Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love)

by Liza O'Connor

  He frowned. The man had seemed a bit chummy with his EA when they walked out together. “Carrie, exactly how did you avoid being charged for yelling out bomb?”

  “When they finally let me go to the bathroom, I explained to the officer watching me—”

  Trent’s temper blew. “Pascal watched you go to the bathroom?”

  With rounded eyes, she replied, “No! Officer Jenson watched me.”

  He slapped his pockets for his phone. “That’s it. I’m calling my lawyer and we are suing their asses.”

  She gripped his arm. “For what? Detective Pascal and Officer Jenson couldn’t have been nicer. Now I’ll admit the other eight I didn’t like—”

  He stood, pulling her up as well, and pointed to his room. “Change clothes, we’re going to the hospital right now!”

  Instead of obeying, she stood her ground, planting her hands on her hips. “It’s not time for your appointment. They’ll just make us sit in the lobby. My rear is sore enough from—”

  He pressed the palms of his hands against his temples, trying not to lose his mind. “I’m going to kill David for not rescuing you at once!”

  She moved in close and cupped his cheek in her hands. “What have you got going on in that head of yours? I’m fine.”

  Gathering her hands, he kissed them. “No, you’re not. You’re incredibly brave and stoic, but no way are you fine. Not after ten men abused you.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “Abused? No one abused me. All right, I felt a bit roughed up by the first eight. They made me go through the same things over and over.”

  “God!” he screamed, pressing his hand against his chest. His heart pounded like an enraged beast determine to break free. “This just gets worse.” He pulled her to him. “Don’t worry, I'll make sure everyone of the bastards are fired. Starting with that jerk who led you out.”

  She pushed back and peered up at him. “What are you talking about? Pascal and Jenson allowed me to go at my own pace and be as thorough as I wished.”

  He pushed his palms against his eyes, trying to hold back the angry migraine filling his head.

  “Granted, I felt a bit weak and stressed before I got the bathroom break, but then Pascal brought me a really good turkey sandwich on nine grain bread—”

  He slammed his fist against a pillar. “I don’t give a damn what he fed you. Carrie, why didn’t you tell me this the moment I found you?”

  She stared at him in confusion. Poor girl was in shock, had been in shock the whole time, only he had failed to see it. “Mars!”

  Mars burst from the servant’s door. “Sir?”

  “Call a cab. I have to get Carrie to the hospital. She’s been sexually assaulted by Detective Pascal and his men.”

  “What?” Carrie and Mars yelled in unison.

  “Impossible,” Mars said while Carrie declared, “That’s not true.”

  Carrie grabbed Trent’s silk shirt in her tiny fists and shook him—well, the shirt. “Why aren’t you listening to me? I just told you Detective Pascal and Officer Jenson were nice to me!”

  He stilled her hands. “You also told me Officer Jenson watched you go to the bathroom.”

  “She had to! I was a suspect!”

  “She?”

  “Officer Jenson…She’s a policewoman.”

  His palpitating heart began to slow. “So no one touched you in a sexual manner?”

  “No!”

  He took in a deep breath and let out it. “Never mind the cab, Mars.”

  “Yes, sir,” the fellow snapped and stormed from the room.

  Carrie released his shirt and tried to brush out the wrinkles she’d caused. “Why would you think such a thing?”

  He looked up at the ceiling and rolled his eyes at her stupid question. “Because you, who actually did something illegal, got off without being arrested while I, who saved your life, only got out by posting a million dollars in bail. So I have to wonder what you did to get off without being charged.”

  She stepped back and glared at him, her green eyes blazing. “Okay, I am officially pissed off at you and going home.”

  Crap, why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut when angry. Nothing good ever came from it. He couldn’t let her leave…not like this. “You can’t. I gave Sam the night off.”

  “News flash. I know how to buy a ticket and get on a train.”

  She turned to leave, but he pulled her back.

  “I'm sorry.”

