Tame

by Colet Abedi

  Since I’m so early, the office is thankfully empty. I have headphones in and am listening to Harry Styles’ album and am so in the zone, I fail to notice Michael walking into the office and coming straight to my desk.

  My heart stops when I look up and find him standing there staring at me.

  He looks good.

  A bit thinner than normal, but he has a healthy glow, like he spent the week in the sun.

  He’s dressed in his usual uniform, jeans and a T-shirt.

  Delicious.

  I wish I didn’t care.

  But I do.

  So do. I take off my headphones and meet his gaze.

  “Hi,” he says softly.

  I think about our last conversation. It didn’t end well. I’d like nothing more than to go at him some more. But no matter what happened between us, he’s still my boss. And I promised myself I would be mature and rational. I could handle what happened between us. I was an adult. A professional.

  “Hi.”

  “Can I see you in my office?” His voice is neutral, detached almost, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

  “Of course,” I reply briskly, as I stand up and grab my binder.

  My heart races erratically as he follows me into his office. His energy is so tightly wound up I can feel him struggle for control.

  He shuts the door as I make my way to stand in front of his desk.

  “Have a seat,” he tells me.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stand,” I reply curtly. I’d like to keep the advantage.

  “I’d prefer you to sit,” Michael commands, ignoring my wishes.

  Of course you do.

  I take a deep breath in to force myself not to argue with him. I sit down and wait. My heart gives a wild kick and it takes everything I have to pretend like I’m completely unaffected by him. I pray he can’t tell what he’s doing to me.

  How hurt I am by his rejection.

  How devastated I’ve been since he’s been gone.

  How sitting across from him now makes me feel like I’m lost and found at the same time.

  “How are you?”

  How am I? Logically, I know it’s the polite way to start a conversation, but the irrational part of me is angry he’s asking.

  How does he think I am?

  “As well as can be expected,” I say, meeting his bright blue gaze. “And you?”

  “Same.”

  Wonderful.

  “I appreciated your daily updates while I was away,” he continues in an emotionless voice. “They were thorough.”

  “I’m glad you liked them.”

  There’s another uncomfortable silence and Michael sighs.

  “Abby,” he begins slowly. “I had a lot of time to think…”

  My heartbeat picks up its pace.

  “And you were right.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever felt so sick as I wait for him to continue.

  “My behavior was inexcusable,” he goes on to my shock. “And unprofessional. I apologize if I hurt you.”

  If anything, his apology makes me feel worse than before. It’s like we’re having a “let’s break up” conversation and we’re not even together.

  “I need you here this month.” Michael’s voice is calm as he goes on. “Especially with Danielle’s wedding coming up—I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how wound up she is over it… but if you want to leave after that, you can. I won’t stop you.”

  I’m surprised by how hurt I am from his words even though he’s giving me exactly what I asked for.

  The pit in my stomach is almost too much to bear.

  “Perfect,” I force myself to say as I wait for him to continue and address the rest—the kiss, the intimacy we shared. I fully expect him to go there.

  But he doesn’t.

  “Great,” Michael says abruptly as he makes his way to his desk.

  I stay seated for a moment.

  “You can go back to your desk,” Michael says excusing me as he clicks his mouse to look at his computer.

  I watch as he runs a rough hand through his hair and it’s at that moment that I finally notice how stressed out he actually looks.

  And tired.

  Even though I’m still angry and hurt by him, I can’t stop myself from caring.

  “Is everything all right?” I ask as I slowly stand up.

  Michael looks up at me and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” he returns, making me feel almost foolish for asking.

  “I don’t know. You seem off, but I guess I’m mistaken. Sorry I asked.”

  I turn abruptly and make my way to the door, angry that I cared enough to go there with him.

  “It’s my brother.” His voice is low.

  I stop, responding to the pain I hear in his voice.

  “William?” I say in understanding as I slowly turn to look at him.

  “Yes,” Michael says with a sad smile. “Sometimes… sometimes his death just hits me hard. For being the youngest, he always seemed to have it all together. More than Clayton and me. We were always so protective of him. We weren’t ready for this. ”

  His ability to express his pain over his brother’s loss makes my heart swell in tenderness. It’s not an easy thing to do, and I know from first-hand experience.

  “Everyone loved him,” I tell him. “He was such a good man.”

  Michael closes his eyes and nods.

  “It shouldn’t have been him,” he finally says, his voice tortured.

  “Unfortunately, we’re not given a choice,” I say softly, understanding the depth of his pain. “It’s the worst part about life.”

  I wish I could walk over and pull him in arms and take away his sadness. I know what loss feels like. I’ve lived with it my whole life.

  “It is,” Michael agrees and fixes me with a sympathetic look. “And you know it well.”

  I feel the familiar lump in my throat whenever someone brings up the fact that I grew up without my father.

  “Can I get you anything?” I ask him quietly just wanting to escape the sympathy I see in his eyes.

  “I’m all right, thank you,” Michael replies politely.

  I nod in acknowledgment then turn to leave.

  “Abby?” Michael calls out.

