Standing outside my building, Rebel’s car at his back, my arms wrapped around his middle, his hands in my hair, and our mouths melded together in a never ending kiss, I feel like the teenager I never got to be.
“Are you sure you can’t come with me today? It’s going to be strange driving there alone.” After spending so much time in the backseat of his car, I’ve grown somewhat dependent on the routine. It’s just like when I was a kid. If my friend was absent, I had no desire to be in school that day.
That’s what it feels like now. Rebel’s skipping the office today. He’s being vague when I ask him why. The only information he’ll allow is a confirmation that it has everything to do with why his mother was at his apartment yesterday. There’s something going on, but he won’t tell me what. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, but my instincts are firing on all cylinders, and they’re telling me to be wary.
“I would be there if I could, but I have to take care of this.”
My forehead creases as my brows pull together. “Take care of what?” I ask suspiciously. “Does this have anything to do with Florence or those pictures? Wait, did you find out if she’s the one who sent them to me?” If anyone could get to the bottom of this, it would be Rebel. With the kind of connections he’s hinted at having, I doubt there’s not much in the world that he couldn’t get access to if he wanted it bad enough.
Dropping one last kiss on my lips, Rebel sets me away from him and steps down off the curb, his hand grasping the door handle. Pursing his lips, he considers his answer. “Maybe, possibly, and that’s what I’m going to find out.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I jut my hip out. “Ha, ha. You’re such a funny man.”
A slow smirk spreads across his face and those midnight eyes flash devilishly as Rebel opens the door and lifts one foot into the car. “Think of me while I’m gone.”
Fuck. I can’t resist his charms when he looks at me like that. Sighing, I drop my arms while rolling my eyes. “As if it’s possible not to.”
Winking, Rebel drops down into the backseat. I stand there a moment longer, waiting, but the car doesn’t move an inch. I intended to watch him go, maybe wallow in self-pity for a little while before heading into my apartment to shower and change for work, but it’s clear he and Gerardo aren’t going anywhere.
The tinted window slides down. Rebel has his cell phone pressed to his ear, and he’s barking orders at whoever is on the other end of the line. That was fast. I meet his harsh gaze and one dark, expectant eyebrow rises.
“Right. Sorry. I’m going.” Raising both hands in front of me, I back away a few steps before turning on my heel and heading inside.
Rebel is very stern that way. He may not walk me to my door like a regular gentleman, but he refuses to leave until he’s seen me safely inside the building. It’s kind of sweet, in Rebel fashion anyway.
With little less than an hour to get to work on time, I shower quickly and twist my damp hair up into a sleek bun. I go light on the makeup, using a sheer foundation, a little bronzer, and a tinted lip gloss that goes nicely with the simple hairstyle. Borrowing a page from Florence’s handbook, I choose a flirty yet professional three-piece, fitted pantsuit consisting of pale gray pants, a matching vest, and a crisp white button-up blouse with a plunging neckline. It’s a statement piece in itself, so I leave the jewelry at home.
Driving in my old, battered Toyota is like a trip back through time. I haven’t been behind a wheel since my trip back from Virginia to visit Annie. With work being so close and traffic being a bitch, I’ve been opting for a cab or, more recently, to ride in style courtesy of Rebel. I could do the same today, but I’m feeling particularly withdrawn now that I’ve had time to come down from my high after spending the weekend in Rebel’s bed. Being behind the wheel of my own car, my personal property, feels like returning to some distant part of me that I’ve forgotten.
The engine sputters to life, reminding me of how long it’s been sitting unattended and ignored. “Relax,” I coo to it as I roll the windows down to clear out the stale air. “Momma’s taking you out to stretch your legs. Just be nice and promise not to break down on me in the middle of the road,” I beg as I put it into drive and pull out onto the street.
Less than ten minutes later I’m punching the button on the automated machine outside the parking garage and taking my ticket. My underinflated tires squeal with every turn through the garage, calling unwanted attention. I bite down on my bottom lip as I drive past all the Mercedes, BMW, and Bentley owners and take the last turn up the ramp leading to the roof. There are only a few spots left up here and I take the one closest to the door leading back down to the lower levels.
As I leave my car behind and walk down the enclosed staircase, I make a mental note to continue taking cabs. Clearly my car hates me—I was crossing my fingers I would even make it here, but then to compare my rust bucket with all the flashy, shiny new cars...it might sound shallow, but I’d rather save myself the embarrassment. Besides, the cab fare and the fee I’m going to have to pay at the end of the day for using the garage will more than likely even out. I’m not really losing anything. Rather, I’m preserving my dignity.
When I reach the lobby on the main level, I hurry across the reflective white and black marble floor and press the call button for the elevator. A familiar face greets me with unwavering, hate-filled eyes as I step into the first one to arrive.
Great, the last person I want to see first thing in the morning—Jenna. Pasting on a pleasant smile, I tell her, “Good morning.”
Turning her chin up, she blatantly ignores me, which is fine. I didn’t figure we were friends anyway. I did, however, expect some type of professionalism, especially since we have to work in such close proximity with each other.
