by Belle Brooks
“I’ll get the paper out for you.”
He’s so close my lips want nothing more than to connect with his. Abigail, what’s wrong with you? I step back, breathing heavy as my thighs press together. Who are you?
“Must be hot in here.” He smirks, working on the machine.
“Really? I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you’re blushing, Miss McMillian.”
I swallow even harder. “How do you know my name?”
“Magic,” he breathes. “And you’re an eye roller, I see?”
“What?”
“You just rolled your eyes.”
Shaking my head, I look everywhere but at him.
“Uncomfortable, are we?”
Closing my eyes, I just breathe. “No.”
He chuckles. “It’s fixed now. Can I assist you with anything else?”
I shake my head.
“Do you always bite your lower lip like that?”
I’m not biting my lip. Oh yes, I am. I release it from my teeth immediately. “Do you always ask questions?”
“I do.”
Leave the room, Abigail. I don’t.
“Who are you?”
“Marcus.” He smiles kindly at me. “You have very pretty eyes.” His compliment is random.
“Are you an assistant here as well?”
“You could say that.”
“Okay,” I say, each letter of the word drawn out.
“Are you nearly finished here?” He points to the photocopier.
I burst into laughter. When I look back at him, he’s smiling again.
“Something funny?”
“You could say that.” I point to the folder on a table beside the copier. “Yeah, I’ve got to do that. Given my first attempt, I’d say give me at least two hours.”
He chuckles again. “If I help you, maybe it will only be fifteen minutes.”
“Great.” Walking towards the door, I turn back and our eyes make contact. “I’m on level two. I’m guessing you know where my office is, Mr. Magician. Just bring them up when you’re finished.”
He smirks, so I wink and leave him and my pile of work to get acquainted.
Asher is just outside the doorway as I exit. Her arms are crossed and there’s a look of amusement plastered across her face.
She whispers, “What was that about?”
I mouth, “Wow.”
She in turn mouths, “So hot.”
She wasn’t wrong. I think I will enjoy working with Marcus.
Not long after returning to my office, Jasmine enters. She doesn’t knock. Barging in must be her style. I remove the headphones I’m wearing.
“Documents, Abigail?”
“Yes, they are coming any minute. I delegated that task. I’m in the middle of transcribing dictation.”
“You delegated the task?” Her hands fall onto the desk before she leans down.
“Yes.”
“To whom?” Her eyes narrow.
“To someone who apparently loves photocopying. This way I can get two jobs done at once.”
She tries hard not to look pleased by my assertiveness, but fails. “Fine, get them to me as soon as possible.”
“Yes, boss,” I reply, giving her a thumbs-up.
She closes her eyes and shakes her head.
Jasmine is definitely growing on me.
Keys press down quickly. The voice of Mr. Sims plays in my ears, a voice that is aged and oddly deep.
“(New sentence) Anthony James Stewart (comma) hereby agrees to give thirty days (comma) until ownership of this asset becomes that of (change to upper case) MURTELLl PTY LTD (full stop). (New sentence) Property pertaining to Mr. Stewart will stay mute and undisclosed under the privacy laws of Australia…”
I’m interrupted by the sight of two folders falling onto my keyboard from behind me. The headphones I’m wearing are slowly pulled from my head. I sit frozen.
“Task complete, Miss McMillian.” His voice is warm as his words flow softly into my ear.
“It’s just Abigail.”
“Abigail.”
My name coming from his lips sends a shiver coursing down my spine. The chair begins to swivel around. His gaze is unwavering and intense as he leans down, gripping both armrests. He’s so close I can smell the mint on his breath, the smell urging me to taste him.
“Thank you.” I’m utterly thrown by the sight of him before me.
“You’re welcome.”
As quickly as he appeared, he disappears. The sound of the door closing means I finally inhale air. I hadn’t realised I’d stopped breathing.
I think I might like this place.