  I stop when I reach his door.

  “There’s one more thing…”

  “Yes?” I turn around to look at him.

  “I don’t consider anything that’s happened between us a mistake.”

  ***

  “What were his exact words?” Danielle asks in excitement as we sit huddled in her office.

  “I just told you!” I tell her again as I take a bite of the giant slice of chocolate cake I bought for lunch.

  “This is just too good!” she says, shaking her head in happiness.

  “How is this good?” I ask in bewilderment, my mouth so full I’m sure Danielle can barely make out my words. “Why would he even say that to me? What is he trying to do… completely ruin my emotional health?”

  “Probably,” Danielle says as she sets her salad down and gets up.

  She presses a button behind her desk and the blinds slide down her office windows so no one can see inside.

  I watch her curiously.

  “Stand up.” Her voice is commanding as she crosses her arms.

  “Why?” I ask mid-bite.

  “Put that caloric nightmare down and stand up.” Danielle shakes her head in admonishment. “For God’s sake Abby, women usually can’t eat when they’re so wound up emotionally! I’ve never met anyone like you before. It’s like you’re just the opposite.”

  “I know,” I tell her guiltily. “I like to eat my feelings. It’s a real problem.”

  I put the cake down and slowly stand up.

  Danielle gives me the once over and sighs.

  “This will not do at all,” she finally says.

  “What?”

  “First, wipe the chocolate
crumbs from your lips,” she snaps out like a general.

  Embarrassed, I quickly do as she says.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  “Just stand still and let me work my magic for a second. It won’t take much.”

  Danielle smoothes out my knee-length black fitted skirt, like she’s dusting it off for crumbs, then proceeds to unbutton the top three buttons of my white shirt.

  “What are you doing?” Embarrassed, I try to cover up my chest.

  “Showing off some of your incredible assets,” she tells me, swatting my hand away. “It’s about time you make yourself known in this office. You’re single and available.”

  “I don’t want to be known—” I argue.

  “Too bad,” she snaps back at me.

  For the next fifteen minutes, Danielle proceeds to ignore all my protests and gives me an office makeover. She takes my hair out of the tight bun and brushes the mahogany strands out. Then she pulls out her small makeup bag and proceeds to apply eyeliner, mascara, blush, and lip gloss. More makeup than I usually ever wear to the office.

  “You have the most beautiful blue eyes,” Danielle compliments me.

  “Come on,” I argue, rolling my eyes.

  “I’m serious,” Danielle continues. “You don’t know how pretty you are. You’ve been hiding from yourself for so long, immersed in a little bubble that you’ve created… it’s enough. It’s time Abby comes out and joins the rest of the world.”

  Danielle holds a small mirror up so I can study her handiwork.

  I recognize the face that looks back at me.

  But I don’t.

  Danielle didn’t overdo it with the makeup, she just lightly accentuated all my features. Made them more pronounced. My blue eyes, more vivid. My lips, more full. My cheekbones look high and full of color.

  The top of my blouse, now unbuttoned, only shows a hint of cleavage, just enough to give a man something to think about.

  To entice.

  And I like it.

  “Nothing too extreme,” she tells me as she admires her work. “But enough to drive a man wild.”

  She winks when she says the last bit.

  “Now we’re going to have some fun.”

  I was warned.

  But I had no idea what Danielle’s game was until later in the day.

  I leave her office a while later, hungry still because Danielle threw out the rest of my cake, refusing to let me continue my sugar pig-fest. Michael was gone on a long lunch and I was soon too wrapped up in work to really obsess about when he’d be back. Danielle’s plan seemed to work.

  When I made my way around the office on my usual errands, I noticed the appreciative looks from the men. Lyle from IT, stopped me and struck up a conversation, even an intern named David found an excuse to start talking to me. If anything, the attention gives me confidence, a needed boost to my self-esteem and I’m grateful for it.

  It’s late in the day when Michael finally comes back to the office. As usual, he stops to chat in the Think Tank before making his way back to his room. I watch him for a moment as he smiles amicably at the group. He exudes confidence and power, demanding respect just by being in the room.

  And then there’s the other part of him.

  The sensitive side that he revealed when speaking to me about his brother. The side that causes him to defend a little girl being bullied by her stepbrother. The part that makes him more human, just like the rest of us. Another facet to his personality that makes the entire package even more appealing.

  It takes everything I have to look away and try to focus on my work.

  But then I feel that damn pull.

  And I know his focus is now directed at me.

  As if on cue, I glance up from the computer screen and our eyes lock. For a moment he looks surprised, then it quickly changes to something else. I watch as his gaze smolders in desire, sweeping over me in appreciation, causing chills to race up and down my spine.

  My mouth goes dry and I’m longing for him in seconds.

  Before I know it, he’s standing right in front of my desk, his eyes no longer on my face but on my cleavage that Danielle was so anxious to expose. My breasts take on a mind of their own and act as though he’s physically touching me.

  My nipples harden.

  Lord.

  He notices.