As we ride up to our floor in silence, I wonder to myself if I should apologize for the photographer. I know I’m in the right and that having one come on board was in the best interest of everyone involved, but it’s obvious that she doesn’t see it the same way. And with the way she’s acting now, I doubt she’s in the mood to hear anything that comes out of my mouth anyway. So I decide to save myself the trouble and keep my thoughts and words private.
Just before we reach our stop, Jenna breaks the silence. “I heard what Miss Townsend said to you the other day after everyone left. Well, almost everyone,” she amends with a self-satisfied smile. Something inside me twists at that look, instinct telling me that whatever she is about to say is going to have a negative impact on me. Maybe others, too.
“I know what you’ve been doing. I know you’ve been sleeping with Mr. Scott,” she accuses, her back still facing me. “That’s how you got him to agree to the photographer, isn’t it? I knew it was too much of a coincidence for him to come up with the same idea as you without someone tipping him off. So what did you do? Tattle on me while you were busy sucking his dick?”
My face floods with heat, but not from humiliation, which I’m sure is her goal by telling me all of this. No, all I feel is utter outrage. How dare she stick her nose in where it doesn’t belong, and how dare she try to judge me or anything that I do when she’s the one cutting corners and acting out of pettiness.
“Well, that’d be kind of difficult, don’t you think?” I say smartly. “I mean, it’s pretty hard to talk with your mouth full.”
“Spoken like someone who knows firsthand,” she volleys back.
“Look, Jenna. Just because you’ve grown complacent and don’t want to do your job, doesn’t mean you have to make mine more difficult. We’re here to provide a service, and I don’t know about you, but I take pride in my work. I know you’re upset about being pulled away from your projects, but you’re not the only one, so why don’t you pull your head out of your ass and just do the best you can do for the client because you’re not the only one with their ass on the line here.”
“You’re right. I’m sure sleeping with the boss, you have a lot more to lose than me,” she snarls just as the doors open on our floor.
“If you don’t step up your game and start doing your job, then you’re the only one who’s going to lose something,” I tell her as she walks off.
Turning, she meets my eyes for the first time and with a smug look on her face, says, “At least I don’t have to sleep my way to the top.” At that, she storms off toward our office.
If her goal was to ruin me, then she’s achieved it. There are easily a dozen people in the room, including Darren, who’s standing stock still, a look of shock and horror frozen on his face.
He looks like how I feel.
I haven’t had this many sets of eyes on me since I was up on stage in my underwear. Then I felt powerful, in control. Now...a crushing numbness is spreading through my limbs, and my chest feels like it’s going to cave in at any second. Normally, my thoughts would be spinning out of control, but right now they’re curiously silent.
“Come on, sweetie. Let’s go someplace private.” I hear Darren’s voice, feel his warm hands on my shoulders as he steers me away, but I can’t find the words or the strength to form a response.
I’m ushered into a room with a long wooden table surrounded by chairs that overlooks the cityscape. It’s bright and cheerful—everything I’m not. One of the chairs is pulled out and then the room is changing direction, the city falling in behind me as I’m pushed down until the cool plastic meets the backs of my legs.
Darren’s concerned face comes into focus as he crouches down in front of me. “You’re white as a sheet and trembling like a leaf,” he says softly and begins rubbing my arms vigorously. “I can’t believe that bitch did that to you in front of everyone.”
I can’t either. Well, I guess I can. How better to get your revenge on someone than to air their dirty laundry as publicly as possible?
“Are you going to be okay? Because you’re kind of worrying me right now, and I feel like I should be doing something. Do you want me to call Mr. Scott for you?”
Slowly, I shake my head. I don’t want Rebel here. It would just compound the situation. It’s bad enough that Darren has to see me like this, at my most vulnerable. I’d hate it if Rebel were to witness this. I want to be the strong, independent woman that he deserves. Hell, I want to be that woman for me. Weak is something that I’ve worked hard all my life not to be. I’ll be damned if one person ruins that. I might bend, but I can’t be broken that easily.
Something inside of me takes over, an inner strength that refuses to be pushed down, and I shove to my feet. Startled, Darren jumps up, too. He watches me, unsure of what to make of the sudden change.
“I’m going to need the number for the photographer Mr. Scott hired. Could you call up to his assistant, Tracy, and get the information, then forward it to my email?” I head for the door with Darren following right beside me. “Also, I’m leaving for the day. If anyone calls for me, just tell them I’m out sick.”
“Okay, got it. What if Mr. Scott calls for you? What should I tell him?”
“He won’t. He’s out for the day as well.”
“You’re not going to do something stupid, are you? To get back at Jenna?” Darren asks, his mouth pinching with worry.
Ignoring curious looks as I reach the elevator, I punch the down button with my thumb. Twice. “Even better,” I say with deadly calm that reaches every cell in my body. It’s a peaceful yet eager kind of feeling that thrums with energy just beneath the surface of my skin. When the doors open, I step inside, turning to face Darren. With a determined smile tugging at my lips, I tell him, “I’m going to do my job.”
As the doors begin sliding closed, Darren grins. He knows just like I do that the best line of defense is a good offense. Jenna is so busy looking for the easy play that she never saw me coming. Bitch is about to get her ass mowed down on the one-yard line.