I clicked between cells randomly, pretending to work while my pulse hammered in my ears and my thoughts spiraled darker.
At noon, I went to the break room and made coffee I didn't drink.
It sat on the counter getting cold while I stared out the window at the gray Boston skyline and tried to convince myself everything was fine.
I was convinced something terrible had happened and I didn't know if I should be worried for him or terrified for myself or both at the same time in equal measure.
Then his secretary appeared at my cubicle at four thirty and my heart dropped straight through the floor and kept going.
Penny stood at the edge of my desk with her hands folded in front of her and looked at me with an expression that gave absolutely nothing away.
Though I was certain the apprehension and anxiety I was feeling were scrawled all over my face.
"Mr. Locke needs the quarterly reports and the Lang correspondence delivered to his home," she said, her voice flat and even. "He's sent a car for you. It's waiting downstairs now."
"Clayton?" I asked, feeling confused. There were two Mr. Lockes at this company, and both of them would have more than enough motive to draw me away from this place.
"Mr. Asher Locke," she said dryly as I squirmed.
I was confused. "Wait… He didn’t come to work today and now he's asking me to come to his house?"
"Ms. Porter, if it's a problem I can call?—"
"No, no problem, " I said, standing up, but it was a huge problem. Wasn't it? Or was it?
My head spun a little as I smoothed my hands down the front of my skirt.
I wanted an update on him, but did I really want to be requested by him personally? And to come to his house? What message did that send to his other staff members?
"He asked for you personally." Her tone didn't change but her eyes sharpened, pinning me in place. "And before you consider refusing, I'd remind you of how Mr. Locke treats interns who don't follow instructions. You're fortunate to still be here, Miss Porter."
The tone of her warning settled the argument going on inside my head. The fear that needled at my conscience, that someonewould think something unprofessional about my going to Asher's home, quieted, though it wasn't entirely silent.
I grabbed my purse and moved forward on legs that wobbled the first few steps as Penny backed away and left me to it.
My thoughts raced ahead to a dozen different disasters—colleagues thinking I was sleeping my way to the top, Clayton learning about this little visit and knowing I'd been keeping secrets.
Worse things too, like my utter humiliation when Asher found out about how Clayton had paid me to seduce him.
When the elevator doors opened at the ground floor, the car was waiting exactly where Penny said it would be.
The driver stood beside the rear door in a dark suit that looked expensive and he opened it without speaking, though he smiled and nodded at me as I approached.
I wondered how much Asher paid this man just to drive him around everywhere but thought better of asking.
I slid onto the leather seat in back with Asher's files tucked against my chest, and the driver closed the door behind me before rounding the car and climbing in the driver's seat.
The engine started, and we pulled out into the street where I watched Boston crawl past the windows and tried to breathe evenly while my thoughts continued to spiral.
Maybe Clayton had already won.
Maybe he'd called Asher this morning and told him everything, laid out the recordings and the bank statements and made me look like a harlot.
Maybe this was just cleanup now, getting me alone so Asher could threaten me into silence, make sure I never worked in Boston again. Or maybe Asher was angrier than that.
Maybe he wanted to confront me himself, hear me admit what I'd done before he tore my life apart the way I'd been trying to tear his apart.
We arrived much faster than I expected, but the fancy Greenwich brownstone was just as elegant as I assumed it would be, judging by Asher's choice in clothing and office decor.
