Page 15 of Hunted by Them (Primal Desires #1)

“I was lost in the forest with no cell service.” Even to my ears, it sounded like an excuse for not having done my work. “Did you not see it on the news? There was a storm and?—”

“I don’t care about the storm. You have dates that need to be met, and you shouldn’t have gone anywhere, forest or otherwise, without completing the biggest marketing proposal of the year,” Margaret declared, like we were never allowed to have lives.

“Out-of-office messages exist. It reflects poorly on the team when one of us simply vanishes.”

My mouth fell open. That didn’t even make sense.

“I didn’t simply vanish. There were rangers and police and…”

I stopped, because explaining survival to a woman who weaponized Outlook felt deranged.

She narrowed her eyes. “Is this about the promotion? Because if you are pulling some stunt to garner sympathy, it’s not going to change the decision. You didn’t get the job because you’re simply not as good as Todd. This little…episode—doesn’t help your case.”

I was dying to ask what Todd was better at, because I had a pretty good idea. It had nothing to do with his marketing proposal.

The laughter that bubbled up this time tasted like bitter ash on my tongue.

“Right…okay then,” I snapped, not giving a crap if I sounded rude. “Noted, Margaret. Can I go?”

She glared, but I was beyond caring. It was clear that I needed to leave this job.

Margaret huffed and sat down, organizing the folders on her desk like she actually worked.

“Will you be working today, or are you going to disappear again? We have a 10 a.m. with the Baker Corporation, and your projections summary is?—”

“I’ll have it,” I said, cutting her off.

“Fine.” She waved her hand as if giving me a papal blessing and turned to her screen. “Close the door on your way out.”

I walked out fuming and muttering all the way to my cubicle.

The monitor sat black and silent, the keyboard waited, and the plant in the corner was drooping.

Opening my water bottle, I poured half of it onto my little plant that had been a five-year gift from the company.

A plant…they got me a plant. No bonus, no trip, no watch, not even my own office, despite being the most productive project manager they had.

All I warranted was a ten-inch bit of greenery.

Mind you, I kind of loved Ferny. She never talked back or said anything stupid to piss me off.

I sat down, opened my laptop, and pulled up the Baker folder. Words swam for a moment, then resolved into tasks, bullet points, and deadlines. My fingers moved. The part of me that had been built for this life focused in and worked.

An hour later, my brain buzzed like a trapped fly, and my bladder announced itself. I stood, stretched, and headed for the bathroom while I tried to decide if I should have vanilla or caramel in my second coffee of the day.

When I walked into the fancy bathroom, Mary, Margaret’s assistant, was at the sink. She was dabbing mascara streaks off her cheeks with a rough paper towel that just made everything worse. She froze when she saw me in the mirror and tried to smile like she hadn’t been crying.

“Oh,” she said, voice strained. “Sorry. My contacts are?—”

“I know that lie.” I walked into one of the stalls, grabbed a wad of toilet paper, dampened it with warm water, and handed it to her.

“Here. It’s softer. Do you want to tell me what is really going on, or do you just want me to stand here until the tears stop?

I make a great bathroom wing woman,” I offered with a little smile.

Mary was a sweet soul, too sweet to work here for the Cruella wannabe.

“She…” Mary bit her lip hard enough to leave a dent.

“Margaret told me that I screwed up her calendar and she missed a meeting. But I didn’t.

She told me the meeting was next week. When I reminded her, she said to stop being so juvenile.

Then she said that she already had to put up with my tardiness, the fact that her tea is always cold, and that my tone with vendors is too friendly.

Then…” Mary started to cry all over again, her lower lip trembling as she fought off the emotion.

“Then she said that if I want to be taken seriously, I should stop wearing pink because it makes me look ancient.”

She tugged at the pretty pink cardigan and then stared at herself in the mirror.

Mary wasn’t old, and she looked great, but I knew she had been suffering with low self-esteem ever since her husband had taken off last year.

Margaret knew that, too, which made her an even worse human than I originally thought.

“She also said that maybe it would be wise for me to consider other opportunities if I can’t hack it.” She covered her mouth. “No one will want to hire a forty-two-year-old with a bad recommendation and a high school diploma. I can’t afford to lose this job.”

Stepping forward, I grabbed Mary and pulled her into a hug. “Margaret is…” I hunted for a word that wasn’t a lawsuit waiting to happen. “A lot, but it’s all bull. You do a great job, and everyone knows this office would fall apart without you.”

Mary sniffed but smiled. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do. I have eyes, and so does everyone else. Trust me, we all know how great you are. She would be a fool to let you go.”

