“Caldwell,” I sigh. Guess I might as well get whatever scolding he’s going to give me over with. I knew he wouldn’t let me get away with how I spoke to Allie in front of him yesterday.
“Tyler,” he replies curtly.
“Look I?—”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he says. “Whatever is going on between you two is none of my business.” He adjusts his tie as if it weren’t already perfectly straight. “We both know Allie can handle herself.”
“She sure can,” I breathe out.
He takes a step forward, looking back over his shoulder. “But, Ash?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t hurt her.” He slaps my cheek gently, yet firmly enough to get his point across. “You have such a pretty face. I’d hate to have to break it.”
“Noted.”
He walks away and I feel the physical burden of guilt crushing me. I know what I have to do. Declan unintentionally reminded me. I should have done it the second I saw her in that conference room last week. Maybe waiting makes me a terrible person, but now I have to be sure before there’s no coming back from it.
9
ASHTON
When I walkintoThe Lanternon Monday morning, I’m shocked to see Allie is already at her desk, typing away. I’m even more surprised to see an espresso from The Roasted Bean sitting on my desk next to a stack of papers. I drop my messenger bag on the floor and flip through the stack. They’re article pitches—organized by sections of the newspaper and alphabetized within each section. I glance over at the coffee. I haven’t drunk a drop of any of the coffees I’ve made Allie get me. Who knows what she could have done to them? Instead, I’ve been sneaking the drip coffee in the staff lounge when she’s not looking. I honestly prefer it. Making her go all the way to the café is just another way to fuck with her.
Now guilt gnaws at me. Especially after the phone call I had this weekend. I told myself I shouldn’t get even more involved than I already was. That I should tell her and be done with it. But another part of me, the protective side I didn’t even know existed, wanted to suss out the situation first, and I’m glad I did.
I take my laptop out of my bag and mentally catalog all the possible things Allie could have put in my coffee—laxatives, salt, and saliva topping the list. Whatever, I’ll take my chances. Ilift the small cup to my nose. It smells normal. Hovering my lips over the steamy crema, I take a tentative sip at the same time I open my laptop. Tastes fine too, but there are a lot of tasteless poisons out there.
I relax into my chair as the smooth, hot liquid coats my throat, but I almost spit it out when I see the first few words of the message waiting for me.
Allie: Good morning, Sir. As you may have seen, I organized all of the article pitches for this week. I also added all of your upcoming phone meetings to your calendar and emailed you the newly signed ad space contracts that came in over the weekend. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you. Otherwise, I will focus on my upcoming article for the rest of the day.
Who the fuck kidnapped Allie and replaced her with…whoever the hell wrote that message? Did she really think I was going to fire her and is now overcompensating? Or was it something Declan said to her? I put the coffee down and type out a reply.
Thank you.
It may be the first time I’ve ever thanked her for anything, but fake New Year, new leaf, and all that. I resist the urge to type “office” and settle on something nicer.
Would you mind swinging by my office?
Allie: Was there something you needed? As I said, I’m very busy today which is why I set you up for independence.
There is something I need. For you to come to my office. Sorry if it sounded like a request.
Well, that lasted all of five minutes. Set me up for independence? Like I’m a fucking dog that she left food and water out for? The familiar bitterness of anger rises in my throat. Or maybe that’s the coffee trying to make a reappearance. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted it. I’m trying my best to put the past behind us, but she’s making it really fucking difficult.
The door to my office swings open, revealing a pissed-off brunette, her eyes narrowed behind her signature black-rimmed glasses, shiny hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She’s wearing a black dress similar to the one she was wearing at the New Year’s party, only slightly longer, and an oversized maroon blazer hangs over her shoulders. She looks…terrifying. In the best way possible. Like a sexy librarian who will do unspeakable things to you if you don’t return your books on time. Too bad she drives me up a wall. I quickly put my eyes back in their sockets before she notices my unabashed perusal.
“Did you suddenly forget how to knock?” I spit out.
“You called me in here. Why would I knock?” She crosses her arms and puts all her weight on one hip.
“Sit,” I say, ignoring her question. Guess we’re back to the one-word orders. I can’t help it. She brings out a side of me I don’t even know what to do with. Half the time, I’m shocked by what comes out of my mouth around this woman.
It looks like it physically pains her to do it, but she sits in the chair opposite my desk. I lean back and put my hands together, forming a steeple with my fingers. Seconds tick by, but I remain silent. I can’t resist making her sweat a little. The way her lips curl upward and her right eye twitches has this primal need growing inside me. I don’t understand it. As much as I enjoy games, chess was never my thing. Yet, all I want to do is anticipateher next move and counter it before she even knows what’s happened.
“What do you want?” she finally says, her tone biting.
