear and the terror like I was there once more; like no time had passed.
My breath sailed in and out of my lungs in short pants, and I knew I was close to a panic attack.
My mother wanted me to move on with my life. I could understand that. I truly could. But the way she was dealing with me in the aftermath was something I couldn’t handle.
I’d been raped. It wasn’t like I’d had an incident at work, an argument or an altercation with someone. My boss had raped me, and that boss had had enough lawyers to get himself off the charge, and to make it look like I’d asked for it.
Yeah.
My indignation often warred with my terror.
For my mom, she was sympathetic at first, but now, two years on, I could tell she just wanted me to get over it.
It was hard being around her sometimes when I knew she felt that way. Like I was boring her. Or, like she was bored with my being a drama queen or something. Yet every day was a struggle.
Some days, just sitting in an office with these two guys, for example, was hard.
Especially as these men were just as powerful, just as affluent as Martin Nida. They could pin me anywhere in this swanky office, do what they wanted, and claim I wanted it, declare to one and all that I’d asked for it. They’d have enough lawyers to make it stick, to slam my name in the dirt again.
Two years ago, I’d been temping to save up some money for the Bar exam. I’d been working three jobs, trying to get the money together so I could finally practice as a lawyer. Now, all these years later, I was still temping because I couldn’t dig myself out of the hole Nida had buried me in. Nobody would hire me now, not with that stain on my reputation.
Who’d trust a lawyer with a sexual harassment claim against her?
That was the only ‘good’ thing about the NDA. Only those who knew Nida would know of what
happened, the rest of the world didn’t. Still, in the world of business, that circle was small and I knew that, where it counted, people would know and would distrust me for it.
My throat closed at the injustice and I shuddered at the thought, at the memories, and I tried to focus on my work but the flashback hit me square between the eyes.
They weren’t always triggered, something for which I was infinitely grateful, but when they hit, I felt like I’d been doing a jig with a two by four that hit at will and was uncaring of my bones.
I saw Nida above me. Grunting and sweating like some kind of pig as he thrust inside me, tearing me to shreds and uncaring of the pain he inflicted. If anything, he’d gotten off on that pain, had enjoyed seeing it.
Some days, the pain of the act was overshadowed by what he’d done after.
He’d taken pleasure in destroying me afterwards too.
Pleasure… like it was some kind of game to him.
“Ms. Barr?”
I could hear the voice, hear the concern, but for a second, I was lost.
As was always the way when I fell down the rabbit hole, I could feel Nida’s hands on me. His sweaty palms tugging at my clothes, his onion-scented breath as it washed over my face. His rough grasp and digging fingers, the sharp pain as he pushed inside me. Worse, I could hear his voice in my ear, telling me I’d wanted it, that I was a pricktease, and that prickteases always wanted to be treated this way.
“Ms. Barr!” The voice was sharper now, harder.
I blinked, realized I was still in Max Greene’s office, but this time, Derek’s attention wasn’t on his computer. It was on me.
As was the boss himself.
It was he who’d called my name.
I blinked up at the man, who had a tray in his hand with three coffees in them from Starbucks. He was frowning down at me, but not in anger. Or impatience. Not in a way that made me feel like I was wasting his time, but in genuine concern.
“Are you all right?”
I swallowed, then in a voice that was high-pitched enough to hurt my own ears, whispered, “I’m perfectly fine.”
“You don’t look it,” he said drily, placing the tray on my desk. “I got you a latte.” He peered at the cups that were scrawled with the indecipherable language that was barista. “Women like lattes, don’t they?”
I blinked at him again. His tone was so strange, almost like he was talking about Romulans or Klingons, another species rather than just women.
Despite myself and the panic that was still clogging my chest, I whispered, “I like lattes. Thank you. You didn’t have to, sir.” The coffee was totally unexpected, especially after the way I’d made a fuss, but I wanted it badly. I needed it to replace the nasty taste in my mouth that always came with a flashback.
I needed food too. Anything to settle the emptiness inside me, but it was a few hours until lunchtime and I don’t think Derek would have appreciated me grazing on rice cakes as I worked.
“Nonsense,” Max said cheerfully, interrupting my thoughts, but that cheerful note was feigned, I knew. “Drink some. You need the sugar.”
Derek cleared his throat. “It will be hot, Max.”
Max turned his head to look at his PA. “No, it should be cool enough to drink.”
“Because they always make coffees-to-go tepid,” Derek grumbled.
Hearing his sarcasm, I had to bite back a smile and just that felt like the sun peering through gray clouds on a stormy day. I didn’t smile after a flashback. Didn’t even want to twitch my damn lips as my body and mind processed the injustice of what had happened to me.
An injustice those closest to me insisted I get over.
Get over.
Yeah.
Like a twisted ankle or a busted nose.
I’d been raped, for fuck’s sake. Someone had taken over my will, had forced themselves on me. It wasn’t like someone had cut in front of me at Walmart. They’d…
My throat choked at what he’d done to me, and I made a concerted effort to clear it before I pressed the coffee cup to my lips, then winced as the latte, as Derek had stated, was pretty damn hot. Still, it did make me feel better. It was syrupy sweet, not usually what I’d drink, but the sugar did something to me. Something I took note of.
