Anagram

by Sienna Grant

My frustration amps up a notch. Why is everything about her?

  “That’s what she said,” I huff. “Look, I’m sure you could reach her on her cell, and I’m sure she’ll tell you if she wants you to know.”

  “Alright, I’ll let you get back to work. If she does come back, tell her I stopped by.”

  “Sure will,” I say, and turn back to my screen as he walks out. He has a confident walk, and any woman would be lucky to have him. But again, it has to be her.

  God, I hate her!

  I scroll through the main list of accounts until I find the one, I’m looking for, I’d forgotten Reagan had given me access to the most important accounts the other week when she said I needed more responsibility.

  I like that she trusted me. I need this. It was the only way I could drive my point home.

  Hovering the cursor over the prompt I’ve been looking for, I take less than a second to think about what I’m doing and clicking on the drop down bar I do what I need to do; I change the order of the pills.

  Thirty-Seven

  Reagan

  Ruby hands me a cup of coffee and sits down across from me. “Come on, what’s wrong. Spill it.”

  I squeeze the cup between my hands and look at my best friend. “I think I’ve made a big mistake.”

  “With what?”

  “Margie.”

  “Your assistant? How?”

  “She’s changed her whole look. And it’s making me feel a little crazy.”

  “The suspense is killing me, Reagan.”

  “She’s changed the way she dresses for work. She’s started wearing makeup. She keeps trying to hit on with Everett, and she’s very friendly with Terry Hicks, my boss.” I sigh and shake my head. Hearing it out loud really does make me sound crazy. “Now, she’s dyed her hair.”

  From the corner of my eye I see Cruella de Vil pop her head around the corner. “Ruby, your next appointment has just arrived.” She directs her evil eyes at me again and disappears from sight.

  “Shit! I’ll be back in a second.”

  Lifting the cup to my lips, I think maybe the caffeine will calm me a little, but my leg starts to shake. I put the cup down and waited patiently.

  Ruby comes back and sits down. “Sorry, go on, but I’ve only got five minutes, max. What color has she dyed it?’

  “Fucking blonde,” I screech as quietly as I can. “Why blonde? And she keeps saying she wished she was more like me. I’m starting to think it’s all a little strange.”

  Ruby chuckles. “Maybe she wants in your panties.”

  “That’s not even funny, Rue.”

  “I’m sorry, babe.” She tries to hide her grin behind her cup, but it doesn’t work, so she drinks her coffee instead. Getting up from the stool she was perched on, she puts her cup in the sink. “Honestly, Reagan, I think there is something, I’m just not sure what. But she did give me a vibe. Maybe see what happens for a while longer, and if nothing changes, confront her. You’re the boss—remember that.” she says, and I get up and put my cup in the sink too.

  “Look, I have to get to this appointment. If I don’t, she’ll complain like hell. Give me a call later if you need me.”

  We hug and I thank her for listening to me rant. My headache is a little better, but the mess swimming around in it is just as foggy. But I’ll figure shit out, I always do.

  I leave Ruby to her work and walk through the salon, waving to Cruella with a huge grin as I pass her. I may be a big chief exec, but I can always be a bigger bitch than anyone around.

  I feel the daggers burning into the back of my head as I pull open the door and make my way to my car.

  By the time I get home, my headache is finally beginning to clear. Rather than work from home like I’d originally planned, I decide to give myself a break and de-stress. Going into the bathroom, I run myself a hot bubble bath. This tub had sold me on the house. With the swirled feet, it was freestanding and sat perfectly on a platform. As the hot water mixes with the strawberry bubble bath, I already start to feel the stress lifting. I grab one of the fluffiest towels I can find and stripped out of my clothes.

  Just as I’m about to sink a toe into the bubbles, my cell rings. Typical. I think about ignoring it, I put both feet back on the ground and grab my phone from the counter. Sighing, I swipe across the screen and lift it to my ear. “Mr. Hicks, hi. How are you?”

