Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) (10 page)

“What did she
say?” he repeated.

“Do you want
all of it?”

“I do.”

“Yesterday
morning, before you arrived for work, she said that, as far as she was
concerned, both of us have jobs that are on the line, and because of that, we
are being tested, so it’s in our best interests if we simply focus on our work
and forget about whatever hormones passed between us.
 
She said that if I was to keep my
job—and to climb the ladder at Wenn, which I told her was my goal before
she even hired me—she was expecting nothing but focus and results from
me.
 
And then she mentioned
you.
 
She said that you will only
distract me from those goals, which would lead to no good because she wouldn’t
tolerate anything that would leave my head in a fog.”

“I had no idea
she said anything like that to you.”

“Why would
you?
 
There was no reason to mention
it to you until this morning.”
 
I
held out my hands to him.
 
“What it
comes down to is this—I can’t lose this job.
 
I have bills to pay.
 
Student loans to pay off.
 
And Blackwell is now watching my every
move with real intent.
 
What do you
suppose she’d think if she heard my computer ding when you send me an IM?
 
If that continues to happen, it’s only a
matter of time before I get caught.
 
If she ever found out that we were communicating that way about anything
that had nothing to do with work, it would infuriate her.
 
She’d call me out on it, she’d say that
I was doing it behind her back, and she’d be right.
 
I’d have zero defense.
 
So, if it’s not work-related, I can’t
have you message me like that any longer.
 
And I can’t see you like this again.
 
I hope that you understand.”

“I was hoping
to get to know you,” he said.
 
“And
now I’m being told that I can’t.
 
She’s treating us like some sort of teenagers who have done something
wrong.
 
I call bullshit on
that.
 
And frankly, the fact that
she warned you against me pisses me off.”

“I didn’t mean
to make you angry.”

“Too late for
that.
 
And to be clear, I’m not
angry with you.
 
I’m angry with
her.
 
I’ve been single for the past
two years while I worked my way through Wharton, and the first woman who caught
my eye since I arrived in Manhattan has been told to steer clear of me.
 
Why?
 
What in the hell have we done
wrong?
 
Nothing.
 
It’s absurd.
 
Aren’t you angry?”

“Yes, but I’m
also powerless—and she knows it.
 
I can’t rock the boat, Brock.
 
I’m not like you.
 
I’m not a
Wenn.
 
I don’t have much money, and
I need this job.”

“You think I
have money?” he asked.

“I don’t know
whether you do or not, and if you do, I really couldn’t care less.
 
But just by the way Blackwell is
treating you alone, you have to admit that because you are related to Alexander
Wenn that it’s unlikely that you’d be given the boot as easily as I would.
 
I’m nothing to these people.
 
I’m perfectly interchangeable.
 
You aren’t.”

“Let me clarify
a few things for you,” he said.
 
“Alex’s father was my father’s brother.
 
I haven’t had a relationship with my
father for several years because we’ve never seen eye-to-eye.
 
Yes, I grew up wealthy, but I threw all
of that away because I couldn’t deal with my father’s demands or expectations
of me anymore.
 
Nothing I did was
ever good enough for him, so I just cut him out of my life.
 
At this point, I’m dealing with my own
debt.
 
Hell, I probably have as much
money in the bank as you do, and that’s the truth.
 
I live in a cheap three-bedroom
apartment in the Village with two friends from my undergrad days.
 
All three of us are struggling to make
it here just like you are.
 
Do I
have an advantage because Alex is my first cousin?
 
To a point, I do.
 
But there also are downsides to that
relationship.
 
What’s already clear
to me is that Alex has very high expectations of me.
 
He’s already set the bar in the
stratosphere, and he expects me to jump over it with ease.
 
Will I do it?
 
Maybe not with ease, but I’ll give it my
best shot because I’m hungry enough to try.
 
I also want to make it, Madison.
 
Alex might have given me a chance, but
that’s all that he’s given me.
 
If I
screw things up, I know my cousin.
 
He may give me a couple of breaks, but just a couple before he shows me
the door.”