After a flashback, it was easy to forget to eat, hell, to forget to drink too. But the sugar settled me in a way that surprised me.
I wished the drink wasn’t so hot so I could gulp it all down.
“Thank you, I do feel better,” I admitted, and saw a kind smile curve my new boss’s lips.
“I’m glad.”
Derek cleared his throat. Again—he seemed to do that a lot. “Max, I have that meeting in five. Are you going to be okay on your own?”
That had him scowling. Not down at me though, thankfully. Boy, that scowl shifted his features. He was handsome, with black hair and blue eyes that reminded me of David Gandy. He was tall and strong in his custom cut suit, but the tailoring couldn’t shield his size—he was huge. I didn’t like huge on a man, not even before Nida, but for some reason, Max Greene didn’t make me want to cower.
Not even a scowling Max Greene.
“I’m not five, Derek. Of course I can manage.”
The PA’s nostrils flared with irritation as he got to his feet. He retrieved a leather satchel from a drawer and began to shove papers into it. “Never said you were five,” he grumbled. “More like three.”
If Max heard, he didn’t seem to find offense at that insult. It surprised me though. It wasn’t often a PA spoke to their boss that way, and I gaped between the two men as Max, seemingly quite content to perch his ass on the corner of my desk, looked at me, while I looked at Derek who watched us both.
The tableau was close to amusing—another shock. I should be in the deep freeze for at least a day. Instead, I was amused.
But, Derek and Max were funny together.
Like an old aunt and uncle who’d been married for eighty years and who knew what the other would say without anyone actually saying a damn word.
Derek grabbed the satchel, a plush leather one that had probably cost my rent twice over, and tucked it under his arm. He strode toward my desk as he grabbed the coffee cup from the carton tray on mine. When he’d taken a sip, there was a warning tone to his voice as he demanded, “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
Max’s grin was blinding. Beatific like a toddler’s. Like he could hear the warning but was happy to ignore it. “I’m sure.”
Derek heaved a sigh that was anything but respectful. To me, he murmured, “Just carry on acquainting yourself with the files, Ms. Barr.”
I nodded, quite at ease with the command. I’d been given a few contracts to proofread—my degree in contract law had never come in handy as a temp before, but there was a first time for anything, and Derek, having seen the qualification, had had gleaming eyes upon learning of my background.
I expected to be proofing a shit ton of contracts these next eight months.
While it wasn’t exactly enthralling, nothing about my life was.
That was how I liked it. That was how I coped.
“You had a flashback.”
The voice was bland, but it was firm. And it was resolute. Like Max Greene was trying to be gentle but he was also trying to make sure that I couldn’t fob him off.
I took another sip of coffee. “I don’t think—”
“I do think. I’ve seen them before.” He grunted. “I mean, I’ve seen someone go through one before. Of course, everyone reacts differently, but you’re almost textbook.” His tone was musing.
“What do you mean?” I hated that my voice was a squeak.
“I mean that you were breathing like you were running even though you weren’t moving an inch. I mean that you were sweating like you actually were in a marathon. I mean that your eyes were flickering and… Need I go on?”
His sardonic tone had me flushing. “No.”
My whisper had his face softening, th
e hard lines of his handsome features growing tender as he looked at me.
That wasn’t something I was used to seeing. It stunned me.
Made it a little harder to breathe.
“What happened to you?” he asked quietly.
“N-Nothing.”
To add insult to injury, I’d been gagged from even talking about what had happened to me.
Whoever said money didn’t talk had never been raped, then blamed for it, and then had to pay court expenses to her assailant as an ‘apology’.
I almost choked on my latte. Would I ever get over that one night?
How could it have ruined my life? An act that had taken less than two minutes yet had the aftershocks still reverberating through me two years later.
A hand landed on my shoulder. Though I jolted, when I saw it was Max, I relaxed.
Something about him made me feel safe, and I knew that was stupid.
I wasn’t safe.
I’d never be safe again.
But the feeling he engendered in me? I’d never felt the like before and it cocooned me in a way I didn’t understand.
I didn’t know this man. He didn’t know me. He was my superior, and he was big. So big. Scarily big. What on earth about him made me feel safe? If anything, I should be running the other way, not wishing I had the right to clamber onto his lap and have him embrace me in a hug.
But, unlike a lot of bosses, Max didn’t give off a vibe. Even before the ‘incident’, I’d worn the blandest of outfits at work. Sexual harassment had never been new to me, and because I was passingly attractive, that seemed to make things a thousand times worse. I’d been flirted with, touched, coaxed, and hit on more times than I could count.
I could spot a creep a thousand miles off, and Nida had hit that particular radar with flashing red lights.
But Max?
No. He wasn’t like that.
Sure, he’d tried to coax me with the coffee, and I knew it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart, but…
That was just it.
But.
That but was why I didn’t feel myself choking in fear. Instead, I licked my lips as I stared up at him—not even feeling the need to put us on the same level by standing instead of having to tilt my head up to look at him. “Who do you know had flashbacks?” I countered, preferring to ask than answer.
Cherishing Her: A Protector Office Romance Page 2