Amusement
“Abigail, are you hungry?” Asher clears her throat, standing in the open doorway.
“Famished,” I reply, rubbing at eyes that sting from the glare of my computer screen.
“Well, come on, let’s go eat.”
“Am I allowed to? Should I run it by the Nazi down the hall first?”
She giggles as she leans against the doorway. “The Nazi will be fine with you having lunch. It’s one p.m. That’s your break time and mine.”
“Awesome. Hang on…I didn’t bring lunch. What do you have for lunch? Sharing is caring, my new friend.”
She laughs. “I eat at Leyton’s next door. Most of us do.”
“But there’s a staff room?”
“That mainly gets used for coffee.”
“I’ll need to go to the car and get my bag first.”
“You left your bag in the car?” Her hand presses to her forehead.
This concerns her, why?
“Yeah, morning rush.” I shrug. She laughs again.
“Okay, I’ll meet you there. Two shops down. Big yellow sign. You won’t miss it.”
“Sounds good.” Document saved.
As I’m about to leave, there’s a ringing sound coming from the desk. It’s the phone, which hasn’t rung all morning. In fact, I had no idea what it sounded like.
“Hi,” I answer.
“That’s not professional, Abi.”
“Who is this?”
“Samantha, your best friend and ally, in a world you think is filled with enemies.”
“No, doesn’t ring a bell, sorry. I think you have the wrong number. This is a law firm, lady.”
“Stop dicking around. How’s the first day going?”
“Stellar.”
“One word? That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, this was a waste of forty cents.”
“Firstly, you wouldn’t be paying the forty cents, the television network would. Secondly, where did you pull the cost of forty cents from, your arse?”
“You’re very funny.” Sammy laughs, making over exaggerated and quite frankly dorky snorting sounds.
“It’s a gift.”
“Stop changing the subject. Seriously, how are you?” Her tone fills with frustration.
“Okay. I have to be quick because I’m on lunch. Well, that’s what I’ve been told, and, girl, I’m hungry as fuck. I’ll give you a quick rundown. Hold on to your seat.”
“Listening intently, seat is bolted down,” she retorts, making me laugh.
“Good. Office: small. Direct boss: a bitch. Overall boss: have not met. Probably a dick—”
“You can’t say that about Trish’s dad.”
“Well, have you met him?”
“No.”
“So possibly a dick it is then. Now stop interrupting.”
“I only interrupted once,” she argues.
“No, there you go again, interrupting. That’s twice now.”
Sammy giggles. “Carry on.”
“Okay. Front desk operator: awesome. Lift: I use it a lot. We’re acquainted. I think we’re friends. Well, it hasn’t stopped on me today so far. Male assistant on the lower level: hot, funny and does my work for me.”
Her gasp pierces my eardrum. “What, there’s a h
ot guy? Tell me more!”
“Interrupting,” I say in song.
“I hate when you sing words.”
“No, you don’t, you love it.”
“Continue,” Sammy encourages.
“Computer screen: hurts my eyes, and lunch breaks are taken at a place called Leyton’s and not in the fancy staff room provided. Apparently, that is only used for coffee. That sums it up, Ginger. I have to go. Ring me tonight. I’ll come round?”
“Sounds like a plan, Dorothy.”
“Now if you don’t mind, food is about to be my bitch.”
“Go eat. Love you.”
“Ditto.”
***
The yellow sign was obvious. Nobody could miss such a huge and boring display. Asher is sitting at a booth in the corner of a large open space. My first thoughts are that Leyton’s is a sandwich house of sorts. This pleases me. I slide my bag and then myself into the seat opposite my lunch companion.
“I’m here,” I announce grandly.
She giggles. Why she finds me so funny, I have no idea, but she does. “I can see that.”
“What’s good to eat here?”
“Everything on the menu, except for the BLT special. Do not get the BLT special.” She points to the image on the menu.
“Right, no special thing. What are you having?”
Her nose scrunches. “Probably an egg, lettuce, and tomato sandwich.”
