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She strode inside and I noticed the white skirt that hugged her curves and matched her blazer. She looked incredible. It turned me on and pissed me off at the same time because I couldn’t have her.
“I have that document you asked for me to get signed,” she said, holding up a paper.
I looked at her for a moment as I tried to figure out what she was talking about. There had been so many that I had made up over the past few days that it was hard to narrow down which one she was talking about.
She raised an eyebrow as she watched me rack my brain. Was that a little attitude I sensed?
Then it clicked into place. I had sent her on a wild goose chase yesterday, making her go across town to a made-up client to get a bogus signature. I would have an attitude too. Yet, here she stood with what looked to be a signed document in her hand.
“Oh, yes. Thank you,” I said, waving her over.
She handed me the document and I looked it over as if it had any meaning to me. I felt her eyes on me, probably trying to catch me in a lie, but I did my best to ignore her. I wondered how she had completed this made-up task, but assumed she had just signed it herself.
“Everything looks in order here,” I said as I stacked the paper against my desk and set it into a pile of paperwork. “I will email you a list of things I need you to get done by the end of day.”
She nodded and turned toward the door, balancing perfectly in a pair of nude pumps. My eyes instinctively fell to her backside as she walked the short distance to her desk, only tearing them away as she turned and sat down in her chair.
I spent the next fifteen minutes coming up with tasks that would fill Monica’s day, but were also so mindlessly boring that I wouldn’t be surprised if she quit. I came up with picking up my suits from the dry cleaner, buying a made up birthday gift for my mother when it wasn’t even her birthday, going to the bookstore to find a book by an author that didn’t exist. Really anything to keep her out of the office.
And I knew she would do it. In just three days, she had proven to be the best assistant I had ever had, and that wasn’t just because she was the best sex I had ever had. She was a hard worker who showed up early and left late, and did everything I asked of her, even if some of it was impossible.
I hit thesendbutton on my email and heard the notification bell ding from her computer. I watched as she opened the email and read through her menial tasks for the day. She seemed to sigh as she stood up and grabbed her purse from the back of her chair, ready to take on whatever I had thrown at her.
A big part of me felt bad. I knew I couldn’t do this to her forever. She deserved better. And she had gotten enough of my dry cleaning done where I would be stocked for an entire year. It was time we started working side by side. Just not today. We would start on Monday. I would have all weekend to steel myself for it.
Chapter 11
Monica
The front desk attendant at Troy’s apartment gave me a knowing look as I carried up yet another dry cleaning bag full of fresh suits. I wondered how many suits one man needed as I heaved the bag onto the counter. This had been my fifth time to the dry cleaner this week and my fifth time in his apartment lobby with this same attendant.
“Another delivery for Mr. Gunner,” I said with a tight-lipped smile.
“At this point, you should just move in,” she said.
I didn’t know why that made me blush, but it made me think of his apartment and how much of it I hadn’t explored. And the places he had explored me in it.
“Thank you,” I said with a nod before turning to the door.
I glanced at the time on my phone. It was 5 p.m. That was my last errand of the day. I had timed all of his tasks perfectly, so I could get off at a decent time and start the weekend. I had been looking forward to the weekend since I had started the job. Not because I didn’t enjoy it. Despite having such menial tasks to do, I actually liked the job. Apart from the fact I went all over Manhattan yesterday trying to find a client with a generic name that ended up not even existing. By the end of the day and many cab fares later, I said ‘screw it’ and signed the damn paper myself. I knew he had put me up to an impossible task, most likely to avoid me. So I didn’t feel bad when I forged a signature for an imaginary George Smith.
Besides yesterday, the tasks and to-do lists he set out for me were easy. Sure, it meant a lot of trips to the dry cleaner, but it wasn’t mentally taxing. What was, was trying to avoid Troy. That part was mentally exhausting, especially when he was all I could really think about. It was like I was fighting finding ways to be next to him, and exploring new ways of avoiding him all at the same time.
Now I had the weekend away from the office and him. I wouldn’t have to be so on my toes or comparing calendars or looking around the corners of the office, making sure I didn’t spend more time than I needed to with him. Which had been next to none. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly disappointed by that.
I pushed open the large glass doors of his apartment building, the same ones I had slipped out of that early morning just a few days ago. Somehow, it felt like a lifetime ago. I felt like I could breathe again out on the sidewalk as the sun began to dip below the buildings, casting a shimmering reflection over the streets. Just being in his building was stifling. Knowing he spent his time off work up on the top floor. Eating. Sleeping. Fucking.
I glanced around to make sure he wasn’t ambling up the sidewalk and quickly hailed a cab. I didn’t want to risk any more time there than I needed to.
The ride to Queens was longer than usual and by the time I got home, I was ready to take a long soak in a bubbly bath with a glass of wine. Which was exactly what I did. After I had rinsed the lavender bubbles from my skin and finished the last sip of cabernet that pooled at the bottom of my glass, I slipped on an oversized Mets shirt and grabbed a stack of takeout menus from the drawer. I perused through them and finally decided on Grand Sichuan. I called and placed an order to be delivered.
While I waited, I turned on the TV and settled in on the couch with a freshly poured glass of wine. I flipped through the channels and landed on the nightly news. Not my first choice, but there was nothing else on. I mindlessly scrolled through my phone and half listened to what the newscasters were saying. It was nights like these where I missed living with Heart. It was nice to have the company, even when Bridgette came along and woke us up every two hours in that tiny loft. I had loved every short minute of it. I knew it couldn’t last forever, and was so happy when Daniel asked her to move in with him. She had her happy ending. At least one of us did.
“Bryson Gunner will be holding a press conference in regards to new shareholders at his company…” My ears perked up at the name and my eyes shot to the TV.
There were photos of Troy’s father on the screen, followed by one of him and Troy at a recent charity event. I sucked in a slow breath as my eyes took in the details of Troy’s tight-lipped smile, his folded hands, his serious green eyes. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of happiness in him in the photo, and a small feeling of sadness formed a lump in my throat. I quickly changed the channel.
I couldn’t escape him.