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I’m holding my breath, counting each blink. Only two more floors and I’m free. I can panic and fall apart anywhere except in his presence. If he could just stand there staying quiet like that, I might actually be okay…If only.
“Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” he says, as if dead set on my sabotage. “Last time I saw you, you almost got me expelled. But it’s been years. We’re cool now, right?”
My jaw doesn’tdrop. It unhinges and falls off. That’s his narrative?Iwrongedhim? I almost got him expelled?
He thinks we’recool?
The elevator dings louder than I swear it ever has, and the doors peel apart. Casey steps backward, holding out his hand, gesturing me forward. He ducks his head like a nobleman. “Ladies first, of course.”
I try to exit, but my legs are frozen, outside of the trembling. The memories flash before me in the worst montage of my life. The jeers, the moos, the humiliation when the dean asked me if I knew how inappropriate it was to be sending boys naked pictures. The shock when people were more concerned about whether Casey could start the football season if I accusedhim of something. He hurt me, and public opinion chose the quarterback superstar. No one cared about the pudgy, vulnerable freshman who was borderline suicidal. I hung my head in shame as if it were my fault Casey violated what I thought was private intimacy.
I never felt safe with a man again. He tainted my relationship with sex. He stole my innocence in so many more ways than he could fathom. Desperate, I call on my mom to hold me steady.Mama, don’t let me cry. Please, don’t let me cry in front of him.
With a steadying breath, I will my feet forward. Tilting my chin up, I hold my head high, even though it feels awkward and forced. There are so many things I want to say to him. I should yell but the right words escape me. Glancing at his outreached hand, I’m transported right back to the worst moments of my life.
“You don’t need to pretend to be a gentleman,” I say in a hushed tone, more for my sake than his. “I know exactly what you are.”
I walk away, not allowing myself to run. One step at a time, I put as much distance between me and Casey as I can. But with him in this office, it’s not possible. There could be an entire ocean separating us, and it still wouldn’t be enough space to put me at ease.
“We’d have to order the chloroform in small batches, collecting for a while,” Dawn says nonchalantly as I blink at her in horror. Her sinister side is showing. “If we order a big vat, it’ll raise suspicion.”
“Dawn, we’re not killing him.”
She holds up her finger. “Another idea. We get him belligerently drunk, take him to the zoo, and give him a friendly hip nudge right over the fence into the alligator enclosure.”
I tilt my head. “Those alligators are drugged. They have no appetite. And even if they did, Casey tastes repulsive.”
Dawn cringes. “Speaking from experience?”
No.Judging by the look she’s wearing, I know what part she’s referring to. I actually never put Casey’s dick in my mouth. It was my first time. I didn’t know what to do. “I’m assuming deceitful weasel leaves a bitter aftertaste.”
“Want me to go with you when you tell Nathan?” She finishes her salad, dropping her fork triumphantly into the empty plastic container. “I was starving.” She pushes back from her desk, holding her hands to her flat stomach.
I poke at my Baja chicken salad with black beans, dried jalapeño peppers, and chipotle-ranch dressing. Normally, I’d dive in headfirst. I love when yummy foods hide themselves in salad. The chunks of cotija cheese should be more than enough to beckon my appetite, but nothing. I’m not sure if I’m still sick or if seeing Casey really shook me that bad.
“I’m not telling Nathan.”
“Casey makes you very uncomfortable. He can’t work here around you. If you’re worried about who Nathan will choose?—”
“I’m not.” I meet her gaze, trying to stick the landing on my lie. Casey is a project manager helping with a billion-dollar new-build venture. I don’t have that kind of experience. I’m replaceable. But hearing Nathan say that would break me, so I’m not going to give him the opportunity. “I contacted my old boss, Hank. He’s using a temp assistant right now and would love to have me back.”
Dawn frowns. “You’re moving back to Miami?”
“I think it’s best.”
“For who?” she challenges. Sometimes I forget Dawn’s a mom and her bullshit-o-meter is fully calibrated. “You can’t mean Charlie because she has a best friend here, her grades are good, she likes school, and the girl is nonstop smiling. I know you can’t mean Nathan, because whether or not either of you wants to admit it, he’s far less of a brute with you around. And I know you can’t mean me, Chelsea, and your other friends who treasure the moments we get to spend with you.”
My lips flatten into a straight line. “You’re guilt-tripping me?”
“I’m trying to get you to face your trauma. I don’t want Casey to take anything more from you. If your mom were here, I bet you anything she’d tell you to stand your ground. You’re strong enough now and you’re not alone.”
“Dawn, it’s too late. I already quit.” In a fit of emotion, I emailed Nathan this morning and gave him my two weeks’ notice. I haven’t gotten any real work done this morning. I missed four days. I should’ve been catching up on emails and tasks, but instead, I was scouring my employment contract trying to figure out when I need to surrender my SUV and how much of my advance I’ll need to return.
Dawn’s desk phone rings. A disappointed stare locked on me, she reaches for the receiver, pressing the speaker button with her pinky. “Office of James Hatcher. This is Dawn.”
“Is Spencer with you?” Speak of the devil. Nathan sounds positively pissed.
Pausing, Dawn raises her brows at me, asking for permission to out me. I nod.