When he
finished, he ran his hand through his thick black hair, picked up his coffee,
and then put it back down without touching it.
 
By the dark look in his eyes alone, I
could tell that he was at once frustrated and incensed.
 
I’d been wrong about him—he did
have something to lose, and to prove.
 
And it spoke volumes for him that he’d ditched a life of wealth to step
out on his own.
 
But still, as
attracted as we were to each other, I couldn’t allow the flame that was
smoldering between us to fully ignite.
 
Because if it did, and we couldn’t keep ourselves in check?
 
Nothing good would come of it.

“Why can’t we
meet like this?” he asked.
 
“Why
can’t we get to know one another on our own time?
 
What in the hell does this have to do
with Wenn?”

“I should go,”
I said.

“Don’t leave.”

“It’s for the
best, Brock.
 
For each of us.
 
I mean that.”

“Says who?”

“Your cousin
and Blackwell.”

“And how do you
feel?”

Robbed.

“It doesn’t
matter how I feel.
 
What matters is
that we each need to keep our heads on our shoulders and do our jobs.”

“Are you incapable
of doing that if we get to know each other better?”

I looked at him
in the eyes before I answered and decided it was necessary to tell him the
truth.
 
“I’m not sure,” I said.
 
“Because, to be honest with you, I am
attracted to you.
 
And you see?
 
That’s just the problem.
 
If I allow this to go any deeper than it
has, I’ll just be a mess if it doesn’t work out.”
 

I reached for
my bag at my feet.
 
“I’m going to
leave now, but I need you to promise me this first—please don’t send me
any IMs unless they are work-related.
 
And please say nothing of what I revealed to you to
Blackwell—about how she interfered.
 
If you do, that will just be like hammering the final nail in my coffin,
so regardless of how angry you are with her, I’m hoping that you won’t do
that.
 
After yesterday, I need to
bring my best to Wenn.
 
I need to
give it my all if I’m going to meet Blackwell’s demands.
 
But if I’m distracted—and you know
what I mean by that—I fear that I won’t be able to.
 
I hope that you understand.”

“To a point I
do, but you should know this about me.
 
I don’t give up easily, Madison.”

“Brock, we
don’t even know each other.
 
What’s
the point?”

“Here’s the
point—when was the last time you felt what we felt the other day?
 
Was that just a fluke?
 
Does that happen to you often?
 
Because it sure as hell hasn’t happened
to me in years.
 
Are we just
supposed to ignore it?”

“We’re going to
have to,” I said.
 
“And we’re also
going to be late for work if we don’t get out of here.
 
I’ll leave first so she doesn’t see us walking
in together.
 
Finish the rest of
your coffee.
 
Try to forget about
this morning.
 
And I’m sorry, Brock.
 
You don’t know how sorry I am, but I
hope that you know that none of this is because of you, because it isn’t.”

“It doesn’t
have to be this way, Madison.”

“I’m afraid it
does.”

With that, I
stood, put my bag over my shoulder, and with a sick feeling in my gut, I turned
my back on him before he could see how bright my eyes were becoming.
 

I barely knew
him, but I certainly hadn’t been expecting our conversation to become that
heated, intense, and revealing.
 
Shaken by our exchange, I took one of the escalators down to the lobby,
walked across it, stepped out onto the sunny sidewalk, and began to walk toward
Wenn as if I was an automaton.
 
My
legs knew where to take me, and they did the job.
 
But another part of me felt crushed by
what couldn’t be, and I’d be a liar if I said that I didn’t feel cheated
because of it.

You had no
choice.
 
What else could you have
done?

Nothing.
 

Ten minutes
later, I stepped into Wenn Enterprises and pressed the elevator button for the
fifty-first floor, which once again would put me directly in Blackwell’s
path.
 

CHAPTER
TEN

Over the next
three days, Blackwell ran me ragged—but it was Brock who was truly unrelenting.

