All my plans go down the tube, however, when I step out of the elevator. There, leaning against my desk with a full view of the entire floor, is Frankie. Our eyes meet and lock. There’s no turning back.
My legs feel like cement blocks as I cross the room. It doesn’t look like he has a gun, and besides, there are at least a dozen other people in the office. He can’t be here to kill me.
I approach him cautiously, my reptilian brain ready to fight or flee at any moment. Frankie straightens up, meeting me halfway. His eyes are cold, and I know I’ve hurt him. Somewhere deep in my heart, I mourn the love he once felt for me. It’s clear, however, that he doesn’t love me anymore.
“Hello,” I say.
“Hello,” he responds.
He gives me a peck on the cheek and puts his hand on my elbow. It’s a gentle touch, but his objective is clear. I can’t run anymore.I glance over at the door to Harlan’s office. It’s closed; I have no allies in this fight.
“Can we go somewhere to talk?” Frankie asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question.
I glance around. Of course, he doesn’t want to talk here where other people can hear us, but I don’t want to leave. If he gets me alone, there’s no telling what he will do. I think about my car, safely parked across the street. There’s no way I can get back there without creating a scene.
I look over at one of the conference rooms that is available for anyone in our building to use. It features a glass window so that everyone can see inside.
“This way,” I say, leading him toward the conference room.
Frankie sees where I’m going and takes control. He almost forces me along with him, his grip on my elbow tightening to the point of discomfort. Once we’re inside, he releases me and shuts the door.
“Was any of it true?” he demands frostily.
“Of course,” I reply, looking down at my shoes.
“Which part?” he snaps.
“I really did like you,” I respond, feeling tears well up in my throat.
Frankie turns away, pacing the length of the conference table before coming back to face me. “Did you really just run into me in the library, or was that all part of your plan?”
“I was there to do research,” I begin.
“On my family?” he guesses.
“That’s right,” I confirm. “I didn’t know I would run into you.”
“But when you did, you seized the opportunity,” he accuses.
“That’s right,” I repeat.
“The whole time you were just using me,” he moans, running a hand through his hair.
“No,” I plead. “That time at the park, and when you spent the night at my house?—”
“Stop!” he yells.
I glance over at the glass wall to see if anyone is paying attention. The few people on this floor are hard at work on their computers. They don’t even look up. I know that the conference room is soundproof because we aren’t the first people to want a private place to talk. But Frankie’s actions are getting closer to what I might call threatening. I hope that if he puts his hands on me, someone will intervene.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask in a small voice.
“I don’t know,” he admits with a sigh. “I’ve spent the last few days thinking about it.”
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I realize that despite the month we spent together, there’s a lot I don’t know about Frankie Corello.
“Have you ever killed anyone?” I whisper.
He laughs, not giving me an answer. He looks away again, as if my words have hurt him. I don’t think he’s the kind of guy whowould hurt me physically, but I can’t be sure. And does it really matter if he threatens me himself or has someone else do it?