  “Where are you, Reagan?”

  “I’m at home. I had a killer migraine and couldn’t concentrate.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Margie where you were going?”

  My eyebrows drew together in a frown. “I did. She told me she’d handle what needed to be done in my absence.”

  “That’s not what she told me, Reagan.” He sighs tiredly.

  “I was beginning to get flashes in my eyes and my head was pounding. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Well, if it happens again, please make it clear to her why you’re leaving and make sure I know too. How are you feeling now?”

  “A little better. I’ll be logged into my computer in a little bit.”

  “Very well. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

  The line goes dead before I can even say goodbye. It’s not the first time he’s just hung up on me.

  So much for de-stressing. I feel even more stressed after talking to him. And I know for a fact I told Margie that I was leaving because I had a migraine.

  My mind was full of doubt now, all kinds of thoughts swirling around in my head.

  I sink one foot into the tub until I get used to the heat of the water before lifting my other leg and putting that foot in too. Slowly, I sink my whole body down until the water and bubbles cover me. I rested my head against the back of the ceramic and close my eyes, wanting to clear my mind for a while. After ten minutes the thoughts were settling, and my body had relaxed in the heat of the water.

  After ten minutes, my phone starts to ring. I sit upright but I don’t rush to move answer it. I probably should though. It could be Margie. She might need me for work. Fuck it, she can leave me a message. I don’t hear my message tone, so I sink back down into the bubbles and close my eyes again.

  Thirty-Eight

  Everett

  Ever since Reagan’s assistant told me she was out of the office because she was meeting someone, my mind has been everywhere.

  Why would Reagan leave a few hours into the day?

  Who would she be meeting? If it was business, a client, wouldn’t Margie have just told me?

  What’s with all the fucking secrecy?

  I spin on my office chair, chewing on the end of my pen. All I can think about is Reagan. Ever since we said we’d go a step further it’s like my brain can’t switch off where she’s concerned.

  Taking the pen from my lips, I tap it on the desk. I grab my cell and dial Reagan’s direct number to see if she’s back. Maybe she was only out for an hour. That’s what I told myself.

  My call goes unanswered and I slam my cell down a bit harder than I should have, but I don’t fucking care. I push myself out of my chair and go to the coffee machine. I set it to the strongest option available, place my cup beneath the spout, and press start. I watch the shot of coffee stream into the cup and then change to water. Anything to take my mind from Reagan. When it’s finished, I remove my cup and stir mindlessly.

  Sitting back down in my chair, I turn to the window and sip my coffee.

  What if she’s meeting a guy? What if there’s someone else?

  I can’t stand all these negative thoughts. I’m not a negative person. I’m confident; you have to be in this business. In fact, no one is better than me. I built my business to be the best.

  I pick up my cell and call Reagan’s cell number. After a couple of minutes, it goes to voicemail. Feeling frustrated, I slam the phone down again.

  I stand and go to the large window. My arms folded across my chest, I paced up and down a couple of times, looking out over the skyline
. I still can’t shake this feeling. I grab my cell and call Reagan again. After a few rings, it goes to her voicemail yet again. I think about calling Margie again, but decide against it. I down my coffee, grab my jacket from the back of the chair, and leave my office.

  “Joy, I’m out for the rest of the day, something’s come up.” I give her a small, tight-lipped smile as I walk past her and leave the building.

  Once in the lot, I jumped into my Mustang and gun it out of there, making it to Reagan’s apartment in less than ten minutes.

  With a nod at the concierge in the lobby, I walk to the elevators and stab at the button, trying my hardest to be calm down and be patient, but it’s not working. I have to find out what’s going on.

  The doors open and I stepped inside, pressing the button for Reagan’s floor. The doors part and I’m out before they’re fully open. I make my way down the hall to Reagan’s apartment. Making a fist, I bang on the door and wait.

