Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Tad shot her a weird look, "You don't know that."
"Trust me," Hannah said, taking another cookie, "I know."
No one is your friend here. Everyone is waiting for you to slit your wrists or down a bottle of aspirin. Do it already.
–
Something was going on in the office. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it was there just under the surface of efficiency and productivity. But there was a tangible unease he felt as soon as he walked into the building.
As a boss, he knew it was important to get ahead of all office changes. He put very strong people in charge for that very reason. He couldn't have nonsense taking root and sprouting all over. It was poor for morale. People always react like the animals they truly are- they herd together. One person's dissatisfaction is manageable. But once it spreads, every soul falls prey to the feelings. And before long, there is an absolute lack of company loyalty and, therefore, lack of good working conditions and poor job quality.
Unfortunately, it was impossible for him to get to the root of the issue. Everyone tip-toed around him. Everyone feared for their discovery. Everyone knew he could easily get rid of them, like a person flicking a fly. Everywhere he went, there was a hush. Normal, everyday office chatter ceased and all that could be heard was typing and phones ringing and the shuffling of papers. It wasn't new. No one wanted their boss to know what they were talking about at work. But somehow now it seemed more pronounced than ever.
He felt particularly concerned because he sensed hostility instead of a general frustration or malaise. It wasn't something he ever before noticed in his employees as a whole. If they were angry at management, at him, there was going to be a problem. And soon.
Brushing off the uneasy feeling, Elliott opened his office door to find Hannah gathering paperwork. She was something else that was weighing heavy on his mind. Not just because he couldn't stop thinking about her lips. He woke up in a sweat night after night, having had dreams about taking her breasts in his hands, sucking on the nipples or the feeling of her naked body pressing him into his bed. He wanted her more than he had wanted anyone in years. She was a constant sexual temptation.
He was determined to give her the space she obviously wanted. There had been no doubt in his mind that she regretted the night in her office, despite how much he knew she wanted him. She wasn't the kind of woman who slept with her boss. She took her job more seriously than he had ever seen any of his assistants and it was clear that she wanted to go places in her life. Screwing around with the people in charge wasn't the way she was going to do that.
But it wasn't just the attraction. Something was wrong with Hannah. He was ashamed to admit that he had taken so long to notice it for himself. He saw the unusual, worried looks Tad cast in her direction, but thought nothing of it. They were friends, friends had their own sort of language.
But then he finally saw the marked difference when she wore the shirt he had bought her to replace the one she ruined with coffee. He had bought it to fit her frame, snug but giving. When she wore it again, it was especially loose across the bust and waist. He was inclined at first to blame washing it too frequently, but it was only the second time she had ever had it on.
Then he started looking at her, really looking at her. For a while he had been seeing her like the woman he had imagined in his mind, not the actual woman in front of him. He saw her in that pink dress, looking sweet and beautiful. He saw her with passion in her eyes as her fingers sank into his back.
Somehow he had overlooked the fact that her face was looking sunken. Her cheekbone hollows were etched deeper, losing the plumpness over the apples of her cheeks. He could see the outline of her collarbone, the delicateness of her wrists. She was losing weight.
Normally, he would blame a diet. Every woman he knew was constantly trying to lose the last five or ten pounds, regardless of how thin they were. But Hannah had always seemed comfortable in her own skin. She wasn't model-thin and she wasn't heavy. She had a soft, curvaceous, womanly body. It was the kind of body most men would claim to love, not the super skinny women who graced magazine covers.
Hannah didn't seem the kind of woman to diet.
Fleetingly, he wondered about her health. She was even paler than ever, though she was practically ghostly to begin with. Maybe she hadn't been well and he hadn't noticed. At the sound of the door closing, she visibly jumped. Even when she saw him standing there, he noticed her hands were still shaking.