Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Follow me, Miss Holly,” I snap, walking out of the room. My fists are clenched so tight, my knuckles are turning white.
“Yes, sir,” she says, and I bite back my anger.
“It’s time you told me how you ended up here at Hammond Press,” I lead her inside my office, closing the door behind us. “First wearing a trench coat, and now sitting at a boardroom table with me.”
36
Tessa
I stand against Barclay’s office door. He leans over me, his hands above my head, caging me in. He gazes down at me, our labored breaths filling the silence surrounding us.
“Are you mad at me?” I stare up at him. The warring emotions in his dark eyes send shivers over my skin.
“Livid,” he speaks through a clenched jaw, nostrils flaring. I can’t bare him being this angry with me.
“I’m sorry.” My voice is as unsteady as my legs. Thankfully, the wall holds me up.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, searching my face for an answer.
“I dropped off my résumé last week and didn’t hear a thing until this morning. I’ve messed everything up.” I swallow the lump in my throat, trying not to cry. Will he ever trust me again?
“HR went over the fraternization rules with you, right?” I nod, biting my lip.
“I texted you right after the job offer, but you must’ve been too busy,” I say in a rush. Barclay leans in closer, his breath against my cheek, and I inhale his clean scent.
“Our being together is strictly forbidden. If there’s even a hint that we’re sexually involved, I’ll be outed and your employment will end. It’s the kind of scandal the media pounces on with our names spread across the headlines. Barclay Hammond and his ‘young plaything.’ This changes everything between us, Tessa.”
“I can’t call you Barclay anymore, can I?”
“No, but I’d prefer ‘sir’ over Mr. Hammond.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s my sweet girl.” He brushes a strand of hair from my cheek.
“And the last time you address me that way.”
“Oh God, Tessa. How will I stay away from you now that I’ve tasted your lips, felt you tremble in my arms? Seeing you here every day is the closest thing to hell a man can imagine.”
“I can resign,” I suggest without a thought, but it’s crazy. Who quits their dream job the first day?
“I can’t ask that of you, nor you of me,” he says.
With the lightest touch, he runs his nose along my jawline and lets his lips linger against my tingling skin. I close my eyes, promising never to forget this moment with him.
I wait for Barclay to kiss me or pull me into his arms, but he doesn’t cross that line. Instead, he pulls away from me, stands tall, and stuffs his hands into his pants pockets. An invisible wall is rising between us.
His face changes, hardens, as he reverts to the man who drove away and left me standing alone on the sidewalk. The warmth and tenderness he’s shown me is replaced by an impassive mask.
My heart shatters into a million pieces. I may have landed a job beyond my wildest dreams, but I’ve lost the man of my dreams in the process.
My chin falls to my chest, preparing for the worst, but secretly hoping for a miracle.
“Look at me, Tessa,” Barclay demands, sternly. “I can’t risk my company. And we’ve only just begun getting to know each other. You’ll find someone.” He stops and swallows, revealing a chink in his steel armor. “But it can’t be me.”
He turns away, moving to stand at the wall of windows behind his desk. His back is to me, and my hands begin to sweat.
He doesn’t have to say another word. This is it. We’re over.
“Goodbye, Barclay,” I whisper, my voice wobbly.
Not waiting for his response, or lack of one, I leave his office and hurry past a startled Mrs. Mackenzie.
“Tessa,” his assistant calls out behind me, but I don’t answer or stop. I flee to the closest restroom and collapse inside a stall, crying to release the pain inside until I can breathe again.
37
Tessa
Five days have passed since I last saw Barclay in his office. I overheard he had a sudden business trip overseas, and I welcomed the fact that he wasn’t walking around the same office building as me, not to mention the Hammond Hotel—my soon-to-be permanent home.
I dove into my work, spending ten hours a day at my cubicle. The learning curve overwhelmed me, but I tried to focus on one item at a time on my to do list.
My college advisor told me a boss determines how much you love or hate your job, and fortunately, I couldn’t have asked for a better one than Ms. Young. She encourages me to be creative and not be afraid of making mistakes.
“What are you doing here?” Ms. Young says, leaning over the wall of my cubicle. She peers down at me, shaking her head. “It’s Friday after five. There’s a happy hour somewhere in this city with your name on it. Turn off your computer and go. Scoot. Boss’s orders.”