  Thirty-nine

  Reagan

  I slide beneath the water and wet my hair before squirting a blob of shampoo in my palm and massaging it through my hair into a lather. I rinse and condition before washing my body and making sure everything was shaved that needed to be.

  Drawing my knees up, my feet flat against the bottom of the tub, I placed my hands on either side of me and lift myself out of the water. Just as I’d thrown a leg over the side, there was a banging on my front door, making me jump. I quickly wrap a towel around me and another around my hair. Another bang on the door has me walking as quickly as my wet feet will allow me before I ended up ass over-head.

  Pushing up to my tiptoes, I look through the peephole to see Everett standing there. With a hand braced against my chest so my towel didn’t fall, I unlock the door and tug it open. “Ev, how did you know I was home?”

  “I didn’t. Call it a hopeful guess.” He barges past me into the apartment and heads for the kitchen.

  “Is there a problem?” I follow him, arms folded across my chest.

  “Where were you today and who did you go see?” Everett slides his hands into his pockets and stares at me.

  My eyebrows shot up at his query. “Excuse me? I don’t think I need to answer that.” I turn and march into the bedroom. I open the door of my closet and pull out some yoga pants and a tank. I know he’s right behind me, so I drop my towel and stand there naked. He doesn’t move. I put on my clothes, foregoing underwear entirely, and turn to face him, setting my hands on my hips.

  “I went to the office this morning, you weren’t there.”

  “Everett, you are not my keeper, you are not my boss. But for the record, I had a horrible headache and I needed to get out of the office. Is that good enough, or does it have to be something more sinister, more intense?”

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “What doesn’t?” I’ve had more than enough of people’s crap today. I charge past him and into the kitchen, grabbing two cups and turning on the coffee machine.

  “I was told you were meeting someone, only you never said who.”

  I frown and bite back my anger. There’s someone much more deserving of my anger right now. “And who might have told you that? Margie, by any chance?”

  “Yeah.”

  Pressing start on the machine, I turn to Everett, who’s sitting down on a stool at the breakfast bar. “I had a migraine, so I made the decision to come home. I told Margie I had a headache, but Terry called, questioning me too. Honestly, Ev, I’m sick of everyone’s fucking questions.” I pour coffee into the cups and hand one to Everett. “I can understand him questioning me, he’s my boss and I left work early, but have I ever lied to you?”

  We stare at each other intently for a beat too long. My chest rises and falls with every ragged breath I take.

  Everett hangs his head and I hope it’s in shame for doubting me. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, you should be.” Lifting my cup to my lips, I take a small sip before putting it down and going back to the bedroom to brush my hair. I drag the brush through the knots and pluck a hair tie from the dressing table before gathering my hair into a messy bun.

  Ev steps in front of me when I come back to the kitchen and places his hands on my hips. “Have I ever told you that you’re fucking sexy when you’re angry?” His hands run up and down my sides as he tugs me closer.

  “No, but don’t let me stop you.” The corners of my lips tug into a smirk.

  “You are sexy as fuck when you’re angry,” he says, then presses his lips to mine. Whenever Everett is in my space, I just can’t resist him. His tongue plunges into my mouth and he kisses me harder.

  I press closer to him until my braless breasts are rubbing against his chest, the friction against my nipples turning me on even more. I slide my hands up his broad chest and push his jacket over his shoulders.

  Everett shrugs out of it, freeing his arms from the sleeves, and I start unbuttoning his shirt. Once I have it open, I run my hands over his tanned and toned body. He pulls back, only to bend and place his hands beneath my ass, lifting me up and ordering me to wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me into the bedroom, kissing me along the way, his tongue plunging in and out of my mouth.

  “Oh god, Ev,” I gasp breathlessly.

  “You can call me God if you like,” he says with a wink. I narrow my eyes at him as he drops me on the bed. He tugs at the waistband of my yoga pants and pulls them down my legs. “You won’t be needing these.” He tosses them to the floor, gripping my legs behind my knees and pulled me to the edge of the bed. He strips his shirt from his body and throws that too. He unfastens the button of his pants and slowly drags the zipper down. My eyes are fixed on the sculpted V of his groin.

