Unworthy (6 page)

I always get what I want

And I

Want you

Miss Grace.

Oh my God, Oh my God. As I hold the note in my hand I feel my body heat rise. As I look at his words my self doubt and loathing begin to shout in my head.

Yeah, he wants you as a joke and that’s all anyone like him would want you for. As much as I hate myself for bringing me back from my high I know my inner self is right. There is no way that he really means what this card suggests and definitely what he said last night. I am the joke for even allowing it to be a possibility. Oh God, I am so stupid. As I try to steady my breathing I screw the card in my hand and throw it into the nearest bin. I carry on with the rest of my day trying very hard not to think of grey eyes.

I don’t know what office he works in but I don’t see him for the remainder of the day and I can’t help, but feel grateful, although I am sure I can feel eyes on me. Wednesday ends up being exactly as the day before and I get lots of work done although there is lots of gossip about Mr. Harding which I find difficult not to listen to.  I take another sleeping pill that night and have another restful night’s sleep that does wonders for my sanity. I get on with my work that morning and just before noon one of the managers comes down to tell me there will be a meeting the following day which I have to set up and get the financial reports printed and presented into books. He looks over at me with a worried look as he tells me Mr. Harding won’t be happy with what the reports will show. I also have to attend and make notes which have to be forwarded to his personal assistant.

     I decide to go to the cafeteria and have a small lunch now while I have the chance. While I stand in the queue no-one gives me a second look which is how I like it. I really don’t like drawing attention to myself and the fact that I can go unnoticed is perfect for me and my emotions. I think I have been like this for as long as I can remember, but as long as I can go through the rest of life not going through what I did as a child then I will be happy. I think that’s why I just carry on and do as I am told here in work. If I do as I am told then I don’t get any attention. I sit down at a table far away from everyone else and begin to eat my chicken salad, but as I do I am sure I can feel eyes at the back of my head once again and I can’t seem to shake the feeling away. I don’t look up or towards where I feel the eyes are coming from and just concentrate on my lunch. There’s lots of noise all around me, but I can really feel those darn eyes closing in on me. Before I know it, it’s time to get up and go to the conference room. I keep my head down while I walk through all the people sitting eating their lunch and I am sure its only one set of eyes looking up at me. But I don’t look towards them. I am not that girl. I don’t want the attention from others; I just want to go through life not bringing attention to myself. I’ve had enough attention to last a lifetime.

I make my way to the conference room and I am glad to feel that the eyes are gone. I can’t help, but release a sigh as I step into the room I now have to prepare for twenty people. I bring up the relevant files I need on my tablet and link it to the printer so the documents can print. I arrange them all in order and prepare them into folders for each person. I design a layout for a spreadsheet to be situated at the back of the room that outlines all the company’s earnings and losses which, looking at it looks impressive. What do I know, though, I’m just an intern. I lay out all the relative documents to each person as was asked of me, each person has a note pad and a pen and when I feel I get to the stage where I feel it’s all ready I go back to the staff room which is just off to the side. It’s deadly quiet and it’s not till I look at my watch that I realize how late it is. As I make my way through the floor to the elevator I can see that Mr. Harding’s office door is open and I can hear a raised voice.

     “I swear to God, dad, he’s not doing his job. We should be making loads, but he hasn’t invested in anything else except this building. We should have made triple of what we have.” I swear I recognize that accent and the voice, but I don’t know how. As I get closer to his open door I can hear him take a deep sigh and then someone else speaks.

     “There’s a meeting tomorrow son”

     “Yeah, they’re not going to like what I say to them.”

     “Let me and your uncle know what happens, we may have to lose people.” At those words I can feel the shock take over my body and it makes me think who they could possibly think of losing. I can’t stand and listen any further, I have already heard too much. I walk as quickly as I can to the elevator and swipe my card. I walk quickly to the Tube and am actually able to sit down when I get on the train. I never like leaving this late, but I seem to be doing it more and more without getting any benefits at work. I don’t do it for the benefits; I want the experience, so hopefully they can see me at a higher position.

As soon as I get my tired butt through my door I throw my coat on the floor along with kicking my shoes off and collapse on to my bed.  I look up at my ceiling and that’s when I can hear the boom boom of the room above mine as they play their music. Without knowing it takes me back to a time where I would be hiding in my bedroom trying to drown out the noise of my mother and stepfather while they entertained their friends. A lone tear falls down my cheek as I try to forget the bad memory, but then something else consumes my thoughts. I lie there for what feels like hours just thinking of the same face until I eventually fall asleep.

     When I wake up I feel like I have hardly had any sleep, but my mobile is screaming at me to wake up. The meeting is at nine and I still have things to organize. I shower, dress, have my cereal and I’m out the door within thirty minutes and even I’m impressed with myself. I rush over to my local baker’s and pick up my order of pastries and get carefully across the city to work. When I get to the building at eight fifteen there are only a few other people around, but they are still inconsiderate. People bump into me without even a thought for the fact I am carrying something and no-one acknowledges me and it makes me wonder if these people even see me. Do they know who does most of their work with no acknowledgment?  The fact that I can even do it is enough for me.

