It works. Shock flitters across his face before he can catch it. If anyone besides myself has poured their heart and soul into the Senior Sweets account, it’s Michael. To take him off the project now would be pouring salt into the open wound that is our complicated past.
“You wouldn’t,” he says, but it comes out as more of a question. His bites his thick red bottom lip. It reminds me of all the times he’d done it in the past, knowing how much it drives me crazy. But now, I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.
“Believe me, I don’t want to. But I can’t have you undermine me in front of the techs.” I choke back mention of Marissa. No need to fan that flame. “We’re supposed to be a team, Michael. You of all people -”
“I,” he yells, then lowers his voice and leans closer and jabs a thumb at his own chest. “I, of all people, should be sitting behind that desk right now, telling you to be a better team player!” A dark red flush creeps up over the collar of his button-down shirt.
“If you were the one behind this desk, you wouldn’t have to.” I keep my tone even and my gaze level with his.
At that, he throws up his arms in disgust and turns to leave. “I will not stand for this. I should have gotten that promotion, not you. This is all your fault and we both know it! Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did it all on purpose. And now? Now you expect me to follow orders and shut my mouth like a good little boy. Uh-uh.”
“What I expect is respect. You know how hard I worked for this company, right alongside you. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision, but a decision was made. And the way you choose to handle yourself now, may dictate some decisions the company — I — will be forced to make in the future.” I give that a moment to sink in, and stare at more angry red creeping up the back of his neck. If he goes out there like this, I’ll have a mutiny on my first day.
Michael twists his neck from side to side and I hear every vertebrae crack from across the room. I see his fingers grip the doorknob tighter, turning white as mine had this morning. “All I gotta say is you better watch your back.” The door closes behind him.
“Great, that went well,” I say under my own breath. How did I get myself into this mess?
Chapter Four
Three months earlier...
Michael ran his fingers along the curvature of my back. Every touch of his skin against mine ignited a fire in places long since dormant. Places I never wanted to light aflame. Never deserved. Then, when his lips traced the path his fingers had just taken, I shivered.
I’d like to remember it as pure ecstasy, but even now, I know the fear had already set in. As much as I tried to push it down, the tremble deep inside me grew worse.
“You cold, babe?” Michael offered back the cream blouse he’d slowly peeled off my body mere moments ago. I shook my head and knocked the shirt from his hand, determined to go through with this.
“Just...” I looked around for an excuse. “You sure the door is locked? What if Jerry comes back early?” I asked, though I knew the night guard finished his rounds only moments before.
“I don’t think we have to worry about Jerry.” Michael turned me around so my back pressed to him and kissed the next words down my neck. “Unless he plans on giving me back my fifty bucks.” His deep chuckle sent another wave of sensation through me, this time much more pleasant.
I reached behind my back and tugged at his belt. In my most seductive growl, I cooed, “Well, better get your money’s worth.”
Chapter Five
“Good morning, Fredo, how’s Carmen doing with the kids home for summer?” I wave down the hall to the shop foreman, who doesn’t wave back. My hand falls to my side. It’s been weeks and morale isn’t getting better. If anything, it’s much worse. That thought is driven home when Marissa brushes past me, staring at her phone, without excusing herself. She’s on her way to the staff meeting.
“Um, Marissa, may I speak with you a moment?”
She doesn’t look up, but stops and waits, fingers going like crazy on the phone screen.
“Marissa, I don’t believe these meetings are necessary for you to attend anymore. They’re not a good use of your time. You’re excused.” My decision is logical and fair, yet we both know that’s not why I made it.
Marissa’s eyes dart to the corner of the room, to where I know Michael is glaring back at us. I force my own eyes to stay trained on her, and the smile on my face to look as pleasant as possible.
“You can’t do this to me. This is discrimination, harassment!” Marissa turns and for a moment I think she’s going to throw her precious phone at me.
“No, it’s not. It’s management. When — if — our morning meeting pertains to filing, you will be brought back in, okay?” I’m bordering on patronizing now. I have to reel it in.
Marissa stomps toward me and squeezes herself in the narrow space between myself and the break room window. I close my eyes and wait for her to pass. I will not take the bait. But as I’m about to enter the room, I hear Michael’s phone beep, no doubt with a nasty text about me. Why, when I have the world at my fingertips, do I care what this past fling and his new one say about me?
All eyes turn to me as I take my place at the front of the room. With Marissa not there to occupy his attentions, Michael is holding court with the mechanics. Where most of the stares in my direction range from pleasant to annoyed, there’s a leering grin at each table in the back row. Whispers and groans die down, except for a final heckle of ‘jealous’ in Michael’s distinct voice.
Choosing to ignore the outburst, I begin. “Good morning. I hope everyone had a great weekend. Before we get to the status updates, I need a couple volunteers for the Senior Sweets final push. The deadline is next Friday and there’s still a lot of work to be done. Overtime is approved, welcomed, and frankly, necessary.”