  Dropping down onto his knees, he parts my legs licks me from back to front, teasing my clit with his tongue until his lips latch around it and he sucks hard. Shockwaves tear through my body. He switches between teasing with his teeth and sucking as he inserts a finger inside me, thrusting in and out. He draws me closer with his other hand, fingers digging into my ass cheek, and feasts on me, his tongue thrusting in and out of my opening. The sensations begin in the pit of my abdomen and soon spread to the tops of my thighs.

  “Oh fuck, Ev, I’m going to come.”

  He sucks harder and licks at me more, and I’m gone. I scream in pleasure as he laps up my climax. He holds my legs steady through the aftershocks before standing to his full height and hovering over me, his hands caging me in on the bed. “I need to fuck you, baby.”

  He can do whatever the fuck he wants right now.

  Flipping me over, he pulls me to my knees, and I lean on my elbows and forearms. I drop my head to the mattress and scream when I feel the sting on my ass. He does it again, making me groan in ecstasy as my clit pulses with need. His palm smooths over my ass before spanking me a third time. I almost come again just from that. His fingers plunge inside me, my walls clamping down.

  “You’re fucking soaked. I like you like this. At my mercy so I can do whatever I want with you. You like that, don’t you, Rae?”

  I couldn’t think. I was beginning to soar again.

  “Answer me, Rae…”

  “Yes,” I breathed. “Yes, I do.”

  “That’s my girl.” Gripping my hips, he impales me on his cock. I don’t have time to get used to him before he’s moving back and forth, slowly at first, but then harder and faster. I fist the bedding until my knuckles turn white. I cry out with every thrust as he drives into me, so hard I’m moving up the bed. I’m quickly heading into euphoria, black spots appearing in my vision. I push back onto him and he groans. Soon, the black spots turn into stars, and just like fireworks, an explosion happened behind my eyes. I scream out my orgasm as Everett grunts and groans through his.

  “Fuck, Reagan,” he gasps before collapsing against me. We lay there for god knows how long, attempting to come down from one of the best highs I’ve probably ever encountered.

 
Forty

  Reagan

  Pulling out my chair, I sit down at my desk and place my Starbucks in front of me. Margie still hasn’t arrived and it’s already seven thirty. I turn on my computer and wait for it to load. I sip my coffee and check my watch again. From the first day she started here, not once had Margie been late. What the hell is going on with her?

  I give her the benefit of the doubt and check my emails.

  When I went home sick yesterday, I did no work whatsoever. I needed a break and I had to give my eyes a rest. I used to get migraines as a teenager, but haven’t had one in so long, I’d forgotten how bad they could be. The doctor used to say they were triggered by stress, and I suppose it could be the same now. Terry’s call had me stressed, Margie’s transformation had me stressed…

  Everett and I spent the rest of the day watching movies in bed, practically naked. We had our own little feast of Chinese takeout and shared a bottle of wine. It was nice. We’d eventually fallen asleep about eleven, he had me wrapped up in his arms like I was in a cocoon. That was until I’d woken this morning with his cock stabbing me in the back.

  As my emails loaded, something stuck out. My eyebrows pulled together as I noticed that one of my biggest accounts, my best accounts, had been closed.

  No. That couldn’t be right.

  It was there yesterday. It was active.

  My heart pounded. Sweat beaded on my chest as I read through the email.

  The order of the shipment has been changed. Due to this you are in breach of contract. Lots of lives have been put at risk due to this error. With this grave error that has been made, we will be closing the account.

  What the fuck? I didn’t understand any of this.

  Looking at the time again, I saw it was after eight and Margie still isn’t here. If something big happened yesterday, I should’ve gotten a call. I told her I was available on my cell.

  The only work-based call I had was Terry. He didn’t mention anything about a shipment. They’ve been fine for the whole term of the contract.