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“I can send a hundred dollars right now,” I said.
“I thought you didn’t work a shift,” my mother said.
“I didn’t, but I have a little extra.” I hesitated. “I need glasses for reading, but my insurance doesn’t cover the entire cost of the lenses and frames, so I’m saving up for them.”
“Everything is so expensive now,” my mother said. “Maybe you should look for a different full time job, one with better health insurance to cover the cost of glasses.”
“I like my job here,” I said, “and the health insurance is much better than most companies provide.”
“Your father and I always knew that working as a secretary was the wrong decision for you. If you’d just applied yourself a little harder, you could have done something that made a difference - become a nurse or a personal support worker. I suppose that’s our fault for babying you, though. We were too easy on you and gave you too many compliments when we should have been handing out constructive criticism.”
My stomach clenched. I’d spent my childhood and teenage years being subjected to nothing but their constructive criticism. “You and Dad were strict.”
“Not strict enough, obviously,” my mother said. “Sweetheart, I worry about you, that’s all. You’ve never had a real purpose beyond wanting others to like you, and that’s not healthy. You need to be proud of yourself.”
“I’m trying,” I said. “I know I’m good at my job and valued for what I do here. I take pride in that.”
“Well, sure, but again, is it making a difference?” my mom asked. “You’re a secretary, sweetie. You’re not out there saving the world. I want you to be proud of yourself but for something that matters. Maybe you should start volunteering. You could volunteer at a hospital, which could lead to a potential new career. You’re not dedicated enough to be a nurse but could be a personal support worker. Think of how good you’d feel about yourself if you were helping other people in a way that mattered.”
I swung around, cocking my head as I heard voices coming down the hallway. One was Deacon’s deep voice, and I said, “Mom, I have to go. My boss is coming.”
“It’s your lunch break,” my mother said.
“I know, but… I have to go.”
“Will you send that hundred dollars? We need to pay the utility bill today.”
“I will,” I said as Deacon and Richard walked toward my desk. “I have to go, Mom.”
I ended the call as Richard gave me a wave and kept walking. Deacon stopped in front of my desk. When he glanced at my phone, I could hear the defensiveness in my voice when I said, “It’s my lunch hour. I wasn’t making a personal phone call during working hours.”
“It’s fine if you did. I trust you’ll manage your own hours and make up any time, if necessary,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said. “Would you like me to order you lunch? There’s a small cafe on the lobby level that delivers.”
“I’m good.” His dark eyes betraying nothing of what he was thinking, he said, “Do you have a moment to speak with me in my office?” He hesitated. “It’s not work related.”
“I have time,” I said.
We stepped into his office, and he shut the door behind us. “Have a seat, Char - Riley.”
I sank into one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. He sat in his chair and cleared his throat. “I wanted to speak with you about Wednesday evening.”
“Why did you change your mind?”
“Why are you working for the sisters?” he countered.
“What do you mean?” I stalled.
“Do you do it for the money or because you want to satisfy your praise kink?” he asked bluntly.
“What does it matter?” I asked.
His nostrils flared, and he gave me the look I recognized well from our play sessions. “Tell me, Charlotte.”
“It’s Riley, and I do the job well that you pay me to do. The reasons why I do it are my business,” I said.
“So, you’re perfectly happy to be someone else’s good girl?” he asked with what almost sounded like jealousy. “You want someone else touching you, making you kneel for them, making you come?”
