“Because I’m leaving.”
“Is that right?” His tone implies he doesn’t believe me.
“Yes.”
“Can I ask why?”
No you may not. That’s what I want to say. But if I had to guess, he is just going to keep pestering me until I answer him, so I might as well just tell him.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Damien, uhh, Mr. Graves and I had a conversation recently that, if I had to guess, will probably result in him terminating my contract. I’m sure that any minute now he is going to call me into his office to let me know. So I figured I’d pack up before that happens. It makes it less humiliating for both of us.”
Diego lets out a noncommittalhmmbefore clicking his tongue. “You know, I have worked with Damien for a long time. I’ve been friends with him even longer. We were colleagues once upon a time, you know.”
“Fascinating,” I say as I gently place two small succulents into the box. I’m hoping my flat disinterest in his words will givehim the hint that I’m not in the mood to talk. Unfortunately, Diego does not read the room.
“He’s not an easy man,” he goes on, and I actually snort at that.
“You’re telling me,” I mutter.
“But he is a good man. He just…he struggles with allowing himself to care about things. Namely, people.”
“Damien’s attachment issues are none of my concern. The contract was very clear about emotions being forbidden between us, and that has nothing to do with why I am leaving,” I say curtly.
“Really? Then why are you leaving? Because the last time I talked to him, he didn’t seem to know about it.”
“If he didn’t fill you in, then it’s definitely not my place to say,” I tell Diego, my eyes locked on his. “I can assure you that after our conversation on Friday–”
“When he came to your house,”
I stop and swallow hard. “I think it’s safe to say the contract is over.”
Diego studies me a bit longer before glancing out the window with a smile. “You’re good for him, you know that?”
“In what way?”
“In every way. If you want my advice, don’t jump to conclusions. And don’t give up. Be real with him. He needs it.”
Diego’s words are frustratingly vague, but he walks out before I can question them again. I go back to organizing my things and, a moment later, I hear wing tipped shoes on the marble flooring again.
“Jesus, now what–oh.” I stop myself, and my cheeks flush as Damien materializes in the doorway.
“Going somewhere?” he asks, nodding at the box the same way Diego did.
“I’m just…packing up.” My voice is soft as a lump forms in the back of my throat.
“You’re leaving?” he asks, and my eyes snap up to his.
“I assumed you were going to fire me.”
Damien takes a step closer. There is no harshness in his tone. No rigidity in his stance. “No. I’m not.”
I swallow back the lump, and he rubs the back of his neck.
“I guess I just assumed…”
“Nothing we talked about the other day changes anything, Ellie. The contract is still the same. Your position is still the same. With a few adjustments, of course.”
“Sir?” I ask shakily.
