Fuck yes.
I reread the message one last time. Clear. Concise instructions. It informed Harper that we had a strategy meeting scheduled for this weekend and we expected her to attend. I sent her the address and the time we expected her arrival.
A slow smile helped alleviate the last of the tension. If Harper needed to avoid us at work to help keep the rumors at bay, we could accommodate that request. I wished she’d had the courage to bring that request to us first instead of jumping to give us the cold shoulder.
I made a mental note to talk to her about it once we’d established our priorities for the weekend.
17
HARPER
Two days without any more threatening texts. Two days of going into the office and avoiding the three men who made me whole. I’d never been much of a crier, except when Dad passed, but these last two days had the waterworks threatening at the slightest provocation.
I kept staring at the message from Julian like it would change. I sensed the command in it and a hopeful feeling teased the edges of my frayed conscience. I checked my phone one last time. After messaging the anonymous texter back demanding to know who they were and what they thought I’d done, they’d gone silent.
Maybe they didn’t know anything after all. Could I take that risk? No. Better for all of us if I continued to lie low and hope they moved on to someone else. If I didn’t give them a story, they’d find something else to obsess over.
Hell, maybe it had all been a random prank. I rubbed my temples and tried to focus on the papers strewn across my desk.
Julian’s marketing strategy meeting gave me a chance to talk to them in a professional capacity. I just had to keep myself together.
Jarrad and a few others on the marketing team huddled around my desk with their own reports. “Things are on the upswing.” He tapped a blunt nail on the spreadsheet I’d printed.
I nodded and flipped to the previous years’ stats. “We’re definitely higher than at this point last year. What else? We need to make sure everything is on point.”
I expected them to back me up at this meeting. We all needed to present a united front, and so far, despite my lack of experience, no one had argued against my strategies.
Jarrad rattled off a string of numbers that projected a ten percent growth by the end of the month.
“Good. Good.” I stacked the spreadsheets and my notes into a pile according to dates and slid them into a manila folder. I’d been going over these numbers since receiving Julian’s text.
If they wanted to test me, I’d done everything I could to prepare and I would put my best foot forward. “With our current projections and strategies, we’re enhancing the brand while staying loyal to the company and its values. Good work.” I closed the folder and slid it into my messenger bag. A moment of hesitation stalled my hands. Should I offer to carpool with them to the meeting? It helped present a united front, but did I really want to spend the next hour in the car listening to more business talk?
Not really.
I reached behind me for my jacket and shrugged into it. “Great work everyone. I’m heading out for the meeting. I’ll see all of you later.”
A confused look spread around the room, but they all backed out and dispersed to their desks.
I should be more open to showing a united front at the meeting, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling they were talking about me behind my back. It had gotten better over the last day, but the falling silent and watching me as I walked past continued. I hated it. Part of me wanted to confront them. The other part remembered what happened last time I’d tried . The people I’d thought were my friends laughed me out of the classroom. I would not go through that again.
I checked my phone, then my map app. I had just enough time to stop for a coffee. Coffee and time to think. That was what I needed.
Ten minutes later, with coffee cooling in the cupholder, I turned on my favorite playlist and merged into traffic. The upcoming meeting and the treatment of my coworkers consumed my thoughts for the long drive.
Eventually, the GPS prompted me about an upcoming exit as my phone rang and Lila’s name popped up on the screen. I used the car’s Bluetooth to answer. “Hey, Lila? I’m in the car. What’s up?”
“I’m not sure. It might not be anything.” Concern laced her tone, growing thicker with every word. “A journalist was at the house.”
“Oh?” I signalled for the exit and joined a long line of cars heading south. “What kind of journalist? Did they want to do a story on your research?”
“No. They asked about you.”
My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. I peeled one hand free and stretched my fingers to ease the sudden ache. “What?”
“That’s what I said. I asked why they wanted to do a story on someone who works in marketing. I mean, yeah, you work at one of the city’s fortune 500 companies, but it made no sense.”
I tried to talk but words stuck in my throat. I prided myself on my professionalism. It was the only thing in this world that earned me any respect. I’d sacrificed that when I chose to sleep with Dante and the others. If I lost that in the eyes of the world, I had nothing. My lungs tightened. The seatbelt dug into my skin and pressed into my neck, making it hard to breathe. Hard to focus.