  I watch Michael’s jaw flex before his gaze slowly moves up to rest on my parted lips and finally my eyes.

  I hate myself for not being able to hide how I feel about him. To hide what he does to me. To my composure. To my emotions.

  To my body.

  “Abby.” His voice is like sex to my ears. “Any messages?”

  “It’s been quiet,” I tell him, trying to calm my suddenly racing heart.

  Before Michael can respond, Danielle comes to stand next to him.

  “Hi, Michael,” her voice is cheerful as she smiles at the two of us. “How was your lunch meeting with Jim?”

  “Boring.”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised. He’s always been a bit of a pill,” Danielle says with a laugh, then points at me like a proud mother. “So what do you think of Abby’s makeover?”

  I narrow my eyes at Danielle trying to communicate telepathically not to embarrass me.

  “Your handiwork?” Michael lifts a surprised brow at Danielle as she nods on in pleasure.

  “Yes.” She smiles, winking at me.

  Michael turns his gaze back to mine and I try to act like his perusal isn’t turning my insides to mush.

  “We’re meeting Tom and some of his friends tonight at a pub,” Danielle tells him to my horror. “I’m trying to get Abby to come out of her shell. Don’t you think it’s time she gets out there and starts dating? She’s too pretty and sweet to be single.”

  What is she saying?

  “Danielle!” I let out an exasperated sigh.

  “What?” Danielle gives me an innocent look, but I know better. “Michael’s your cousin. We’re allowed to talk like this. And besides, I’m sure he agrees with me.”

  I can barely manage to look at him for his reaction.

  “Don’t you, Michael?” Danielle presses him for a response.

  Michael’s eyes flicker over me, his jaw tight, before settling on Danielle.

  “I’m sure his friends will be enamored,” he finally says in a cold voice, his face expressionless. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  Danielle watches Michael head into his office and shut the door behind him. When he’s safely out of sight, she turns and gives me a devilish smile.

  “That’ll drive him crazy,” she beams.

  “You’re insane!” I whisper to her. “He doesn’t care—”

  “Oh, he does,” Danielle says knowingly as she stares at his office.

  “I think you’re wrong. And when did we make any plans for the evening?”

  “I did for us,” Danielle’s voice is sugary sweet. “And I’m not letting you back out. We are going out for drinks with men tonight. Single men.”

  Danielle walks away from me with that warning and mercifully leaves me alone for the next few hours.

  And it’s a good thing because Michael doesn’t give me a moment to think. He introduces me to a side of him I’ve never seen before—Mount St. Michael—a volatile volcano that feels like it’s on the verge of an explosion at any second. He pulls me into his office and dictates emails to me, then makes me print them out and stand over him, all while he picks apart every section he told me to write.

  “This email is for Miles Charrington—not Mike!” he barks at me, pointing out my small typo.

  “I’ll correct it immediately.” I use all my willpower to refrain from telling him that he hadn’t let me spell-check the email and that I would have noticed it if he hadn’t forced me to print it out so fast.

  But the sour look on his face stops me from pointing that out to him.

  Michael doesn’t give me a second to myself, calling me in his office ev
ery half-hour, demanding to know what I’ve gotten done.

  Gone is the considerate man I’ve grown accustomed to, and in his place is a tyrant of a boss, putting me on edge with every snappy question he throws my way. His behavior makes me wonder if the sensitivity he displayed earlier in the day when talking about William had been a figment of my imagination.

  By the time the office starts closing down, I’m so tightly wound up that I want nothing more than to drink my sorrows away with Danielle and her friends.

  “Going to the pub?”

  I spin around and look at Michael, who’s now standing outside his door staring at me in a way that makes me so nervous I can feel the sweat begin to form on my chest. I wish I could tell what he’s thinking. His biceps flex as he crosses his arms over his chest. My body tightens on its own accord, and I can feel the air crackle with electricity as we stare at one another.

  “I was going to, yes.” I hate myself for sounding nervous. “Unless you need something?”

  He lifts his brow.

  “Do you?” I ask when he remains silent.

  “Are you ready, Abby?” Danielle calls out, interrupting us as she walks over holding onto her purse.

  Michael stares at me for a moment longer before turning to Danielle.

  “Where are you going?”

  “One of your favorite pubs,” Danielle tells him. “The Royal Oak. Manchester United is playing so we were going to watch the game. Would you like to join?”

  My heart slams in my chest as I sneak a peek at him.

  “I’ve got work to do,” he quickly declines, and I can’t tell if I’m relieved or annoyed he’s not coming. “But I’m sure you’ll have fun.”

  “Oh we will,” Danielle says with a promise. “Come on, Abby.”

  ***

  An hour later, I’ve taken three shots of some concoction that Tom, Danielle’s fiancé, had the bartender make for us. Tom is wonderful and handsome, and so in love with Danielle that I’m beyond thrilled for my friend.

  I wonder if she knows how lucky she is.

  To have a man that’s so crazy in love with her that he doesn’t care who can see it. To love so fiercely and be loved in the same way back... it makes me wonder if I’ll ever have the same.