  “And I will accept your apology, someday. Right now, I want to go home.”

  “How are you going to buy a ticket? You told me your credit cards are maxed.”

  “Damn it!” She kicked the pillar.

  He’d never heard her curse before. “Look, if you really want me out of your sight, I’ll stay in the bedroom until it’s time for my doctor’s appointment. And you can stay here instead of going with me.”

  She glared at him. “Is there another bedroom I can sleep in?”

  He was sure if they could spoon in bed, she’d forgive him for…he had no idea what he’d done, other than give a damn when he thought she’d been gang raped by the police. Still, he’d prefer her to remain angry in his guest room than in New Jersey where he had no shot of softening her mood. With a heavy sigh, he grumbled, “I’ll ask Mars to ready the guest bedroom.”

  Even now, her angry glare softened. “All right. I’ll stay in a guest room until I get my reimbursement check and clear my credit cards. But then, I’m going home.”

  “So do you want me to go to my room?” Say no, say no, say no.

  “No, I need to pack and move my stuff. You should stay in here.

  Trent watched her leave and sat down on the couch, shell shocked. What just happened?

  Chapter 21

  Humiliated and hurt, Carrie moved her items to her new bedroom while Mars ‘readied’ it, which included providing fresh towels and stocking the medicine cabinet with everything she could possibly want. She sat on the bed and sorted through her grocery bag full of mail, desperately searching for her monthly train pass so she could leave when Trent headed to his doctor’s appointment.

  I never should have kissed him. Had I not rewarded Trent with a kiss for thanking Mars, he wouldn’t have concluded that I ‘rewarded’ the entire police force to avoid being arrested.

  Last night had been so wonderful spooning with Trent. She’d felt so safe and loved. Then, stupidly, her heart completely bypassed her brain and fell into the category ‘hopelessly in love with him—rational thoughts need not apply.’ All she wanted was to love and be loved. Never mind, they were two different species with nothing in common.

  Unfortunately, her hunger for love had muted a long running truth in her life: no one—not her parents, nor her prior boyfriend—had ever loved her. For some reason, which Carrie didn’t understand, she was unlovable.

  With that heavy thought, she reassessed the events that had just occurred.

  His recent improvements amazed her. By the time they got new employees, he might be the best boss in the world.

  So she ruins it all by kissing him on his cheek. Normally, she’d never do such a thing, but she thought their relationship had progressed to a new level. When he ignored her kiss, she realized she’d overstepped. Still, she hadn’t realized how far she’d crossed the line until he accused her of having sex with the entire police force. She’d like to believe she’d misunderstood him, but she knew his logic path all too well. He went from her kiss, to the entire police taking her by force, to implying she’d bartered her freedom with sex.

  The man she loved thought her a whore.

  An hour later, Carrie determined two grim facts. First, she had no monthly train pass. Either Sam failed to pick up all her mail or the lady who brought in her mail had borrowed it to go into the city. Carrie had told her she could use it during her absence. If the woman had taken her up on the offer, she would have no doubt put the pass on Carrie’s desk, while the mail lay on the kitchen table. Regardless, the result remained
the same: she still had no way to get home.

  She considered asking Sam to drive her, but he’d have to get Trent’s permission, and she didn’t think Trent would agree.

  Once she’d sorted her bills by their due date, she determined in seventeen days, she’d owe fifteen-thousand dollars more than she had in the bank. In thirty days, she’d need an additional seven-thousand dollars for her house and car payment, plus her quarterly taxes.

  Her month working in Taiwan had cost her almost thirty six thousand dollars, all of which Lancaster Chairs would reimburse once she filled out an expense report then got it approved and processed through the system.

  The latter point worried her. God only knew what Miss Schnell had done while her nephews threw cabinets out the window. The accounting department could be in shambles. If Trent had only listened to her when she suggested they get company credit cards that enabled the company to pay the bill directly rather than wait and reimburse employees. Unfortunately, Trent had declared hell would freeze over before he gave a credit card to any of his thieving slackers.