“Sounds good. Get that by two.” I hand her a ten-dollar note.
She sits there staring at me with money clasped between two fingers.
“What?”
“Am I your waitress?”
“Umm. Well, I guess you are. Trust me, I’m accident prone. The less amount of standing and navigating I do, the better.”
“What an odd thing to say.”
“I’m pretty odd. Sandwich time, woman. Chop, chop.”
Asher rolls her eyes before waving the money in my face. “I’m keeping the change.”
“You do that, after you buy me a juice.”
“You won’t have enough for a juice and a sandwich.”
“Really?”
“No.” She shakes her head.
“Well, blow me.” I pass her another five-dollar bill. “There you go, princess.”
Asher laughs with an evil tone. “A ten would have covered it, but thanks for the extra.” She winks.
Asher is my type of awesome.
“Lunch is served,” she announces, placing our orders onto the table. We are not even halfway through probably the best egg, lettuce, and tomato sandwich I’ve ever eaten, when her mobile starts playing Justin Bieber’s Baby.
“Really? Bieber?” I snort while trying hard not to piss myself with laughter.
“What?” Her face glows red.
“I’m so sad for you.”
“Shut up.” She swipes her hand at me.
“Quick, you’d better answer it. It could be Justin calling,” I urge before making kissy faces.
Asher scowls. She’s so therapeutic. “Yes. Right now? I’m on my way,” she says into the mobile before placing it into her bag. “Sorry, Abigail, I have to return to the office. I’m needed.”
I give my best sad face.
“Tomorrow we will do lunch again, okay?”
“Definitely.”
“I think I’m going to like having you around, Abigail.” Scooping up the remainder of her sandwich from the table, she places her bag over her shoulder. “See you back in the office. Try not to be late.”
“I’ll try…but I can’t make any promises,” I call after her as she waves.
Enjoying a moment of solitude, I proceed to scope out the interior of this quaint sandwich shop, one that would probably seat about forty people. It seems quite pleasant so far. The sandwich I’m eating is beyond amazing, the juice is ice cold, and the décor is elegantly done. Cream trimmings, dark chocolate walls, and large gold pots with ferns in them add privacy to different areas. I think I’m going to like lunch at Leyton’s. The sound of a ringing bell commands my attention. I hadn’t noticed it on my own entry, but the sheer volume of the noise causes my head to twist in an attempt to get a better look at the door.
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper, sliding down as low as possible in the seat. It’s him. I begin chewing with speed. There’s something about Marcus that makes places on my body tingle. Places that don’t need, nor do I want, tingling. My mind is set on staying clear of him for now. Yes, he’s adorable eye candy. Yes, the tasty melt in your mouth kind. But he’s also bad news for Abigail, The Hexed.
Slumped down like a sack of potatoes and hiding like a criminal on the run, I hope he doesn’t see me. I’m not ashamed of these actions. My encounter with Marcus this morning was more than enough. If I’d known I’d have such a moment today, I would’ve packed a spare pair of underwear as mine ended up soaked through. There is something about this man that tells me to run away and that’s what I intend to do. Suddenly, I hear the sound of a man clearing his throat.
“Are you comfortable eating like that? Or are you looking to see if there’s gum under that table.”
“I’ll take option B, the gum.” I bite my lip, sitting upright. Eyes that call out ‘Never look away’ connect to mine. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” I ask.
“Always good news first.”
“There is no gum under this table.”
He smiles, amused no doubt that he found me slouched under here. “What’s the bad news?”
“This table will be getting gummed.”
His sculptured lips curl in amusement before he forcefully chuckles.
Oh good God! Don’t do that. My thighs squeeze together as tight as a boa constrictor’s death hold. Dad, really? Now? You are doing this to me now? Or is this just part of the hex?
“Want some company?” I notice a wrapped sandwich and can of drink in his hand.
“Umm...well, no, actually. I’m about to go back to the office.”
