“The meetings are about to begin, sir. Marty sent me to ask if you'll be joining.”
“You could have called...” I trailed, confused. She didn't have to hike all the way over in heels. Better yet, Marty could have called me or walked over his damn self, not sent someone over like a retriever.
Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “I did, sir. You didn't answer.”
I stepped back over to my desk, and sure enough, my desk phone was blinking with missed calls. “Crap. I must have turned my ringer off.”
My shoulders sagged in relief. She also couldn't have been messaging me if she was calling.
“It's okay, sir.” She looked down at the floor, still well into the hallway, refusing to look my way. “We're in the main conference room if you'd like to join us.”
I let out an involuntary scoff and eye roll, unable to contain either. “The training isn't for me.”
“Oh. Okay.” She paled, swallowed hard, and turned to flee.
A wave of regret swept over me, realizing that she thought she was the intended target of my disgust. “Elena?”
“Yes, sir?” she asked, frozen, her arms crossed defensively.
“Step into my office, please. Sit down. I want to talk.”
She reddened all the more but obeyed, scampering over and sitting down in one of the worn chairs before my desk. Her light fragrance danced around the room, coconut yet again, her preferred scent of the day. Her body was rigid, taut with tension as if I could pounce at any moment. I could, and I had before, as much as I hated to admit it.
It was enough to form a knot in my chest, memories of being a scared kid rushing all back at once. No one should have to live in fear, especially at work.
I sat down, the rolling chair shrieking again, causing her to flinch.
Her eyes fixated on the large crack in my desk, the catalog used to hide it brushed to the side. My hand still hurt from punching the goddamn thing.
“I'm sorry that I've been so short with you.”
She remained silent, still focused on the large crack, the unmistakable mark of a fist in its center.
I slid the shielding catalog back in place, but she still didn't meet my gaze. “It's not your fault. It has nothing to do with you, honestly. I'm sorry.”
She nodded but stayed quiet.
“In all honesty, I've been a complete asshole, and I owe you a thousand apologies.”
She looked up, a tiny smile touching her lips, the sight releasing the knot in my chest. “And here I thought you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I admitted. “You're a great employee. I appreciate you, even if they don't out there.”
Her shoulders relaxed, arms falling to her sides. “Thank you, sir.”
“Anytime.” I took another deep breath, her relief echoed within me. “And I want you to go home on time. You and Lee.” I more than appreciated them working late, but it wasn't fixing the root issue.
Marty would have to figure out what to do with Monica in the meantime. I wanted to fire her outright, but I'd have to work on documenting her failures. I didn't doubt for a second she'd throw a fit and threaten legal action if she was terminated. I needed to have ammunition for that battle when it came.
“You work too hard for a group that doesn't do their part,” I continued. “I won't have that as long as I'm here. You both belong at home with your families.”
I was revealing too much, but sometimes the truth was a necessary evil.
She nodded but still seemed uncomfortable, her chocolate eyes darting everywhere. “Yes, sir.”
“Do me a favor and ask Marty to call me.”
I needed to have a little word with Mr. Marty Radwell.
“Absolutely, sir.” She stood quickly, hurrying to get away.
Despite our little breakthrough, I still scared her, and it gutted me. I didn't want any woman to be afraid of me.
“Elena?” I called, making her freeze in her tracks as she hit the doorway, teetering in her heels at the sudden stop.
“Yes, sir?” she asked, tucking a stray lock behind her ear.
“Stop fucking calling me sir.”
She giggled, just as she did with Lee each time I saw them together. “Sure, s-err I mean Mr. Barrett.”
I frowned. “No, that makes me sound old. Call me Jason.”
Mr. Barrett was my sperm donor, the womanizing asshole that left my brothers and me high and dry. I was never Mr. Barrett and never would be.
She giggled again, shaking her head and flushing pink head to toe. “Okay.”
“Have a good day, Elena.”
“You too, Jason.”
Elena
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
The squeal of the shopping cart wheel was horrendous, but I wasn't about to hike it across the store in search of a new one. It was a long day of training sessions and team-building activities. I'd suffer through the high-pitched shrill if it meant my feet would be up sooner rather than later.
Too much small talk in the Croft lobby with some out-of-town visitors annihilated my feet. They were a flirty bunch, not so subtly inviting me to dinner and drinks. I rebuffed the offers politely, but Monica had taken them up. I secretly hoped one of them would take her to bed so she'd get fired or at least be in a better mood the next day.
It wasn’t like they weren’t cute. I just wasn’t interested in them or the risk. A certain Bear had my undivided attention.
All hints of grace were gone as I lumbered on like Godzilla invading Tokyo, feet crying out with each step. I hobbled along, mentally cursing whatever sick son of a bitch invented heels. I also hated myself for not wearing flats when I damn well knew I had to run to the store after work.
I put off the trip for as long as possible, but I was out of laundry soap and clean undies, so it was now or never. I wasn't about to free muffin it in a dress in
