…his voice.
“Get down on your knees.”
I have to close my eyes and draw a deep breath as the wonder of that past moment washes over me like a wave.
The heat burning inside me grows. I want to rush to the couch and grab my cell, call Blake and tell him to come over here immediately.
As his boss, I should have the power to do that. But as Blake told me last night,“That’s not how this works.”
He explained that our…relationship works on his schedule. I don’t call him; he calls me. I don’t make the rules; he does.
And you know what? He’s right.
Our whole thing only works if he’s the one in control. I can’t dictate anything or the foundation collapses out from under us.
Smiling to myself, I take my tea back into the living room, and I’m about to sit down when I hear something at the door.
I already got the mail today. Maybe someone sent me a package for Christmas?
Unlikely, but I get up to check anyway.
There’s a card on the floor. Looks like somebody slid it under the door. It’s red, but not Christmas red, almost a threatening blood red.
I step over it and open the door, glancing outside to see who may have dropped it off. But all I see are random New Yorkers going about their business.
“Hmm…”
I step back inside and eye the envelope with suspicion. Who would be dropping something off like this for me?
Blake would be the only one, but I can’t picture him doing something like this. No, he would knock on the door, storm inside, and tell me to stand in the corner while he spanked me.
And I would be dripping…
Finally, after a minute of debate, I reach down and pick up the envelope.
My name has been printed on the front by what looks like an old-fashioned typewriter.That’s an odd way to address something these days.
Aside from that, there’s nothing else indicating who this might be from. Part of me doesn’t want to open it.
This situation is odd, and you don’t get to where I am today without listening to your gut. And right now my gut is telling me to wait and give this to my lawyer to open.
Maybe it’s the fire inside me, or maybe it’s the Christmas spirit that’s telling me to calm down, but I go ahead and open the envelope.
And drop it instantly.
My heart skips, and my breath catches in my throat. I yelp like I’ve just touched a hot pan on the stove and cover my mouth with my hand.
No…it can’t be…
There, lying on the floor, is a photo of me…in my office…legs spread…with Blake’s head between them…
Panic. That’s all I can feel. Pure, unadulterated panic running through me.
I’ve dealt with terrible situations before running my company. Betrayal, lies, spying, but it’s always been about business. Never personal.
Not like this.
I’m trembling as I reach down and pull the photo all the way out. A piece of paper comes with it.
