"Um." I pick it up, feeling like there's a punchline coming. "Okay. I don't really…"
"Money's no object," he says, with a dismissive gesture. "Obviously."
I look up at him. He's smiling, like he knows exactly how obnoxious he's being.
"Obviously," I echo. And then I smile back, because sometimes I just can't help it.
He holds my gaze for a moment, and I realize I'm opening my mouth to speak.
"Thank you, Adrian."
At first, there's no reaction. Then his eyes open a fraction wider, I'm sure I'm not imagining it - his face softening slightly in confusion and genuine surprise. I don't know why I said it. I don't know why I called him Adrian. I don't think of him that way, except now apparently I do.
"Right, well," he says, suddenly, pushing off my desk and disappearing down the hallway. "No problem. It's a business expense."
I don't actually think it is, but that's between him and his accountant. It's funny, though, how he almost seems to be deflecting it. Normally he absorbs any positive attention like a sponge. Or any negative attention, for that matter.
Who the hell is this man, and what did he do with my boss?
Chapter Four
ARCHIVED ITEMS: MORE THAN ONE MONTH OLD
From: [email protected]
BTW, I loved that scene when the lingerie just showed up at her doorstep. I was laughing so hard when she just set it down on the floor stared at it from the across the room before she could even open it. I can just imagine doing the same thing. And it was super hot how he never even asked to see her in it, he just wanted her to feel sexy at work. I can't imagine wearing stockings and garters and a lace thong would really be all that practical for a minimum ten-hour day, but hell, with a guy like Dirk I'd be happy to find out.
From: [email protected]
You've never worn lingerie under your work clothes before? You really should try it out. I bet your boss would treat you differently.
From: [email protected]
lol. If I flashed him, maybe. Otherwise he'd never notice. Trust me, he only looks for things to criticize.
SAVED DRAFTS: UNSENT
Account: [email protected]
I dare you to wear thigh-highs and a skirt short enough to show off the tops of them when you sit down. I guarantee you'll get a reaction out of him.
***
"What are you up to later, doll?"
Ugh ugh ugh ugh.
Mike from the legal department is slimy. And not like, Mr. Risinger slimy. That's not even a good word to describe Adrian. On the surface it seems to fit, but it doesn't. Mike is slimy slimy, like he practically leaves a trail behind him. He definitely thinks he's better than everyone, and he especially thinks he is entitled to treat this company as his own personal harem, willing or not.
"Watching Mr. Risinger put his fist through your sternum later, if you keep talking to me that way," I tell him, calmly. I don't know if it's true, but it works as an intimidation technique. Yet he keeps coming back, like a dog getting sprayed by a skunk.
"Keep playing hard to get, it only makes me…well, you know," is Mike's parting shot, as he saunters out of the room.
If he keeps up with this shit, I'm going to need an airsickness bag for my desk. It seems to get worse every day.
Putting the incident out of my mind, I start clicking through my inbox and planning for my shopping trip later. I know there's a plus-size boutique not too far away, so I should be able to hit it on my lunch without losing too much time. I'm still completely swamped, but at least I have a plan of action, and that makes me feel slightly calmer.
Now, if everything can just go according to plan.
***
After grabbing a protein bar from the vending machine, I stop by Adrian's office to let him know I'm going shopping. He hasn't told me about any meetings and his phone line's not lit up, so I don't bother to knock, as I often don't.
But he's not alone. One of the interns, from Accounting, I think, is sitting across from his desk, curled up in a posture that reminds me of a soda can that's been stepped on. Her face is streaked with tears. Oh, shit. I completely forgot about the coffee incident. He must've picked someone at random to unleash his wrath on.
Anger is bubbling up inside me, but I can't make this situation any better by jumping into the middle of it - at least, not until I'm sure what's going on. "I'm sorry," I blurt out, taking a step back. "I didn't…"
"It's all right," says Adrian. His voice is low and serious, and he doesn't have that glint in his eye like when he's just told somebody off. Maybe I'm wrong, after all. "She's just leaving. Thank you for coming to me, Ashley. You can go home for the rest of the day."
She nods, sniffling, and makes herself scarce.
I spend a few seconds in silence, trying to figure out what the hell I just missed.
"Sit down, Meghan." He's tapping his fingers on the desk in a very particular way, and it's something I've grown to associate with an executioner's drum call. "Do you know Mike Morgan, from legal?"
I'm chewing on my lower lip without meaning to. "You could say that. Sometimes he stops by when you're not around."
Adrian interlaces his fingers, elbows resting on his desk. "Impressions?"
"Creepy," I say, without hesitating. "High octane creepy. Why?"
"Did he ever touch you?" It's a matter-of-fact question, and I'm not used to Adrian not having a tone of some sort.
"God, no." I'm horrified. "I'd twist his arm off. Did he…"
Adrian's face tells me everything I need to know. My stomach sinks.
"I'm…shit, I should've said something." I hug myself tightly. "I figured he was just…I don't know what I figured." I figured you'd tell me to laugh it off. "That poor girl."
"Not your fault," says Adrian, shortly. "He's counting on nobody wanting to make a scene. He knows exactly how far he can push someone before they'll talk. It's like a sixth sense." He picks up a pen uncaps it firmly. "But this time he misjudged."
I've never seen him like this. As insufferable as he is, he's never said the kinds of things Mike says, or made me feel the way Mike did. And he's never given me any reason to assume that he doesn't take it seriously. I just did. And I was wrong.