His eyes light up with curiosity. “I think you do.”
“Really? Can you predict the future, Mr. Magician?”
“Actually, I can. Let me show you.” His head cocks to the side.
“You have my attention.” I fold my hands over each other, placing them on the table as he slides into the bench seat in front of me. Instantly, my heart changes to a more frantic beat, followed by a flock of birds flapping wings in unison, taking flight in the pit of my stomach.
He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he concentrates on the tissue paper covering his lunch. Peeling it away, I see a solid gold ring beside his pinkie finger. I’m immediately disappointed. He’s married. Of course he is.
Blurting out, “How long have you been married?” causes his eyes to lock with mine and his lips to curve upwards. Oh God. Why did I say that? “Sorry, that’s none of my business. I don’t know why I asked.”
He looks down at the ring and then back at me and clears his throat. “Miss McMillian, I’m—”
“Abigail. Just call me Abigail. Or Abi. My friends call me that.” I’m nervous and it’s obvious.
“Abigail, I’m not married. This is my right hand. I think customarily a wedding ring is located on the left ring finger.”
Dumb. How bloody dumb, Abigail. My cheeks begin to warm.
“Is it hot in here, Abigail?” He’s amused by the effect he has on me. I’m sure of it.
“No,” I mumble.
“Good to know.” He smiles, revealing again his perfectly whitened teeth.
Someone help me, I’m drowning here. I try so very hard not to watch Marcus devour his food. I’m unsuccessful. Each bite makes me swoon. I hate swooning women. I hate me right now.
“Are you enjoying the show?” His tone is cocky.
“If you mean watching you hoover your food...then no.”
He chuckles. “Such sass, Miss McMillian.”
“Abi. Just Abi.”
Wiping his hands together, he relaxes back into the chair. “Now I believe I prom
ised to show you my skills?”
My legs cross without consent. The birds are now homed in my belly, flying freely once again, and as I swallow a mouthful of juice, it takes a wrong turn. Coughing and spluttering, my watery eyes cloud my vision.
“Now, now…we drink our liquids, Abigail, we don’t inhale them. Are you okay?”
“Perfectly fine.” My voice strains on the words. We sit silently until my breathing returns to normal and the coughing ceases.
“Welcome back.”
I flip him the bird.
His head shakes in response. “Very charming. How about you give me that hand.”
With no hesitation, I do.
He rolls it over until my palm is upright. Long fingers gently trace along the lines. Goosebumps fill my skin.
“I thought you were a mind reader, not a palm reader.” I’m suddenly breathless.
He grins, his dark eyes searching me—twinkling. “I am.”
My mouth must form an ‘O’ long before noise escapes it.
Strong fingers wrap tightly around my hand. Marcus closes his eyes and peace fills his expression before he sighs.
“Well,” I murmur.
“Turns out I can’t predict the future.” His eyes are wide, gauging my reaction. Contact is lost between us when my hand is gently placed on the table. “Well, this was fun.” He suddenly stands. “I have work to do and so do you. Are you ready?” His hand presents itself, waiting for mine to clasp it.
I’m not. “I’m going to wait a bit.”
He says nothing, then turns and walks away.
There’s something about this man, in that suit, that causes wicked images to appear in my mind, ones I haven’t had to this extent in a long time. Ones that can never become reality.
Why did he hold out his hand like that? I don’t even know him.
No Control
The work day drags on. It feels like I’ve been sitting at this desk for about fifty years. End already. It finally does. As the lift reaches the ground floor, I find Asher waiting for me.
“Well, how was your first day?”
“Long. So very long.”
She giggles. “Well, tomorrow will go quicker, I’m sure. Hey, I was wondering if you would like to have a drink tonight at Rafferty’s? It’s a few blocks from here, but it’s my favourite hangout spot.”
Drinks. With people. I think not. “Umm—” I say, trying to find a way to decline nicely, but she interrupts me.
