He held up a hand to stop me. “Keep it.” A bemused smile flickered across his lips and it seemed for a moment I had his full attention…and approval. “You need it more than I do right now.”
The air was chilly and I knew I looked a mess; the coat hung on me but at that moment I needed the cover. Murmuring my thanks I walked quickly out of the alcove and started toward the exit. I lifted a shaky hand to my head; my hair was loose but seemed to be in order. I’d need to find a mirror quickly as I was certain I looked a fright.
I heard the sound of a car pulling up behind me and stopping. Against my better judgment I glanced back to see a chauffeur step out of a long black limousine and open the passenger door, and the handsome stranger duck inside. I stood there, staring like an idiot, as the driver closed the door then pulled out toward the exit. The windows of the car were tinted so I couldn’t see inside as it passed by me, and I watched as my erstwhile ride pulled past the guards and out into the loud traffic outside. Who on earth was this man? I wondered, then shut off that line of thought and headed out of the empty garage.
I pulled into a nearby cafe and locked myself inside the bathroom to clean myself up. Fifteen minutes later I ducked back out, my satchel hanging by its strap over a bare arm and the dress coat draped over the bag. I caught a later train than usual but most of that time was a haze, my brain repeating one thought over and over again.
What the hell was I doing?
3
The next morning, I arrived at work half an hour early and made sure the elevator I took did not contain the stranger. Nervous as I was that someone might comment on my actions the previous day, it was a relief to be ignored as usual by the people around me. The building at that hour held a fraction of its usual occupants but I hurried to my desk to avoid any unwanted conflicts with certain green-eyed individuals.
I’d spent most of my evening and night trying to figure out whether or not I should go to work the next morning. The recklessness and downright stupidity of my actions haunted me all night, making me go so far as to question my sanity. This isn’t who I am. I’d never been so thoughtless about my actions and a desperate libido wasn’t answer enough for me.
I’d started searching out job opportunities, something I could turn to if my present situation went sour, but the market was as tough as ever. The proper half of my brain demanded I quit and leave this job, but the logical portion maintained I needed the money. Rent on my tiny studio apartment was coming due and I had no other options at the moment unless I wanted to live on the streets.
Oh Lucy, how far you’ve fallen.
Once I got to my desk I spent my time on work that avoided me having to log into the computer as I didn’t want my early arrival noticed by management. My coworkers arrived, chatting amongst themselves as they passed by my tiny cubicle, but I stayed in my little corner for most of the day, content to be ignored. The day went by uneventfully until almost four in the afternoon when my boss poked her head around the walls of my desk. “Follow me please, Ms. Delacourt.”
My manager’s presence startled me. I saw her almost every day but, after my initial interview, she had all but ignored my presence in the office. That she chose now to talk to me had the world spinning and my stomach curling into knots. Her tone brooked no argument however and with a hurried, “Yes Ms. Crabtree,” and a brief pause to get myself together, I pulled myself up on trembling legs and followed after her.
She bypassed her office door and strode out the door of our office section to the hall outside. I followed after her silently, afraid to ask what this was about for fear of learning the whole building knew about my sexcapades the day before. I could think of no other reason I’d be called out, and I doubt they’d take me out of my section simply to fire me.
We rode the elevator silently up another four stories. My manager never once spoke to me and was impossible to read - not that I tried too hard, afraid of what I’d find. The moment the elevator doors opened however I knew I was in an entirely different world. Gone were the lifeless narrow corridors: the elevator opened into a wide passage lined with dark wood paneling that had the company name “Hamilton” in bold letters across the wall. The wide entryway led toward a reception desk in the opening of a large open room. Office doors lined the walls and two large glass-encased conference rooms on either corner of the large area. There was a rich old world sense about everything, dark woods and gold accents mixing with modern lighting and artwork.
“Mr. Hamilton is expecting us,” my boss said to the lady at the desk, who nodded and picked up a phone as we passed.
I stumbled at her words, my legs suddenly refusing to work. Why are we in the corporate section of the building? I’d never read up on the company; it was a temp job, meant to be only a short-term employment gig, but I knew this wasn’t any kind of business floor. It had a Donald Trump feel, more a reception area than an office. There was no way however that they’d send me here if they knew what I’d done.
Confusion and trepidation continued to climb as I followed behind my supervisor at a cautious distance. She headed toward one of the offices and knocked before poking her head inside. “Mr. Hamilton will see you now,” she said, motioning for me to go enter.
I stood there, staring mutely at my manager for a moment, then slowly moved toward the door. I gave her one last confused glance as I walked through, then came to a halt inside as renewed horror washed over me. Oh no, no no no…
“Thank you Agatha, that will be all for now.”
Nodding once, my supervisor pulled the door beside me closed as I stood, aghast, inside the large office. My mouth worked soundlessly as I stared at the familiar figure sitting behind the desk. My eyes fell to the name plate on the desk. “Jeremiah Hamilton,” I said, body numb with shock.
The dark haired man behind the desk raised cool eyes to appraise me. “Ms. Delacourt,” he said in reply, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. “Please take a seat.”
My heartbeat sped up as I heard his voice, confirming my worst fears. Unable to speak, I moved to the chair he’d motioned me toward, movements jerky and hesitant, and sat down. He ignored me, running through something on his tablet in his hand. As we sat in strained silence I glanced around the large office. Windows covered the back wall behind the desk and CEO from ceiling to floor, giving a panoramic view of the streets below. The desk was a dark wood and sturdy, covered sparsely with a laptop computer, the name plate, and a Newton’s Cradle, the steel balls unmoving. The chair I sat in was plush and thick with rolling castors at the bottom making it easy to move around.