When I first
stepped out of the elevator after having coffee with him, I was still so
unnerved by our conversation that I just passed by Blackwell’s office with a
polite “Good morning” before I went to my desk, turned on my computer, and
checked for any emails.
 
Since I
wasn’t sure whether Brock would respect my wishes to not receive IMs, I went
into my computer’s settings and turned down the volume as low as it would go
without sacrificing my ability to hear if an email or a message did come in for
me.
 
After that, I unpacked my gym
clothes and sneakers and stuffed them into one of my empty desk drawers.

At that point,
Blackwell came out of her office and stood next to my desk.
 
Today she was wearing a red jacket with
black piping at the sleeves, pockets, and hem, a matching knee-length skirt,
nude hose, and a pair of black strapless pumps that were so elegant, I knew
that they’d cost more than my entire outfit.

The Devil Wears
Prada
? I thought.
 
How about The
Devil Wears Chanel?

“Well, well,” she
said.
 
“I have to say that I
approve.
 
That’s
how to dress
for Wenn.
 
Pretty dress.
 
Who made it?”

“Hervé Léger.”

“And here I
thought that you were broke. . . .”

“I bought it
earlier this summer for next to nothing at Century 21.”

“Oh,” she
said.
 
“
That
hellhole.”

“They actually
have designer clothing I can afford.”

“Have you at
least tried Net-a-Porter?”

“Have you seen
their prices?”

“Apparently,
I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be poor.
 
But fair enough.
 
I suppose
we all have to start somewhere, Madison.
 
And I have to say that your dress looks fine, considering the bowels
from which it came.
 
Keep it up.”

Even if I have
to go deeper into debt, I don’t see that I have another choice, lady.

“Is there
anything I can do for you now?” I asked.
 
“Would you like coffee?
 
Ice?”

Cyanide?

“Ice in one
hour—I can already tell it’s going to be one of those days, so you should
know that upfront.”

Great . . .

I made a big
show of taking a note to get that glass of ice to her, and then I turned back
to her with an expectant look on my face.
 
“I’ll have that for you in one hour.
 
Is there anything else you need?”

“Margaret is
going to give you a tour of the building this morning so you’ll know where
every department is located—be prepared for that, and make certain you
memorize the lot of it because by day’s end, with the list I’ve compiled for
you this morning, you’re going to need to know the building intimately if
you’re going to get through all of your tasks in time, which I expect.”

I began to hear
people arriving for work.
 

“I promise that
I won’t let you down again,” I said.

“After
yesterday, I’m not so confident about that, but I guess we’ll see.
 
At eleven, stop whatever you’re
doing.
 
Zack will take you to my dry
cleaner, you’ll pick up the clothes I dropped off last night, and then he’ll
take you to Le Salade, where you’ll fetch me some roughage.
 
I’ll expect my clothes and the salad to
be in this office at noon.
 
And about
the salad.
 
Yesterday, I told you
what you added too much of—and also what you skimped on.
 
So, it should be perfect today,
compris
?”

I’m paying off
Harvard for this?
I thought.

Look at the big
picture, girl.

“I understand,
Ms. Blackwell.”

“Today,
Margaret also is going to give you a new iPhone that I expect you to use
strictly for work-related matters.”

“That won’t be
an issue,” I said.
 
“I have my own
iPhone.”

“Your
generation tends to flock to them like seagulls to a beached whale, so at least
you should have no trouble learning how to use it properly.
 
She’ll also have business cards for you
to hand out to everyone you meet today.
 
On that card will be your new cell phone number, your office number, as
well as your email address.
 
While I
don’t expect you to receive many calls because the card will state that you are
my personal assistant, which alone will induce fear in people, nevertheless
make certain that you have that phone on you at all times, because you never
know when
I
might be calling.”

“By all times,
you mean . . .”

“At all
times.
 
Just as I said.
 
And, yes, that means off-hours.
 
You never know when I might need you for
something.
 
So, if I were you, I’d
keep that phone at my bedside at night.”

She couldn’t be
serious, but of course I knew that she was.
 
I also new that she’d just issued me
another threat.
 