  If only he’d gotten her a card. What if she lost her house because of this? A sick lump formed in her stomach. It happened to good people every day. Soon, her name would join the list of victims of unforeseen disaster.

  After a half-hour of self-indulgent tears, she pulled herself together. No check had bounced yet. She still had time. If she could get the company up and running in seven days, she could survive this. God created life on Earth in seven days. Surely, she could manage the salvation of a single company.

  To do that, she needed a place to work. With renewed determination, she picked up her phone and called Detective Pascal.

  “Joseph Pascal.”

  “Detective Pascal, this is Carrie Hanson. Do you remember me?”

  A soft chuckle came over the line. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

  “Do you know who I should call to find out when we can have our building back? I need to tell the employees when they should return to work.”

  “Better let me call the guy in charge. He’s a bit of a dick. Sorry. He’s very busy and doesn’t like dealing with the public. Can I call you back in five with the answer?”

  Carrie gave him her cell phone number, thanked him, and hung up. Then she pulled out her iPad and typed a list of things she needed to do.

  Notify employees when they should return to work.

  Call front door guy.

  Ensure accounting can process expense reports.

  Thank God, Jack had protected the servers or there’d be no processing anything. Jack—he might be able to assist her.

  Crap.

  Bake Jack cookies.

  She’d have to complete that task before she asked any more favors from him.

  She rushed into the living room and softly called out, “Mars.”

  When no one responded, she entered the intimidating kitchen filled with a myriad of stainless steel appliances. God only knew how many hours it took to polish so much metal. “Hello? Mars?”

  Well, if Mars wasn’t here, he couldn’t mind if she baked cookies—assuming she could find the necessary ingredients. Otherwise, she would have to wander out in search of a grocery store and honestly, she’d never seen one around here. As far as she could tell, everyone in the city either ate at a restaurant, street vendor, or ordered take out. Nor did she have any money, so she had no choice but to invade the kitchen.

  When she found the pantry, her mouth fell open in awe. The cook kept this kitchen better stocked than most grocery stores.

  After collecting her ingredients, she carried them to the center island. Finding a stainless steel bowl took longer than shopping for her goods. She had so many drawers to pull, containing skillets, strainers, pots and pans of every shape and size imaginable. Finally, she came upon a selection of double boilers and chose one perfect for the job of melting chocolate. She continued her search for a mixing bowl and baking sheets, eventually finding them.

  She mixed smart butter, whole-wheat flour and brown sugar, plus a touch of cinnamon and vanilla to make her caramel and placed it into a pan. While her caramel cooked, she laid out the nuts to form the body of the turtles: walnut for the back, half pecans for each leg, and a brazil nut for the head.

  Every couple of minutes, she’d stir her caramel until it thickened. Once satisfied, she spooned it over the nuts. When it hardened it would hold the little feet and head to the turtle’s body. Normally, she made her own chocolate from scratch, but she’d found some delicious smelling dark chocolate in the cooler. She placed six of the two by four inch bars into the double boiler. She impatiently watched as the boiling water gently warmed and melted the chocolate bars.

  Using a large spoon, she scooped the dark chocolate up and covered the turtles one by one. As she worked on the final turtle, a stern clearing of the throat made her drown the poor fellow in so much chocolate it resembled the lumpy turtles from the Galapagos Islands.

  She looked up and smiled at Mars. “I promised the systems guy, who protected our servers, I’d bring him my gram’s chocolate turtles. I planned to hunt down a grocery store and buy the ingredients, but then remembered I have no money. Thankfully, you had everything here…” Her happy enthusiasm faded when Mar’s face grew more severe.

  “Sorry, did you need the chocolate bars for something?”

  He sighed. “The cook does not purchase items on a whim. He orders specifically for his planned menus.”

