AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Okay.” I kiss her on the cheek. “Love you.”
“You too,” answers Melissa, like I’m about to go be shipped off to war. “Be careful.”
“I will,” I say, and straighten up out of the car. I close the door, gesturing to the phone I have in my pocket. I make a typing gesture with my fingers adding, “text you when I’m up in the office and have accounted for her.”
To this, Melissa just nods and watches me leave.
As I do, I keep my eyes trained on the windows of the upper floors and Vanacore’s little alcove of them, checking for her shadow. Nothing still, but something still sits on my shoulder, nagging me.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Melissa
I’ve never felt so sick or filled with terror as I do now, watching Tommy leave the safety of my car and head up toward the office. Toward Vanacore, like he’s a puppet on an invisible web of strings called Fate. Numerous times in the next minute or two, I fight the urge to burst out of the car, chase him down, tell him what a horrible idea this is and that he should just go to HR with the evidence he has right now, and leave the rest alone.
When I’m not thinking about that, I’m thinking about tackling him in the parking lot and dragging him back to my car. Taking the day off, and talking some sense into him. Convincing him to just drop his position at the office and go work somewhere else. Anything to keep him safe and out of Vanacore’s control and clutches.
But I can’t. As much as I want to do this, he’s given me an order to stay here. He’s told me to wait until he notifies me. So, even if I want to, I have to obey him. Not only because he’s my boss, but because of the look he had in his eyes — that’s not something I’m prepared to argue with. Or have come back at me, because I may find myself in harm’s way, by trying to keep him out of it.
So, I wait. And I wait, feeling sick or and more stressed each second that goes by. I send up prayers. Call-in “Favors” with any and all guardian angels I have, begging them to keep him safe. To resolve this situation. Make it go away so that he and I can just get on with our lives together.
Finally, my phone buzzes with the text from Tommy. It just reads: Not in the office. Must not be here yet. Go ahead and head in. Remember: if your phone rings and you pick up, and there’s no voice on the other end, it’s me. If it’s me, just listen. Take notes of what’s going on, and then go as fast as you can to Kane. Charlotte in HR too.
My stomach cramps relax from the first bit of his text message, they tighten up again with the second half. He’s brought in the phone again, what I’m supposed to do if there’s no answer from him or if I hear something bad.
God, help me. And protect him. I admire Tommy for his bravery and bullheadedness. His dogged nature, but it could get him into some serious trouble. Trouble he doesn’t know how to handle, and a situation he can’t control. Thinking this, I crumple up my empty pastry bag and toss it in the seat next to me. I get out of the driver’s seat and out of my car a moment later, feeling even more sick to my stomach.
I can’t put the feeling into words, but I’m filled with dread. Filled with the sensation of something being “off” this morning, despite the bright colors and calm atmosphere.
For some reason also, my eyes keep drifting upward, toward the building. Toward the windows on the upper floor, where all the big-shot lawyers work. Though I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, or see anyone observing me, despite the overwhelming sense of being watched that I have, I’m still nervous. I’m feeling compelled to look up there. To study it, even as I make my way into the office and into the building, where my desk and Isabella await.
As if it’s just me and my unknown “issue” with today, Isabella greets me with a smile. She has boundless energy, despite the dread that’s overwhelming me. I do my best to match her energy and give her some kind of happy greeting, but it feels fake all the way through. Like it’ll just flake off my face any moment. Isabella doesn’t seem to notice though and proceeds to ask me how my weekend was.
If I wasn’t feeling so stressed and anxious, I would gladly tell her some details. The good ones about me getting to go shopping and all that, but not today. Not now. It’s all I can do to sit down at my desk and try to get to work. To try to keep from throwing up with the first ring of the phone, and every one after it.
