Taming Cupid

by Emily Bishop

  Wait. Lucy’s crying. And it’s about Sasha.

  My stomach drops.

  “In my office. Now.”

  I guide her inside and close the door behind us before I turn to face her. The woman is wringing her hands. What kind of secret is she carrying?

  “What’s happened, Lucy? You can tell me.”

  I’m too riled up to realize I haven’t used her last name. She lifts an eyebrow at me but says nothing about it. I really don’t care. If something’s happened to Sasha…

  “She quit, sir,” Lucy whispers.

  “What?”

  I couldn’t possibly have heard that right. Sasha wouldn’t give up this job just because of some stupid misunderstanding.

  Would she?

  “She quit. She told me to tell you, and that she’d follow up with written confirmation later. I tried. I tried to get her to reconsider, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

  My vision turns crimson. Sasha quit because of Kieran’s dumbass behavior, and I’m the one who let this all happen. My phone dings from my desk, and I pick it up to check the email.

  It’s from Sasha. The subject line is one word: resignation.

  All of this is true.

  “I’ll kill him this time,” I growl.

  I stride past Lucy, who steps out of my path of destruction just in time to avoid getting knocked over. I’m glad she has the good sense to do that, because I’m in no mood to apologize for yet more harm to women in this office.

  Today, that will come to an end.

  I stride toward Kieran’s office. I can’t bring myself to care if the cube-dwellers are watching or not. I don’t care about anything but putting that fucking asshole in his place. He owes me for this, more than anything he’s ever owed me in his life.

  That’s really saying something, for Kieran.

  When I reach his office, I find him at his desk, rubbing his jaw. When he sees me, he glares. “This better be an apology visit. Why doesn’t it look like an apology visit?”

  “Sasha quit, thanks to you,” I spit. I step in and slam the door behind me this time. No need to give everyone more of a show than they’ve already gotten. Kieran doesn’t move as he stares at me.

  “You’re going to use me as your scapegoat for all of this, aren’t you? None of this has anything to do with me, asshole. You’re the one who broke her heart, who toyed with her only to freak out and walk away. If you didn’t want the girl to quit, you shouldn’t have slept with her!”

  I clench my fists by my sides. I can’t kick his ass in this office, can I? A tiny voice in the back of my head reminds me that would be unprofessional.

  Fuck that voice.

  “You’re the one who told me to get on the app. You’re the one who made our relationship look like some kind of ploy to get marketing fodder. None of this would have happened without your stupid meddling! I was doing fine on my own!”

  “Yes, so you’ve implied,” Kieran says. His voice is quiet and filled with a threat. He leans in, his elbows on the table. I can see his bruise blossoming a sickly purple color, and I have only one regret.

  I wish I’d hit him harder.

  “Now here’s my little threat for you, Booker. You say you’ll buy me out of my shares, eliminate my stake in the company, but how about I beat you to it? Maybe I’ll sell them off myself, perhaps to a buyer who has no interest in doing anything with the apps but wants to liquidate the assets and dismantle the company. Would that teach you a lesson in blaming the wrong person?”

  I glare down at him. He doesn’t budge, and for the first time in ages, Kieran is serious about something. He would fuck me over just to prove a point, and why wouldn’t he? He’s never wanted for anything a damn day in his life. To him, this is just another business game, Monopoly money to be won or lost before the real party begins.

  I know the threat is real.

  “Nice,” I say. “Real nice. Some friendship we’ve built for ourselves.”

  “What friendship? All I see is some blowhard poor kid who worked up a little cash and now has a big head. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean shit, Booker. You might want to try and remember that, before I give you a harsher lesson.”

  “Fuck you,” I reply. I turn without looking back and pull his door open.

  I can’t stay here. This place, this empire I’ve built? Kieran has made clear he could dismantle it all with the snap of his fingers. It all grates on my nerves. I grab my work bag out of my office without a word to anyone and then make for the elevator.

  When it doesn’t arrive right away, my insides prepare to explode from impatience, so I plunge into the stairwell and propel myself downstairs. My legs burn with every step after a few floors, and it feels good to move, to get this toxic energy out of my system.

  By the time I reach the lobby, I’m sweating.

  I need to find her. I need to make this right. Then maybe I can puzzle out whatever my relationship with Kieran has become and take appropriate action steps from there.

  Sasha has to come first.

  I pull out my phone and open her email.

  So cold. So impersonal. I must have really pissed her off. I click the reply button and start to craft my response. My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I consider what the hell I’m going to say.

  “Sasha. Please don’t do this. I care about you. I was an idiot.”

  I type the words out and delete them just as fast. What the fuck am I supposed to say to justify my actions? My heart pulses with shame as I think about how I treated her, like some office fling. What on Earth was I thinking, having a quickie in my office like that? Not only did I put her reputation on the line, but our actions could have hurt the company.

  Beyond that, I would never put Sasha’s body over her mind when it comes to work. The things I said… none of that even comes close to how I really feel about her.

  I wonder if I can speak with her as Master. She might be more willing to talk to me through the app. It’s proven to be a safe space for us so many times before. I click out of my email and tap into the app, only to see a message waiting for me there.

