He’s lucky I don’t lace his coffee with poison.
I rap once on the door before entering without invitation. I almost drop the tray at the sight that awaits me.
Abby is draped over Charlie in an intimate gesture that equally boils my blood and lays siege to my vulnerable heart. Her butt is propped against the front of Charlie’s desk and she’s leaning over him, her face all up in his, her arm on his shoulder, peering at him with an obvious mix of concern and adoration.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I snap, stalking across the room. “I just thought you might like some coffee.” Over your head, my gnarly inner voice says, as I slap the tray down, rattling the cups and spilling some coffee from the pot.
Charlie wears his usual cold mask, but his lips twitch ever so slightly. “I said no interruptions.”
I cast a quick glance at Abby, my eyes lowering to the expensive rings on her wedding finger in case she needs a reminder of her marital status. “Yeah, I can see that.”
“Leave.” Charlie stares through me, his icy tone launching a new assault on my heart.
“Charlie!” Abby slaps his arm. “Don’t be rude.” She turns an intrusive lens my way as she pushes off the desk, standing behind Charlie. “Coffee wasn’t necessary, but it’s much appreciated. Thanks, Demi.”
I give her a tight smile, and then, I spin on my heel and get the hell out of there before I do, or say, something I regret.
I flounce back to my desk, seething. I read over the transcript I’ve just typed, correcting the multitude of errors as I fume inside.
I’m so mad at myself for blowing that asshole and for letting him reciprocate. Why the hell do I lose my morals and most of my brain cells the instant he touches me? And now, he’s in there with her fussing and fawning over him.
I spend an hour typing and retyping the report that I should have finished ages ago, but I can’t concentrate for shit. Because Abby is still in there with Charlie and my mind keeps conjuring up less-than-helpful images of them together—replaying what went down between us this morning on a loop, only this time it’s Abby draped across Charlie’s desk and it’s her pussy he’s devouring.
I’m contemplating pulling a sickie and going home when Charlie’s door opens, and Abby finally emerges. I pretend I don’t see her, feigning absorption in something on my screen. It’s rude and unprofessional, but I’ve zero fucks to give right now.
The door snicks shut with a subtle click, and I tap away on my computer, listening for the telltale sounds of disappearing footfall when a form hovers over my workstation.
She clears her throat, and I look up, plastering a fake congenial smile on my face. “Can I help you, Mrs. Anderson?”
She tosses her long dark hair over one shoulder. “I was hoping we could talk.” She glances around. “Is there some place private we could go?”
I want to talk to her as much as I want root canal surgery, but I’m intrigued enough to do it. “Of course. Follow me.” I get up, holding my shoulders back as we walk off, side by side. We don’t talk, and I hate the inquisitive stares that follow us as we make our way to the conference room.
And I get it.
It’s a bit like watching the Olsen twins out for a stroll.
We reach our destination, and I check the digital calendar on the wall, to ensure the room isn’t booked, before opening the door and gesturing Abby inside.
I close the door behind us and turn to face her. Neither of us sits. “What’s this about?” I ask, eager to get this over and done with.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” She stares me directly in the eyes.
“I don’t know what you mean.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“What you walked in on. I was just talking to him.”
I bite back my snort of hilarity, adopting Charlie’s cold mask of indifference. “It’s none of my business.”
“Oh, but I think it is.” She tilts her head to the side. “I’m not blind. I saw the way you were looking at one another. There’s something between you, right?”
“He’s my boss. I’m his employee. That’s the extent of our relationship,” I lie.
She moves back, propping her butt on the edge of the table. She seems to do that a lot. She extends her slim jean-clad legs, crossing her ankles at the feet and gripping the table with both hands. “You have the upper hand here, because you know who I am, but I don’t know anything about you.”
I smooth a stray hair back into my chignon, not surprised to hear that. I expect I was Charlie’s dirty little secret and that no one knows what went down between us Christmas night. “I don’t know what you expect me to say.”
“Can we just cut the crap and talk to one another honestly. From one woman who cares about Charlie to another?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I don’t care about him, but petty retorts are a waste of my time, and I’d rather get this—whatever this is—over and done with. I push off the door and walk to her side, mirroring her position. “Just say what it is you want to say.”
She turns to face me. “Was it you? Were you the woman he slept with Christmas night?”
Shock splays across my face, and my limbs almost go out from under me. “He told you about that?”
“He didn’t so much tell me as I figured it out.” Her lips kick up, and her eyes alight with mischief. “You left nail marks all over him, and he had obvious sex hair when he returned to the house.”
I stare at her incredulously. “Why aren’t you mad? I mean, I know you weren’t really married, but you were together at some point.”
She shakes her head. “We were never together like that. We kissed on occasion, but only when we needed to put on a show.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
She sighs, tucking hair behind her ears. “The world we inhabit is a fucked-up place.”
“You mean the elite?” I’ve read everything I could get my hands on about the organization, and while a lot of it is supposition, it seems plausible when you consider the wealthy circles these people are a part of. After what came out about Epstein, it’s hard to deny that anything is possible.
We live in a sick, sick world.
“Yes. Maybe someday, I’ll get to tell you my story, but essentially, Charlie and I were in an arranged marriage. He didn’t know I’d already married Kai, my husband, because things were strained with Charlie for a while.”
“And they’re not now?”
“It’s complicated, Demi. I’ve known Charlie practically all my life. He was my brother’s closest friend growing up. He made some shitty decisions, which led to a split in our friendship, but I believe in forgiveness where forgiveness is warranted, and I’m trying to fix things, but that man is a stubborn jerk.” She jabs her finger in the direction of Charlie’s office.
This time, it’s my turn to smile. “That’s putting it mildly.”
She laughs. “I noticed how brash he was with you, and that’s how I know.”
“Know what?”
“That he’s into you.”
I snort out a laugh. “That is ridiculous. He’s into humiliating me and making sure I know my place.”