by Emelia Blair
I stare at the box in my hand. “Did you send me candy in a box?”
Silence on the other end, then, “What?”
The disbelief in his voice makes me wince. “Never mind.”
His words are a snarl, and I know I am going to end up paying for this at some point when I return. “You called me up to ask me if I sent you candy?” I sigh.
“You’re right. It is my mistake. I thought it was from you and you were just messing with me.”
I hear more movement from his end and the sound of the bed creaking as if he just sat up.
“What’s going on?” He sounds serious now.
I remember the flowers in my room and purse my lips. “Nothing. Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Agatha.” There is a warning note in his voice, and I force cheer into mine.
“It’s nothing. Sorry for waking you up. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Not giving him a chance to say anything, I cut the call.
I stare at the box, my coffee forgotten and growing cold. I suddenly recall the handcuffs and I shake my head.
This is taking things too far.
But as I leave for the airport, I feel a little tingling between my shoulder blades and I shift, uneasy.
Once back in Chicago, falling into the routine of things takes my mind off of Ian. Most of it is due to the fact that George’s account is the biggest one I have and I force myself to work until I am dead on my feet.
I don’t let myself think about Ian.
I don’t let myself feel hurt that I have been back for a week and he has not bothered to see me or call me. I can feel that Jenna is starting to give me concerned looks. I don’t know her boyfriend that well, but when I had come across his resume on my desk for a paid internship, I hired him to work alongside Jenna.
They make a great team, and although work is moving along fast, I keep piling more on myself just to tire myself out.
“Aren’t you going home today?” Jenna has her bag on her shoulder and is staring at me. I shrug.
“I’ve got this pile of documents left. I want to sort through them. George is coming in a few days. I want everything ready for him.”
Jenna waggles her brows. “So, what’s his deal? He’s been calling you a lot these days.”
I roll my eyes and grab the half-empty water on from my desk and take off the cap. “His deal is that he wants to know everything about everything. One of the team members sneezes, George wants a seven-page report on his desk about it, appendices included.”
Jenna frowns. “He didn’t seem that crazy when we met him last week.”
Chugging down the water, I know she is right.
Hands restless, I undo my ponytail and shake out my hair. “I don’t know. But he is the biggest account we have, and I’m willing to bend over backward to keep him with us.”
Jenn glances over at where Nick waits for her by the elevator. Then, she puts down her bag. “I’ll help.”
I shake my head, saying firmly, “Absolutely not. I know you two have a date planned.”
Jenna glares at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. I know you’ve spent the past few days holed up here. You need a break. Nick and I can do this.”
Frustration raises in me like a wave, and I try to push it down. “Please, Jenna. Just go. I’ll be fine. The second I’m tired, I’ll go to sleep. I promise.” I cross around the desk and give her a hug. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the gesture.”
Getting Jenna to leave is a task in itself and I breathe a sigh of relief when she finally leaves.
I know Jenna means well and she is worried, but she doesn’t understand how badly I need to throw myself into my work.
Ian rejected me.
All my plans to convince him to give us a try… none of them mean anything now. The wetness on my cheeks makes me blink, and I slap them, fiercely ordering myself, “So what? So what if he doesn’t feel the same way? You want him. You don’t need him.”
But a part of me sits in stunned hurt.
However, as I glance around my office, I know I have bigger things to worry about. It is starting to smell like a garden in here.
I don’t know where these daily deliveries are coming from, but whoever is sending me these bouquets is starting to get on my nerves. Sometimes small gifts will arrive. What bothers me is that these gifts will contain things that I like, like my favorite brand of chocolate, or a bottle of wine that I have lately been in the mood for.
Gritting my teeth, I hope whoever it is either gives up this stupid idea of anonymity or just stops. Jenna thinks it is oddly romantic, but then Jenna thinks everything is romantic.
Unable to stand the stench of the flowers, I go into the office kitchen and dump the contents of the vase. From tomorrow onwards, I am going to make it Nick’s responsibility to discard all these gifts.
I have had enough of cowards in my life.
Getting back to work, I push away all thoughts of men from my mind and start going through the documents. Hours must have passed because when my phone rings, I notice its battery is dying.
“Zayn.” It annoys me that my voice sounds so weary.
“Where are you? I’m outside your apartment.”
Setting the phone on speaker, I rub my face. “Were we supposed to have dinner tonight?”
Although Zayn and I fight like rabid dogs, there is a sweet element to our relationship that we don’t share with the rest of the group. After all, we have our reputations to maintain. Often, we will have dinner together or watch the game or just hang out.
Zayn is closest to me in age, and while he has that whole dark and dangerous vibe going for him, I can sense the loneliness inside him. When it is just him and me, it is a comfortable atmosphere.
“No, but I was in the neighborhood and you haven’t exactly been hanging out with us. Fergus says you haven’t dropped by the bar since you got back, and Charlotte and Sarah haven’t heard from you.”
I stand up and walk over to the window, fiddling with the blinds. My office is on the third floor, and I have a very clear view of the street outside, which is empty at the moment, except for a man who seems to be waiting for someone.