“Thanks, Sage.” Stepping back, Mary blew her Rudolph-red nose. “Margaret said you ghosted the team because they gave Todd the promotion. She claimed you went off to find yourself. I told her that people don’t usually do that by getting lost in a national park.”

“I will never let her and my mother be in the same room. My mom seems to think I’m incompetent and shouldn’t go anywhere alone.” I surprised myself by not sounding embarrassed.

“No, definitely don’t, that sounds like a bad combo,” Mary chuckled, washing her hands.

“Listen, Mary, keep your head up. You’re doing a great job. It’s not about you. It’s her own insecurities. She also really likes to hear herself talk. And if pink makes you feel beautiful in this anthill, wear pink. Hell, wear fuchsia. Blind her.”

Mary laughed for real this time, a wet hiccup. “You’re going to get me fired.”

“If she fires you over a color, I’ll lead a march through HR.

Hell, I’ll lead one down the road and tell every company we pass how lucky they would be to hire you.

In fact, if you decide to leave, I’ll write you a recommendation, and mine…

it will be glowing.” I straightened her blouse collar.

“Breathe, drink some water, and then pretend her voice is a radio station you can turn down.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’re back, Sage. You make this place bearable.”

“Me too.” But I only meant it so I could be here for this exact moment with her. This was not my first bathroom, lunchroom, or parking lot consolation session, and it wouldn’t be my last.

When I returned to my desk, a vase of flowers sat smack in the middle. Tall, long-stem roses. Red, expensive, and I knew exactly who they were from. A tiny, white apology card was perched in the greenery, and I glared at it before tugging it free.

Saw the news. Couldn’t sleep knowing you were lost in that forest all alone. Thank God you’re safe. Dinner? C

I groaned. I could hear his voice in the punctuation. Earnest as ever, self-satisfied, the same kind of manipulative tone that had once seemed harmless. Connor always did love being the good guy in the public eye.

Tossing the card into the garbage, I picked up the vase and marched to Mary’s desk. She hadn’t returned from the bathroom, which was perfect. I set them in front of her computer and walked away. If anyone in this place needed flowers to brighten their day, it was Mary.

Back at my desk, the air felt stale. My inbox contained a dozen new demands. Margaret pinged me on chat to ask if the Baker’s doc was usable. That made me roll my eyes. A meeting reminder flashed. I stared at the screen until the letters lost their edges.

Sighing, I put the final touches on the Baker file and emailed it to her. All I got back was a single word.

Thanks.

Annoyed, I clicked out of everything, opened an incognito tab, ordered food from my favorite Thai place without thinking, and started shutting down.

I told myself I’d circle back in an hour.

I told myself I’d file something from home.

I told myself lies that sounded responsible, but in reality…

screw it. Screw this job, Margaret, and Todd.

Screw being used to further someone else’s career.

It was time that I started looking for a new job, one that made me happy.

I slipped my bag over my shoulder, grabbed my keys, and walked past Margaret’s glass box. The elevator arrived, and with each floor down, I felt a little lighter. Outside, the sun had climbed high enough to feel like a warm bath, and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

In the car, I pulled up the takeout confirmation and sailed out of the parking lot singing to the song on the radio.

The city moved around me like it always had, but I didn’t feel like I belonged. I was a ghost here now.

What a change a week made.

Reaching the Thai restaurant, I pulled through the drive-thru and picked up my food. It smelled incredible. I pictured a hot shower, curling up on the couch to watch a movie and eat my food, forgetting about everything else for a minute.

When I let myself into the apartment, I took a moment and tried to imagine myself happy in here again. Setting my bag down on the console table, I knew I already had the answer.

Not happening.

This had been my safe place once. Now it felt like a shell someone had vacated and left for me to inhabit.

I toed off my shoes and wandered to the window. The street below glittered ordinary. My phone buzzed, breaking my statue pose. I groaned as soon as I picked it up and saw the messages.

Mom: How are you? Did you make a doctor appt? You better have. I have a friend, and her son is a therapist. Maybe I could get you an appointment with him. He’s only like two hours away. Love you.

Connor: Dinner tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven. We should talk.

Margaret: Call me. Urgent.

I quickly fired back a text to each of them before shutting the phone off and putting it face down. The silence that followed was heavy.

Thunder rolled through my memory. Not the sound, but the sensation.

A promise that was more than a noise. My skin prickled, and my mouth went dry.

I closed my eyes, and for a second, I smelled wet pine and smoke.

I felt the heat of fingers around my throat.

I slipped my hand into my blouse and traced the lines that spelled MINE and sighed.

Opening my eyes, nothing had changed, and I was overcome with longing.

“Get a grip,” I told the empty room, and marched into the bedroom to change into comfy clothes. “Get a fucking grip.”