Eliana
“She hates me,” I tell Taylor after sinking into my chair, my face heated as I recall my first meeting with my boss. I want to blame it on the slight hangover I have from indulging in too much gin last night, but I can’t help but wonder if it is just the fact that I am not cut out for this.
“She doesn’t hate you. Petra just has a way she wants things done, and she doesn’t leave room for negotiation.” She tries to placate me.
I place my forehead dramatically on the desk, unable to believe how a person can mess up as royally as I have. “I get that now.”
“Come on, we can grab a glass of wine later if you pull yourself together.”
I lift my head off the desk, and I’m about to agree, but something tells me my bodyguard won’t be happy about it. Worse, he’ll follow, and everyone will know I’m being babysat. “Maybe next time. I’ve got to get this pitch redone and submitted to Petra before I leave for the day.”
“Eliana, you’re smart, and you’re still new to the job, so don’t be so hard on yourself. We, Petra included, have all started right where you are.” Sincerity laces her words.
After Taylor leaves, I decide to go out to get a sandwich from the café around the corner. I don’t know what makes me do it, but after grabbing my purse out, I start checking each compartment. My father used to bug my bags and jackets when I was younger. When I feel the small device, I rip it out, let out a grunt, and slam my bag on the floor.
Crushing the bug under the sole of my shoes, I remind myself that this is nothing new. I have been followed around my entire life. Unfortunately, that fact doesn’t stop the anger from seeping through my veins to the point where I want to scream and break stuff.
I suddenly don’t want to leave, not if it means running into that asshole. I order a delivery of Chinese food then stuff my face while working on the revised pitch for Petra. I’m disappointed I didn’t crack it on the first go, but Taylor is right, I need to cut myself some slack. Petra is draconian, but she’s right about most of what she said. She could cut back on the condescending tone though. Once satisfied, I click send, pack as quickly as I can, and leave before she can read my email.
One look at Braxton’s face and my misery returns. I don’t bother saying hello to him. He doesn’t deserve any kind of acknowledgement. I’ve resolved to go back to ignoring his existence once again. I hate feeling the way I do, completely violated. I thought that we agreed on boundaries, but he obviously didn’t respect those.
“You okay, Eliana?” He asks when we’re standing in the foyer of our building. I haven’t so much as looked his way since we left the office. I’d hoped that he’d disappear into thin air, or at least get the picture that I want nothing to do with him.
“No. No, I am not okay, none of this is okay. This is not okay,” I fling the small metal device the size of a coin at him.
“You found the bug.” He says, his hands on his hips, letting out a sigh.
“I thought we came to an arrangement, but all you do is spy on me. I’m following orders, doing as I am expected, yet you have me bugged.” I shout.
“I said I’d keep my distance, but your safety is still my priority. I’m sorry if that isn’t convenient for you.” The elevator door opens, and we step inside. I stab the button then turn to him.
“It isn’t.” God this makes me angry, but it makes me sad too. I am exhausted, completely drained. This is supposed to be a happy time in my life, and my father has managed to taint it.
He doesn’t respond as we walk down the corridor toward our apartments. But suddenly he pushes past me, taking the lead. “Stay behind me.”
“Why?” I hiss.
“Just listen to me, Eliana,” He growls. The stress in his voice has me nodding and slowing my steps. He pulls the pistol out of his holster. “Stay here,”
His stance is tense as he stops a few feet away from the door. I do as I am told watching him kick the door open before charging inside.
“Clear,” He shouts to me after a while, and I walk in. “The door was ajar, I had to be sure everything was fine.”
“Nothing seems to be out of place,” I say after taking a look around. “Maybe I left it open when I was leaving. I was in a hurry this morning.”
“Maybe,” He says thoughtfully. Something tells me he doesn’t think so.
“You can leave now,” I say, walking up to him.
“Yeah, sure,” His eyes scan the room again before he walks out of the apartment.
* * *
I roll my eyes at the knock on the door half an hour later, already knowing who is on the other end. What I didn’t expect were the gray sweatpants. I hate that he’s so damn hot. Why hadn’t my father hired someone older, someone less Braxton? He stalks in past me without asking, plopping himself down on the couch. “`Braxton, can I help you?”
“Not really,” he shrugs.
“So what are you doing here?”