“I have been busy. I have a client to deal with these days. Getting away is starting to become kind of hard.”
“Where are you then?” Zayn sounds a little annoyed.
“At the office,” I say, idly, my eyes on the figure outside.
Why is he just standing there?
“It’s ten at night,” Zayn growls. “Why are you still there?”
The person is wearing a dark hoodie, his hands stuck in his pockets.
Weirdo.
“I am going over some documents.”
I am hardly paying any attention to the conversation, my focus on the lone figure standing under the streetlight.
I narrow my eyes. Is his head tilted towards me or is it just a trick of the light?
On a closer look, my spine tingles as I realize that he is looking right at me, and he has covered his face with a mask: an ugly clown mask.
My breath catches and I jump with a squeak when the email notification on my open laptop makes a sound.
“What’s wrong? Agatha?” Zayn’s voice sounds hard.
My heart is beating fast, and I stammer, “N-nothing. It is just the email; the noise it made… I got scared.”
I make my way to my table and glance at the email and my blood chills.
‘Yellow is really your color.’
There is a smiley face at the end, but no signature.
I am wearing a yellow blouse.
Rushing to the window. I peek out.
The man is gone.
Suddenly the office seems darker and larger than ever, and for the first time in a long time, I feel frightened.
“Hey, Zayn?”
“What is it?” he asks warily. “What's going on? You sound weird.”
I nearly choke on the fear that is building up in my throat. “Ah, why don’t yo
u come and pick me up? I’m nearly done here.”
“Where’s your car?” he asks, his voice sounding suspicious.
My throat is dry as my hand curves around a heavy paperweight. “I’m too tired to drive. Can you please hurry?”
“Agatha, what’s wrong?” I can feel concern and urgency leaking into his voice and my mouth flaps open, no words coming out.
My office has no door on it, and I am starting to regret that I let Jenna turn off all the lights in the other rooms.
“Nothing.” My voice comes out hoarse. “Just come pick me up, please.”
The fact that I am so scared gets to Zayn, and he says curtly, "I’m on my way.”
I am a strong woman.
I have always been an independent woman, carving my own path, not fearing anybody. Fear like this is not something I experience too often. I am always protected, my mace my best friend, but this sort of terror is new to me. This helplessness breaks a piece of me, and I hate it.
At this moment, I hate everything about this.
I hate Ian for turning me into this person whose heart is so soft that it shatters at his blatant rejection. However, right now, I also need him.
My fingers find themselves dialing his number, and before I know it, the call is going through.
“Hello?”
There is something different about his voice, a formality that has never been there.
“Ian, it’s me.”
I don’t know why I said that. Of course, he knows it’s me.
“Agatha, I’m sorry. I can’t talk right now. I’m occupied at the moment. Can this wait?”
The distance in his voice makes me sway, and I bite my lower lip so hard that I bleed. “Yeah,” I stare at my office doorway, my voice hollow, “It’s nothing.”
I hear the click of the phone, and I steel my heart against the sharp throbbing pain.
One problem at a time.
I have very good aim. So, if the next person who walks through those doors isn’t Zayn, they will end up sporting a very bad head injury.
Fortunately, it is Zayn, and my body shakes like a leaf when I see him.
“Are you okay?” he demands, his ruffled dark hair telling me that he didn’t have his helmet on while he drove. His icy blue eyes are sharp as they study me and then sweep the room looking for danger. His hands go inside the leather jacket, and I just know he is reaching for his gun.
“It’s fine. Let’s go.”
The relief of seeing him is so great that I want to break down and cry.
I refuse to.
I refuse to let him or anyone see my weakness, so I dig my nails into my palm, my hands curl into fists.
I brush past Zayn, and he grabs me by my arm, his face serious.
“Agatha.” That tone is only reserved for when something is really wrong, and I purse my lips and force myself to meet his gaze.
“I’m overworked and exhausted. I am just hearing things.” I give him a small smile. “I probably need to sleep for the next twenty-four hours.”
He doesn't seem to buy it, but for now, he lets it go, and I feel I can breathe easier.
However, as we leave the building, I can’t shake the feeling that somebody is watching me.
5
Ian
I stare at my phone for the fifth time.
“Whose call are you waiting for?” Fergus is standing behind the bar for a change, not working, just waiting for his fiancée to show up. In his usual attire of black pants and dress shirt, one would think he can’t identify any other color, but Sarah loves him despite that.
I shrug my shoulders. “No one in particular.”
“Want a drink?” my childhood friend asks.
“Yeah. Whiskey, actually,” I mutter.
Fergus scoffs. “That’s the drink of the heartbroken. What happened? Agatha finally dumped you?”
I stiff at the implication. “Not funny. I’m just in a whiskey kind of mood.”
The bartender puts a whiskey down in front of me at Fergus’s gesture and then retreats to the other side of the bar to handle the other customer.
Despite having Irish blood, in all the time I’ve known Fergus, he has never touched a drink. His father had been an alcoholic, and I knew a part of him has a complicated relationship with the beverage, where he blames his father’s alcoholism for separating him and his sister; she ended up dying in a car crash halfway across the world from him.