     I get to my floor at the top of the building and make my way again to the conference room. Everything is just as I left it. I put my box down and then head to the kitchen to get plates. There’s a kitchen and staff room on my floor and as I go through Daisy, one of the cooks, greets me. I take the plates that I want and head back to the conference room. I fill the large plates with the pastries and leave the other plates to the side so people can take them when they want. I take out glasses and three jugs of iced water just as the first people begin to come through the doors. I step towards the doors with my head down and wait for the room to fill with everyone that is required to attend. I can hear different voices fill the room and then I am sure I recognize the American accent I heard last night that sounded so familiar move away from me and then pause as I feel those eyes on me again. It’s as if the stare penetrates my whole body, I feel tingles all over and it’s as if I can feel him look over me as if I were naked. My temperature rises and I am sure I can feel my cheeks begin to flush. This is such a strange sensation, why am I getting like this? I hope I’m not getting a bug. I take in a deep cleansing breath and turn around and that’s when I’m sure my world stops turning. I swear I can feel my legs begin to shake and my temperature rises to higher levels. I can feel my blood leave my head and I’m sure I can feel the sweat pooling at my brow making me feel uneasy and shaky. There at the head of the table opposite to where I am meant to sit is the man that has been consuming my thoughts since I first meet him.

Samuel.

     Samuel is Mr. Harding. Mr. Harding is Samuel. Of course he is, because that’s just how my life goes. All the bloody time, as soon as I think things are getting good something comes along and makes my life turn on its axis and the bastard is looking at me all over with a smug grin on that face of his. Oh God, why does the world hate me, out of all people my boss has to be the one man who seems to be able to get a reaction out of me. This isn’t good. This so isn’t good and I can feel the bile rise at the back of my throat? Why am I allowing myself to get this bothered by him, the man’s a billionaire and there’s no chance he will be interested in me. That’s right, Grace, there is no chance Mr. Moneybags over there will be interested in little old me. I take in another deep breath and carry on doing what I was doing and the whole time I can feel his eyes undressing me. I must stop thinking about him because he’s just messing with me, just trying to get a reaction out of me. I take my seat and get myself ready to make notes when I hear that American accent again. Oh God, I could listen to that accent all day.

     “OK, ladies and gentlemen, are we ready to begin?” He sounds so in control that I can’t help, but look over at him. He’s sat there all cool and handsome with his dark grey suit and black tie and white shirt that just seems to reek of expense. He’s so out of my league.

     “What’s going on with these reports?” I can see everyone in the room instantly become nervous and the tense atmosphere increases. I see him lean forward and reach over for a case and then he’s completing his look by putting on a pair of black rimmed glasses and I can swear I feel my knickers get slightly damp.

     “Let me tell you what these reports tell me.” He takes a breath before he continues.

     “The business is doing well, very well in fact, but there are a lot of credits and there have been no investments. My father and uncle want to take the business into Europe, hotels, spas, malls, you name it and that is where the business is going over here, but I see nothing in these reports that suggest you are doing your jobs.” Through my eyelashes I can see the people in the room look at one another and as I turn to look at Samuel I can see he is looking frustrated. His eyes are intense as they look out at the table and his hands are held together in front of what I expect is a hard defined chest. Even in this state the man exudes sex appeal and if I were that way inclined I would want to jump at the chance. My God, where did that come from? Stop it, Grace, you are supposed to be working. Just then I’m being drawn back to the room when I hear something interesting from the director.

     “Sir, we haven’t made as much as you think.”

     “These reports suggest that you have and I want to know what’s been happening here.” 

     “Sir, it is more complicated than what you might think.”

     “Well someone better explain it to me then because I don’t understand what’s going on here.”  Everyone is silent again.

CHAPTER FIVE

SAMUEL

Concentrate Samuel.

Just concentrate on the matter at hand. If I don’t look at her I can hopefully get through this meeting easier. I knew she was going to be here, I actually requested her presence, but it doesn’t help with the problem I know I have and if I stand up the whole fucking room will know the problem that I have.  She looks so beautiful, though, and I can feel her draw me in with her beauty. She is wearing trousers again, why is she always wearing trousers. From what I saw on Saturday night she has killer legs, killer legs that should be seen and wrapped around my waist while I fill her to my balls.

     Stop it, Samuel, you have to concentrate and get this done and you can’t do that by thinking of the female that’s consuming your every waking moment. What is she doing to me? I am never like this, I never allowed myself to get like this over a woman, but this one who I hardly know is doing just that and it confuses the fuck out of me.

     I look up at all the worried faces, they should be worried after all their lack of fulfilling their roles within the business and I make the mistake of making eye contact with her. She blushes as she notices me watch her and I can’t help but think how adorable she looks, and fuckable while the color rises in her cheeks. Today she is wearing a white blouse that points at her chest, it isn’t low enough for my tastes, but you can just see the hint of what lies beneath. As I watch her it is like the rest of the room ceases to exist and it isn’t until she looks at me again through those long dark lashes that I am brought back to my present problem and not that one I feel in my pants.

     “I’m waiting, ladies and.” I look around the room at all the nervous faces except one and I can feel the anger begin to boil.