Damian
Astrangefeelingburrowsunder my skin. It’s been like that all day.
I’ve spent the day going about my normal routine. Protein shake in the morning, followed by a couple of hours in front of my computer, getting shit done. After that, I changed into a pair of sweatpants and hit the gym that is installed in my penthouse apartment with every intent to shake this gnawing feeling.
But I can’t seem to sweat it out no matter how many miles I run or reps I do. It’s still there.
Asking the new hire, Brielle, to be my date tonight was a bad idea. Even worse, she isn’t just a Valentine’s Day date, but someone I have to pretend to be enamored with for the sake of this godforsaken deal. I’m starting to think it isn’t worth it. Call Cardinal West Outdoors a loss and move on to other opportunities, but that thought just unsettles me more. I know Walter Bruke is gunning for them just as much as I am. It’s all the motive I need to keep this charade up just to make sure he doesn’t get this contract.
Besides, quitting isn’t in my DNA. Then again, neither is lying. I’ve never had a reason to. I show up as I am, I tell it as it is, and if someonedoesn’t like it, they can join the Satan Sucks fan club. I’m sure they have T-shirts.
This isn’t solely resting on my shoulders though. Brielle will need to pull her weight, too. She’ll need to be convincing as being head over heels for me.
I should have added that as a clause to our agreement.
No, that wouldn’t be fair. Technically, she requested the additional day off as compensation for going to this dinner. Just showing up is enough to meet those qualifications.
I didn’t get her phone number yesterday before we parted. A rare oversight on my part, considering I also failed to get her address.
The company HR files are stored in a cloud-based application that I can access anywhere. I find her employee record and plug her cell number into my phone before sending her a message.
Me: This is Damian Edgerton.
A reply comes back only seconds later.
Brielle: Hello, Damian Edgerton.
Me: State your name so I confirm I’m speaking to the correct person
Brielle: You messaged me…
That almost sounds snarky, but people don’t snark at me, so maybe I’m reading it wrong.
Me: Name
Brielle: Brielle Elizabeth Collins
She’s managed to change her text font to a swirling script. Something about seeing her full name written out makes me feel weird, but then again, I’ve been feeling that way all day. I swallow roughly and shake myself out of this strange stare.
Me: Was that so hard?
Brielle: I believe you meant to saythank you for being so accommodating.
I snort laugh.
Christ, I can’t remember the last time someone other than Louisa was snarky with me. She clearly doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. Maybe picking the new girl was the right idea after all.
I confirm her address, and after more haggling than necessary, she agrees to let me pick her up from her apartment. It isn’t too far from the office, but far enough that it puts her in another part of the city that’s less than thriving.
Me: Be ready for 5:00 p.m.
She likes my text with a thumbs-up. I tap my phone on my leg as a smirk tugs at my mouth. I type out one more message for her benefit…
Me: Thank you for being so accommodating.
I pull up to the old brick building just before 5:00 p.m. All of the windows seem to be covered in a filmy fog, iron grates covering them to protect them from being broken. There isn’t anywhere to park, so I continue down the street until I can turn around and come up from the other side. I pull my black Mercedes Maybach up to the curb, where a presumably homeless man is sitting in the doorway of the apartment building next door.
“Nice ride,” he calls as I exit the car.
