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Eric lowers his voice, though his stern expression remains the same. “What are you doing, Jude?”
I’m surprised I’m Jude again. “I’m having a Coke, a Coke Zero, because it has fewer calories.”
He’s exasperated by my response and my snappiness.
“Why are you constantly making me angry?” he asks, which disconcerts me.
“I’m ...?” I ask, whispering too. “You’re something else ...”
His gaze is tense. Hard and defiant.
“Let’s go back to the table,” he says, turning around.
When Santiago and I had arrived at the restaurant, we picked spots at the other end of the table, and I head back there. The food is exquisite, and I continue chatting with my friend. I take a glimpse at my boss a few times and see him smiling at Amanda. My rage swells again. And when our eyes meet, I’m practically on fire.
At four thirty, we go back to the office. Of course, I ride with Santiago in his car. The meeting picks back up and doesn’t end until seven. I’m so tired of this.
21
At the end of the workday, Amanda, Eric, and I go out to the waiting limo together, but I don’t give him a chance to humiliate me again—of my own volition, I take a seat up front with the driver.
I can hear them. In fact, I can hear Amanda giggling and laughing up a storm. I keep waiting for the divider to separate us, but this time, Eric doesn’t close off the backseat. He wants me to hear everything they’re saying. He’s speaking in German, and just hearing him sets me off.
When we arrive at the hotel, I open my door and step out. I want more than anything in the world to get away from Eric and his companion, but instead, I wait courteously for them to emerge from the limo. When they do, I say good night and take my leave.
I practically run to the elevator. When the doors close, I let out a long sigh of relief. The day has been horrible, and I want to disappear. As soon as I open the door to my suite, I toss my briefcase on the beautiful couch. I turn on some music. I let my hair down, take off my jacket, and untuck my shirt. I need a shower.
Then I hear a series of knocks on the door. I sense it’s him. I decide to ignore the rapping, but the knocks are insistent. I’m so tired. But I’m stunned when I give in and see it’s Amanda at my door.
“May I come in?” she asks me in German.
“Of course, Miss Fisher,” I say, also in German.
She enters. I close the door and turn to her.
“Are you going to stay the weekend, like you did in Barcelona?” she asks before I have a chance to say anything.
I do what Eric does sometimes. I twist my face in thought.
“Yes,” I finally say.
My answer annoys her. She runs her hand through her hair and puts her hands on her hips.
“If your intention is to be with him, forget it. He will be with me.”
“What are you talking about, Miss Fisher?”
“You and I both know very well what I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb. You’re not some poor Spanish girl who thinks she’s hit the mother lode with Eric, are you?”
I’m taken aback by that. I blink, and then I let loose with everything that’s been burning inside me.
“Listen, girlee, you’ve made a big mistake with me. And if you keep it up, you’re going to have a big problem, because I’m not the type who keeps quiet or gets scared away. So be careful what you say, because you don’t want this poor Spanish girl to beat the crap out of you.”
Amanda takes a step back. Apparently, I sound pretty threatening.
“I think the smartest thing you could do is to stay away from him,” she says. “I’ll take care of whatever he needs. I know him, and I know how to quench his desires.”
I clench my fists so hard that my nails puncture skin. But I’m well aware I can’t act out my emotions. I count to twenty, because ten isn’t nearly enough, and walk over to the door and open it.