  “Angel has deleted her account. Messages from this conversation will be deleted in a few days.”

  I have royally fucked up.

  I wrack my brain for an answer. I can’t just send her an email. That’s not how we’re going to talk this out. I realize then that it’s too soon for her information to have been removed from our system. I tap in Lucy’s number and hit the call button.

  “Mr. Knight. Is everything OK?”

  Lucy’s voice trembles as she asks the question. I’m going to have to do so much clean up here. Now I remember why I’ve been so steadfast in keeping emotions out of my business. They might just lead to my downfall.

  But if my downfall leads to Sasha…

  “No, it’s not OK, but it will be. I need you to get me Sasha’s phone number and address from our company records, please.”

  “You don’t have her phone number?” Lucy asks, incredulous.

  Oh, good. I can feel like an even bigger asshole.

  “No. But I will once you give it to me,” I say between clenched teeth.

  “One second. I can pull it up right here.”

  I wait while the sound of Lucy typing echoes into my ear. After forever, she speaks.

  “OK, I’ve got her information. Are you ready?”

  I hold my phone away from my face and type out everything Lucy tells me. I now have a means to get to Sasha that isn’t just an email.

  This is better. I think I might have a real shot at redeeming myself.

  Probably.

  “Thank you… Miss Shone,” I say. It feels strange after I used her first name, but old habits die hard.

  “You’re welcome. And Mr. Knight?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Make this up to her.”

  I frown, but I nod. “I will. Thanks. Goodbye.”

  It’s time to go get my girl.

  Chapter Twenty-Five
/>
  Sasha

  “Sasha! I thought we’d never hear from you again after you left for the big city!”

  I thought calling my eldest sister would help, but her voice grates on my nerves. What does she mean she thought she’d never hear from me again? It’s not like I disappeared.

  Or that her phone doesn’t work the same way mine does.

  “Sorry. I can call someone else if you’re expecting not to hear from me.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.

  “Whoa, whoa, calm down, little sister. I was just playing with you. What’s got bees in your bonnet?”

  Tears threaten once again, and I hold them back as I try and collect myself for this conversation. For some reason, I can never hold back tears when talking to my family members. My true emotions always find a way to leak out.

  “Ellie. I… I…” I stammer.

  “Whoa, Sasha, what happened? Are you okay? Do you need us to come and get you?”

  For an instant, that sounds like the best thing in the world. What I wouldn’t give to be rescued by my family and brought back to the quiet, peaceful world I grew up in. Safe from the dangers of city life.

  Safe from the heartbreak of Booker Knight.

  “No, it’s just that I… I lost my job.” I choke on a sob at the admission, and my sister sits in silence on the other end of the line as I let out a good cry.

  Not that I haven’t been doing exactly that pretty much from the second I got home. I let myself get it all out over the course of a few minutes, then reach for a tissue and blow my nose.

  “Sorry,” I say. “It’s been a rough day.”

  “Well, of course, it has. No one wants to realize they’ve made a huge mistake, dreaming too big.”

  “What are you talking about?” I demand.

  Ellie sighs, the sound packed with dramatic flair like only Ellie Ellis can have. What were my parents thinking, naming their first born Eleanor? I’ve asked myself this a hundred times. Why, in the midst of all my sorrow, is this what I’m thinking about?

  “Sasha, we all knew you were setting yourself up for failure. Remember when we told you that a thousand times, and you refused to listen?”

  “I’m not going to fail!” I wail into the phone.

  It sounds stupid even to me.

  “What do you call losing your job? How long before you can’t afford that apartment, Sasha? You were always so incapable of taking care of yourself, and then off you went, where none of us could look out for you.”

  “I’ve had a job since I was fourteen. How did I not take care of myself?”

  “You always managed to get into predicaments. Remember that time you got locked out of your car and Steve had to come and pick you up?”

  “I didn’t call you to hash out every mistake I’ve ever made, Ellie.”

  “Then why did you call? You need us to come pick you up? We’ll come get you, Sasha, but I hate to say I told you so.”

  I can’t believe I was considering going home. Thank goodness I didn’t tell her any of the information about how I lost my job. Then I’d really never hear the end of it.

  Is she right? Am I just a hot mess who can’t keep myself out of trouble?

  Everything I’ve accomplished since coming here already proves her wrong. I silence that niggling voice in my head and lean back into my sofa.

  “I don’t need to be picked up. I called you looking for a supportive shoulder to cry on, but I can see all I’m going to get is bullied into running back home with my tail between my legs. That’s not going to happen, Ellie. I’m going to make my way here, whether you think I can or not.”

  “Stop being dramatic. Just admit you’re ready to come home. We can get there in a few hours with a trailer.”

  “I don’t need it. I’ll call you again when I’m a millionaire.”

  “Sasha, come on. Don’t be like this.”

  “Bye, Ellie. Give my love to the family.”

  “When I tell them you have no job, they’re going to want to come get you anyway.”

  “Then tell them the door’s locked until further notice.”