Two of Michael’s lackeys stand. One pushes so far back his chair hits the wall. For a moment I’m worried the bulletin board will fall on his head. A Worker’s Comp claim on my first day. “I’m not bailing you out. If you can’t keep your deadlines, that’s your problem,” the one beside him says.
Before I have time to respond, they’re out. A few more chairs rustle and the entire room stands to leave without being dismissed.
I want to cry.
Just then, Michael stands and raises his hands in supplication to the group. “Guys, guys, sit down. We got this.” He turns to me, and out of sight of all the rest, winks. “I’ll take the extra load on the Sweets account. Ya’ll can go home to your families on time.”
The room erupts in thank yous and high fives, all for Michael’s benefit. Then, everyone leaves, without giving their status reports.
Michael waits for everyone to leave, then gives me another wink, sliding up close. He whispers, “Guess it’s just you and me, boss.”
“I thought we agreed to be civil,” I whisper back and reach out to him subconsciously.
“I don’t recall saying anything of the sort. And I think we lost ‘civil’ when the I got handcuffed.” Michael swipes away my hand, hard. “Don’t even.”
I move my throbbing hand behind my back. “I have time this afternoon if you want to get together to discuss finalization strategies. My office?”
“How about the conference room? I have so much work on my desk, it’ll have to be after five.” Michael’s leer widens. “So we can spread out, no interruptions, really get in deep.” He touches my cheek in a way that I used to find sensual. My stomach churns. “Unless you think you’ll be too scared.”
I am too scared, by far, but I nod. When he leaves, I’m left standing there, trembling, wondering what just happened. And whether, in my new role as department head, I’m supposed to report him for it.
Considering our history, I decide that would be the worst thing to do for both of us. So I return to my office, close the blinds, and hyperventilate.
Chapter Six
Most of the day is a wash. I can’t concentrate. I haven’t been in the conferenc
e room since that night months ago. Every time a meeting would come up, I’d be ‘on the road’ or ‘working on a breakdown’ at a customer’s location. I look at the clock and see only ten minutes left to pull myself together. I’m not gonna make it.
Pulling out my cell phone, I dial my best friend, Savannah. She picks up on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”
“I... I didn’t even say anything,” I stammer.
“You’re calling... something’s wrong. What did he do this time? Do you need me to come down there? Bail you out?” Savannah talks faster than most people can hear, but I’m used to it.
“No, it’s not... he... we have a meeting in the conference room and I...” I reply, skipping to the important parts. She’s heard all about my troubles with Michael, no need to drag myself through them again.
“Why would you meet in there? I don’t think you’re ready. Isn’t your new office big enough for those meetings? That reminds me, I still need to come by and—”
“I didn’t call the meeting. He did.” I interrupt so she can take a breath. “And he did it with this look on his face. Savannah, it’s like he’s trying to freak me out.” The thought of that wicked grin and his chiseled movie star jawline brings up some horrible memories that I force back down in my gut.
“That bastard. You have to report him. Don’t let this get out of hand. You know you can’t deal with this right now.” Savannah’s voice cracks. She’s such an empath.
“I can’t report him. Not with everything that happened. Who would believe me? And... he worked so hard on this account. I can’t do that to him. I’ll figure it out. I’m sorry to worry you. Want to meet for dinner... or drinks... afterward? I’m sure I could use the break.” I make myself sound cheerful for her sake, but I forget one crucial thing.
“Drinking on a Monday, girl? Are you sure you can handle this new job?” Savannah laughs, but we both hear the strain in her voice.
“We’ll be drinking to celebrate the end of this project and the last time I’ll have to work with him.”
“You gonna fire him?”
“No, of course not. But he’s not really on my team. This is just residual work that has to get done. See, everything will be fine after next week. I love you. Text me later to let me know you’re coming.” I hang up before she can argue.
Yes, I tell myself, I just have to make it through a couple quick meetings with him, then he’ll move on to other projects and things will settle down.
When Henry opens my office door to tell me he’s gone for the day and that Michael’s already set up in the conference room, I’m almost happy. Let’s do this.
Chapter Seven
Three months earlier...
“Well, better get your money’s worth.” That’s what did it.
All of a sudden, I was on the ground, shaking. I reached for my clothes but they were too far away. Tears poured down my cheeks, unable to stop. Michael jumped back, hands in the air. “Huh, what the-”
“Go, just... just go!” I yelled. Thoughts and horrible memories swirled in my head, memories of the last time I said those same words. Only, then, they weren’t my words. They were my script. How could I have said them again, now, on my own? What kind of monster still lurked inside me? What hold did they still have over me?
Michael stepped forward with his hand outstretched to help me up, but I cowered deeper under the desk. “Don’t touch me!”
I stared up at him through my tears. His belt buckle hung loose and his bare chest heaved. I could still see the thick patch of hair on his navel that I’d had my hands all over just moments before. And now? Now the sight of it sickened me.
Defeated and utterly confused, Michael wiped a sweaty black curl from his eye and kicked my blouse across the floor in my direction. He moved to take another step. “Why are you acting so crazy?”
“Get the hell away from me before I call the cops!” My voice sounded shrill in my ears.
