I say, “You’re doing fine. Really good actually. I just … want to make sure you’re happy. With your … role.”
“I am.” He smiles, but I don’t believe it. He’s acting now too.
“Okay,” I say because that’s my line. “Goodnight, Elias.”
“Goodnight, Andre.”
SEVENTEEN
Elias
Andre is quiet today. He’s often quiet. He works hard. But today’s quiet feels different. Or maybe it’s me? I’m quiet too. I’m still … I’m not sure. Embarrassed? I mean, yes, definitely, but I realized as I was lying on my couch for hours that what was really bothering me was that something is off. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.
I don’t even know if it’s my stalker or Andre. There’s a weird tension between them.
My stalker keeps needling me about Andre, and I don’t know why. To fuck with me? To test me? Does it mean that he likes Andre or that he hates him?
And Andre … he’s complicated. On the surface, he’s not. He’s everything you would expect: rich, smart, cultured, a bit arrogant, very dominant. But sometimes it feels like … a mask—and I don’t know what’s beneath it.
Sometimes, I almost feel like he’s playing a game with me. Despite his justifications for hiring me, it doesn’t really make sense. And he’s so hot and cold, sometimes crowding into my physical and mental space, sometimes so distant that I almost feel … invisible.
I know that I’m needy. I know that I’m making something about me when it’s not. The feeling of being invisible isn’t actually coming from Andre. It’s inside me. I know that. Even the tension that I feel between him and my stalker is all in my head because the only thing between them is me, and Andre doesn’t even know about it.
God, my head’s a mess. I was so sure I was onto something, that something was indeed off, but now I’ve just talked myself around to seeing that I’m imagining it.
Maybe I’m even imagining Andre’s masking, or at least blowing it out of proportion. I mean, it’s not unusual. We all do it to a certain extent.Ido it.
I hide my fantasies, all the fear and violence that I crave.
I’ve hidden my past with lies and false documents.
I’ve hidden the fact that I’ve done work like this before. It’s one of the reasons that I took this job. I knew I could do it. Some of it’s been new to me and some of it’s hard for me, like the phone calls, but mostly I’ve been pretending to learn while what I’ve actually been doing is dusting off old skills.
So I’m probably just projecting.
Andre is a normal person. Intense and dominant, yes, but normal. I’m the one who’s fucked up—because only a fucked-up person would be disappointed to realize that the man they’re desperately attracted to is normal.
I force myself to focus on the slew of very normal emails in Andre’s business account.
When the landline rings, I answer it. “Andre’s Black’s office, Elias speaking.”
“Elias, it’s Jeremy at the front desk. I need to talk to Andre.”
“Andre?” I say, holding out the phone. Those gorgeous blue eyes flick to me. “It’s Jeremy.”
Andre takes the phone from me and says, “Yeah, Jeremy.” Anger flashes through his eyes as he listens. He replies tightly, “I’ll deal with it.”
He hangs up the phone and stands from his chair. I want to ask him if everything’s okay, but it’s obviously not, so instead I ask, “Do you need me?”
Andre looks at me almost like he’s surprised to see me there. I cringe at that, but then he says, “Yes. I mean no. Stay here.”
“What’s going on?”
“Just … someone who shouldn’t be here. I’ll deal with it.”
That’s what he said to Jeremy, but this time I see past his anger to something else. I’m not sure what, but he’s clearly upset. He doesn’t say anything else though. He leaves the desk and walks toward the elevator.
I feel like I’m not controlling my body when I get up too. I follow him with a strange sense of obeying and disobeying at the same time. He did, after all, say yesandno.