  “Sasha…”

  “Goodbye, Ellie.”

  I hang up the phone and close my eyes against the anger and hurt. All I’ve ever wanted was my family’s support. I love them more than anything in the world. Because they don’t accept that I’ve left, now I’m treated like some pariah.

  I feel so alone.

  I sniff as more tears threaten, and I allow myself a true and solid pity party. I blink back tears and look up at the apartment building right next door.

  That symbol of freedom. The view of me living my dreams.

  I’m not going to let this destroy me, and I’m not going to crawl back home to deal with a town of smug people happy they proved me wrong. I can do this! I have to find a way to do this.

  I wipe away my tears and blow my nose one more time. The time for self-pity has passed. If I want to make it in this city, I’m going to have to get my butt in gear and make my dreams happen. I pull my laptop over and turn it on.

  My first instinct is to check my work email to see if I’ve missed anything important. I frown. I’m going to need to break that habit, at least, for Cupid’s Bow. I open up a job-listing site and start my search.

  I will not be defeated by Booker or anyone else in this big, stupid, beautiful city. I’m going to go out and present myself to the world. Even if I have to go back to waitressing, I’ll do it if it means I’m here and one step closer to my dream.

  I scan through listings, but the truth is, my experience doesn’t match what they need. The short time I spent working for Booker isn’t going to turn anyone’s head.

  No matter.

  I can keep taking classes. I can work some other jobs for a few years until I can secure my degree. Maybe by then, if Lucy is willing to help still, she might know someone in another company who can help me get to where I want to go.

  I can make my dreams come true.

  I open up my resume and am stuck staring at it when my phone rings.

  If this is Ellie again, I’m not answering…

  The number is unfamiliar. I look at it for a moment and consider answering, then I throw caution to the wind.

  Probably a telemarketer, but I could use any kind of distraction. Or even a stranger to talk to.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Sasha?”

  Two things happen to my body at the sound of Booker’s voice. My heart flutters with hope and some other terribly romantic emotion, and my stomach sinks with dread. Without thinking, I pull the phone from my face and hang up.

  I stare at the black screen. My eyes are wide in the reflection as they peer back into my soul. I never gave Booker my number, though I suppose he had to have record of it from my application materials. Why is he calling me? What could he possibly have to say for himself?

  Should I have hung up?

  Knock, knock, knock.

  I jump and turn to stare at my door.

  No one knocks on my door unless they’re delivering pizza. Who could possibly be out there?

  I stare at the portal. Maybe if I glare at the door from here, I can will them away. It’s not like I’m in any condition to see anyone at the moment. I can just imagine what I look like right now, and it ain’t good.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  This time, there’s a little more force behind the knock. I can’t help but be curious.

  Is it him?

  I step off the couch one foot at a time, then tiptoe to the front door. I stand to the side, so that my shadow doesn’t creep beneath the door and give me away. These are the kinds of skills one develops growing up with a ton of siblings. I lean over and glance into the tiny peephole.

  Booker’s rounded face glares back at me.

  I dart back to the side of the door and press my hand against my chest. I’m breathing like I just ran a marathon. I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat from the other side of the door, because to me i
t sounds like it’s echoing all the way across New York.

  I wait to hear another knock and then nearly jump entirely out of my skin when my phone rings. I’m torn between sprinting across the room to silence it and staying right where I am so he can’t suspect I’m here.

  Can he hear the phone? Does he know I’m in here?

  Oh god. I can’t face him. Not after everything we’ve done, and I’ve already given my notice, and what is he doing here anyway? Is he going to chastise me for quitting over something as stupid as falling for him? Maybe he’ll tell me I should learn to be more professional, maybe develop a thicker skin.

  Don’t I want to survive in the city? Can’t do that if I fall for every boss I have only to quit when they obviously have ulterior motives.

  Ugh.

  I glance back through the peep hole. Booker looks so out of place on my dingy old doorstep in his crisp, clean outfit. After everything we’ve been though, there’s no hope we could ever be together after this. There is no reason for me to speak with him. I can’t stomach the idea.

  I turn back and look out my window as my phone ceases its ringing. I wait to see if he’ll call out my name, maybe knock again. He has to know I’m in here. Who leaves their cell phone anywhere they aren’t?

  I press my ear against the wall, but I don’t hear footsteps. Did he leave, and I just didn’t notice it yet? I hear a small swoosh sound at the door, and then his footsteps finally plod down the hallway. I wait until they disappear to look down.

  He’s slipped a note under the door.

  A note. What is this, my acceptance of termination?

  My mind is a muddled trap of unease. I pick up the white envelope and stare at it. It’s blank. Does Booker always travel with envelopes, just in case he needs to slide them beneath women’s doors?

  I turn the letter over between my fingertips. The fact that he has just touched this piece of paper makes my fingers tingle, and I realize I am a complete and total idiot.

  Booker Knight cares about me as much as he cares about a rat in the subway. This whole chasing me down thing may seem over the top, but Booker is a man who gets things done. If anything, he wants to make absolutely sure I know that quitting means I don’t get severance pay.