  Carrie grimaced. “If you’ll tell me where to go, I’ll buy him more…” Remembering her dire state of poverty, she groaned. “Or I will once I get the systems guy to help me get accounting back up so they can process my expense report, which why I need these cookies.” God, that didn’t make sense even to her. “It’s sort of a barter system we have going.”

  Mars stared at the cookies, as if holding them responsible for this whole debacle.

  “I’m really sorry,” she added.

  He walked closer to the turtles. Worried he planned to confiscate the entire tray as her punishment, she clutched one edge of the sheet. “Would you like one?”

  “Doesn’t it require refrigeration first?”

  “That would be optimal.”

  He sighed heavily, opened the refrigerator, and moved stuff around, creating room for the tray.

  “Do you have aluminum foil so I can make a cover over it?” she asked.

  He turned and stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. He then walked to a set of cabinets she’d never even gotten to and pulled out a transparent cover, which sat on the tray perfectly. His outraged glare let her know her cooking skills did not impress.

  Placing the turtles on the refrigerator shelf, he closed the door and focused on her. “You may return to the master’s side of the house now.”

  “I will. Just as soon as I clean up.”

  He raised his right eyebrow in challenge. “I will manage the clean-up, as well as replacing the chocolate.”

  God, she really couldn’t do anything right. She’d set off Miss Schnell’s maniacal behavior by obsessing over her purple chair. She’d caused a city-block shut down by calling out ‘bomb’ to save some people’s lives. She’d humiliated herself when she inappropriately kissed Trent on the cheek, which resulted in him thinking her a woman of loose morals who had sex with an entire police department to avoid charges. And now, she’s destroyed the cook’s meal plan by stealing the very fine chocolate he probably had flown in from Switzerland.

  “I’m really, really sorry.” Her vision went blurry as more tears threatened to rain on her shoes. Not again! She was sick to death of crying.

  Mars approached and gripped her arm. “It’s all right. I can easily replace the chocolate before Saturday’s dessert course.”

  “Except my credit cards are maxed until I can get reimbursed for my trip to Taiwan, where I went on business, not a vacation.”

  He smiled. “I am very aware of your trip to Taiwan.”

  Why would Tren
t’s butler know about her business trip? That didn’t make any sense. “Why?”

  “Master Trent’s mood dramatically worsened during your absence. We all rejoiced the day he declared his intention to retrieve you from the airport.”

  His answer just made her feel worse. “Great! Another job I’ve failed at.” She sighed.

  Mars squeezed her shoulder. “Even with all this other nonsense going on, his behavior is much improved since you returned. You really do calm him down.”

  “Oh yeah, as long as you don’t include when he yelled at me for being the whore of the police force.” Recalling the horrible day before, she added, “And when he fired me.”

  “No, I included those in my assessment.”

  Her eyes rounded. “My God! He must have been truly horrific while I was away.”

  Mars nodded solemnly.

  She bit her lower lip, remembering how Trent threatened the ‘new’ cook at his Long Island home. “You mentioned a cook quitting.”

  “I've lost two cooks this month. One Master Trent fired, one quit.”

  “And now this one will leave because of me. I’m really sorry. I just wanted an electronic expense report.”

  He patted her back as he walked her to the living room. “Chef Ivan will not quit over this matter. In fact, he will never know what happened since he’s taken today off. And given your dire need for turtles to barter for a password to gain access to an expense form to obtain reimbursement so you can pay off your credit cards, I will gladly replace the chocolates from my house account.”

  She had several more steps in the endless chain of things to do, but Mars didn’t need to know them. On the positive side, he no longer looked ready to kill her for rifling through the kitchen and stealing food.

  “Does Trent have an office here? I need to get a ton of stuff done before he returns. Otherwise, he’ll want to help and mess things up.”

  “I understand entirely. While Master Trent doesn’t have an office, I do, and you may use it…” A faint smile etched on his face. “For the price of one turtle once it’s chilled.”

  She laughed. “Deal. But be warned, I can never just eat one.”