“So, you and Agatha fighting?”
I give him an annoyed look. “You could try to look a little less gleeful over it.”
“Sorry, sorry. Go on. What did you do?”
I pick up the glass and throw the burning liquid down my throat before saying, heavily, “I think she wants more than friendship.”
Fergus eyes me, and I am taken aback to see the amusement in his eyes. “Oh, she does, does she?”
“What?” I growl.
Fergus leans back against the bar, resting his elbows on it, “Nothing. I’m just curious. Do you plan to avoid her ‘til she stops wanting more?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Is that what I am doing?
Fergus watches me. “It’s surprising though. I recently started getting the feeling that you aren’t opposed to the idea.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You know?”
He scoffs. “Everybody knows. You two are always together. And I’ve seen the way you look at her.” I don’t say anything, and my friend shrugs. “Don’t let it get to you. She’ll get over you soon enough. I take it you haven’t seen her either?”
“Either?” I echo.
“Zayn told me she’s so busy with work that she spends most of her days at the office and sometimes nights. A few days back, he went to pick her up. Then he bunked at her place.”
My jaw tightens. “Why’d he sleep there?”
Fergus shrugs. “The club is being restructured from inside. He’s got a few days to kill, so he probably hung out with her for a while. But he sounded odd. But I’ve not seen her either. And neither has Philip. It’s nearing three weeks.”
I feel a hint of worry grow in me.
It is starting to look like she is just avoiding everybody.
Fergus is still talking. “But Agatha has always been wild and independent. There are tons of lawyers who work in her building. I’m sure—”
“I kissed her.”
Fergus freezes. “You did what?”
I curl my hands around the whiskey glass and consider throwing it against the wall. “We were in New York. She was talking about some guy, and I got jealous. We were both a little drunk.”
The look Fergus is giving me is not a friendly one. “What happened then?”
I don’t meet his eyes. “I realized then that she wanted more. And I panicked. I left.”
Fergus closes his eyes before he carefully says, “You kissed her, and when you thought she might have feelings for you, you ditched her? Have you called her or tried to talk to her about it?”
I know I am being an asshole. It hasn’t escaped my notice.
But Agatha is new to me. This thing what she wants, my feelings for her that are rapidly transforming, make me wary.
“I wouldn’t know what to say,” I mutter.
Fergus glares at me. “How about ‘I’m sorry for being a douchebag, Agatha.’”
I don’t say anything, the guilt setting in.
Fergus growls, “You know she’s never going to come to any one of us with her problems. She hates anybody seeing her as weak. If you break her heart, she’ll never speak to you again, as well.”
The words strike a chord in me and I stiffen. “I didn’t break her heart. I just—”
“How do you know?” Fergus’s mouth is pressed in a thin line as he struggles to contain his anger. “No one has seen her for over three weeks. She’s closed herself in her office, just working day and night. Only Zayn’s seen her. The last time she did something like this was when Charlotte disappeared for a y
ear.”
“What do you want me to do?” I snarl at him. “Marry her?”
Fergus shakes his head at me, disbelief and disgust a warring combination on his face. “You’re treating her like you treat the women you casually see for a night. You’ll lose her completely like this.”
“I didn’t—”
“You kissed her, Ian. Not the other way around. Even if she has feelings for you, she never acted on them. But you did. Which means that she’s not the only one who’s harboring feelings.”
I run a hand through my hair, agitated. “I don’t want to screw up our friendship.”
“I think you already have.”
I sigh. “I know. I get that I’m being a coward. But she’s… Agatha is special. If things don’t work out, it will ruin everything.”
Fergus picks up my empty glass and leans back to pick up the whiskey bottle. “You already kissed her and ran. What more can you do?” I make a frustrated noise, and my friend raises a brow. “Agatha is beautiful and smart and successful. And her building is full of good-looking lawyers, who are often hitting on her. The minute she realizes you don’t want her, she’ll move on. If you’re willing to see her with—”
The jealousy building up inside me at imagining Agatha with a faceless man, her long legs wrapped around him; the image makes me see red.
I stand up, abruptly. “I’m leaving.”
Fergus doesn’t try to stop me, but his voice carries over the noisy bar, pleasantly. “Hurt her and I’ll kill you, Ian.”
I shrug on my jacket and tuck my phone in my back pocket.
The day she called me, there was an undernote of something in her voice. I picked up on it but I was about to start an important meeting. However, I know that I could have talked to her in a gentler way, or a normal way, instead of being so cold and formal.
It is evening, and although it is pretty cold, the walk will help me clear things up in my head.
I know I have complicated feelings for Agatha. I know my feelings are getting stronger day by day, but she has always been too special to me to fuck around with. Maybe if I just talk to her and tell her I am not ready for anything right now.
She will understand.
However, deep inside I know that no matter how much it hurts her, she will never tell me about it. If I speak to her now, a line will be drawn, one that she will never let me cross again, even if I will be ready.