“Heyyy, whoa, let’s chill on the cops talk, now. This was consensual. I didn’t know you were gonna freak out on me.” Michael quickly threw his shirt on inside out and tucked it down his still unbuckled pants. “I don’t want to leave you like this. Can I at least take you home?”
I didn’t say anything, but the look on my face must have said enough for me. Michael backed out of the conference room and muttered under his breath, “... get my fifty back.”
I stayed there, under the table for a long time, trembling and beating myself up. I’d made such a mess of everything. I’d thought that our long friendship would be enough to shelter me from the worst of it. Under any other circumstance, I trusted Michael unconditionally. But I still couldn’t bring myself to be touched.
Minutes passed before I had enough control over my body to stand and start getting dressed. I was pulling my panties up my skirt when a shadow passed across the open doorway. I jumped and screamed.
“I’m sorry, Beth. It’s just me.” Jerry began to come in the room when his flashlight shined on me, on my red splotchy face and manner of undress. “Oh, Beth! You alright? What did he do to you? I’m so sorry.” Jerry came at me, arms out, in an attempt to console me. But it only made things worse.
I devolved into a heaping mess on the floor.
It took nearly an hour for Jerry to convince me that everything was going to be okay, and another hour for me to convince him there was no need to call the cops. In the end, he obeyed, but the damage had already been done.
Chapter Eight
It’s nearly five on the dot when I enter the conference room. I wait for everyone to start packing up for the day. Though I have a legitimate reason for meeting with Michael after hours, my first instinct is the feeling that we’re sneaking around. It sends a wave of heat through me, a sense memory of the times we did rendezvous after hours. My body wants so much for us to stoke the fire, but too much bad blood has passed between us.
The look on Michael’s face, and the fact that he’s clear across the long conference table, tells me those days of us finding pleasure in each other’s arms are just a dream. One that I cut short in the worst possible way.
I cross the room to take the seat closest to Michael and he slams his palms on the table, spreading his arms wide to mark his territory. With the files and CAD drawings, he creates a wide buffer between himself and the rest of the conference table.
“Is that really necessary?” I ask, raising my voice so it carries down the table, and to show how ridiculous his behavior is.
“Everyone walking past this glass panel will see me cowering away from you, trying to just do my work, and you...” He grins and lowers his voice, “You are already yelling at me in front of the whole office, Elizabitch.”
I recoil at the vile nickname. I may not be his direct manager but I’m still a superior. But is it worth the fight? It’s not like I can run to corporate crying that he called me names.
I sigh. “Very well, where are we on the new specs?” I reach for the nearest CAD drawing and Michael slaps my hand away.
“That’s proprietary!” He snatches the stack of drawings up and flips them over to where I can’t see them.
Tears threaten to fall but I blink them back. How did things get this bad between us? “Everyone passing this glass panel right now just saw that as well,” I can’t stop myself from saying. I hope it will snap some sense into him and help me regain some composure. Lord knows I’m not in control.
Michael laughs. “Do you honestly think they would say anything? Nobody in this building gives a shit about you. I could do whatever I want and totally get away with it.” He shoves a different stack of drawings toward me. Most of the papers fall to the floor. “Besides,” he continues with a snarl on his lips, “I owe you one, don’t you think? Kinda got myself a free pass.”
I stand there, dumbstruck, waiting for some semblance of chivalry to kick in. When it doesn’t, I bend over to pick up the fallen documents. At the same time, Michael pushes out the chair beside him and it hits me. Pain erupts in
my head and down my shoulder.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” He gasps loud enough for any remaining coworkers to hear. “I was just gonna get those for you. Here, let me.” Leaning over, Michael bunches up the papers and tosses them back onto the conference table. I’m still rubbing my shoulder so even though he’s destroying my copies of the file, I let him. I’ll just have to make clean copies tomorrow.
“Michael, we can’t keep this up. I’m sorry for how things ended between us, truly. But this hostility is unacceptable. This is the last project we have to work on together. Let’s please get through it. I know this account is as important to you as it is to me.” I stand and offer my hand again as a show of faith.
Michael takes it, plasters a politician’s smile on his face, and squeezes hard. “I’m sure it will be the last project... for one of us.”
Chapter Nine
Two months earlier...
“Please have a seat, Miss Covington.” Mr. Campbell nodded his bald head toward the chair in front of his desk. His formal tone confused me until the door closed by itself, and a uniformed officer stood behind it.
Every nerve in my body tensed. They found me. “Sir, I... can explain... please. I... had no choice,” I stuttered.
“That won’t be necessary.” Mr. Campbell stood. “Please, sit.” He said it with more force that time and my body obeyed without question.
The officer made a move toward me and I burst into tears. I should have known better than to stay so close to home. ‘Move out west’, I had told myself, but no. I had to stay here, had to be close to my mom, and look.
“I know this is a difficult time, Ms. Covington.” The officer put a large firm hand on my shoulder and offered me a tissue with the other. “But we’re here to help you. This is a safe place.”
Hearts of Darkness: A Valentine's Day Bully Romance Collection Page 81