She’d be calling me
off-hours, and I’d need to be ready to answer that call whenever it
happened.
 
Otherwise?
 
I’d fail yet another test.

At that moment,
Brock appeared at my right.
 
Just
seeing him again made my heart leap a little—and then twist into a
knot.
 
Without stopping to say a
word to either of us, he brushed behind Blackwell and moved toward his office.

“Not even a
‘hello,’ Brock?” she said.

He said
nothing.

She folded her
arms as she watched him walk by her.
 
“Well, someone is in a mood. . . .”

He stopped at
the doorway to his office, he hesitated for a moment, and then he turned to
look at her.
 
I thought that the
expression on his face looked completely detached from the moment.
 
Whatever warmth I’d sensed between them
in their previous exchanges was gone.
 
“I have work to do,” he said.
 
“Isn’t that what you expect from me, Barbara?
 
What Alex expects of me?”
 
Before she could answer, he said, “I
thought so.
 
So, if you don’t mind,
I’ll get to work.”

“Fine,” she
said dismissively.
 
“That is what
you’re here for.”

“So it is,” he
said with a curt nod.
 
“I have a
report to write.
 
Have a good day.”

And with that,
Brock went into his office and for the first time since he’d arrived at Wenn,
he closed the door firmly behind him in such a way that it bordered on
aggression.
 
A wave of curiosity
seemed to overcome Blackwell at that moment, and I could sense that a part of
her wanted to go over to his door, open it, and ask him what the hell his
problem was.
 

But then she
just looked at me.
 

“It’s probably
a woman,” she said.
 
“God knows that
Brock has had his share of them.
 
But who knows with that one?
 
I certainly can’t keep track of how many women he has on the side, and I
don’t care to.
 
So I’ll let him
simmer for now.
 
Best to let him
work, anyway, don’t you think?”

I didn’t answer
her.

“Keep an eye
out for Margaret,” she said.

And with that,
Blackwell returned to her office, picked up her phone, and started to talk to
somebody while I just stared at Brock’s closed door.
 
When he entered the office, he hadn’t
looked at me or acknowledged me, not that could I blame him.
 
I’d just shut him down.
 
He’d asked me to stay and finish my
coffee with him, and yet I’d left because I knew that if I had stayed, it only
would have been more difficult to leave.
 

It was enough
to make me want to scream.
 

When Margaret
arrived, she asked me to come to her office.
 
She was an attractive, studious-looking
woman with shoulder-length brown hair and narrow black glasses that reminded me
of Blackwell’s.
 
I figured she was
perhaps just a few years older than I.
 
She handed me an iPhone that looked exactly like the one I had, and then
she gave me a box with my business cards.

“If you could
distribute these to everyone on this floor first, that would be great,” she
said.
 
“And then return to me.
 
We’ve got a lot of ground to cover
today, so I hope you’re properly caffeinated.”

Really?
I thought.
 
Caffeinated?
 
This after my failed cup of coffee with
Brock this morning?
 
And you expect
me to give them to everyone, which also includes Brock?
 
Perfect!

I went to
Brock’s office last.
 
When I knocked
on the door, I heard him say, “Come in,” and then I took a deep breath before I
opened it.
 
When I did, he looked up
at me in surprise.

“Madison,” he
said.

“Margaret asked
me to give everyone my business card,” I said, reaching inside the box and
handing him one.

When he took it
from me, his thick fingers brushed across my own, and I felt that same jolt of
desire I’d felt when we first met.
 
He looked at the card for a moment, and then he leaned it against his
computer screen, a gesture that I thought odd.

“Thank you,” he
said.
 

“About this
morning,” I said in a low voice.
 
“I
didn’t mean to come off so . . .”

“It’s OK,” he
said with a smile.
 
“Don’t worry
about it.
 
You’ll see that I’m not
finished with you yet, Madison.”

Since it was
unsafe for me to respond to that here, I left his office, closed the door
behind me, and on legs that were strangely weak, I went to get Blackwell her
glass of ice.
 
Without looking up
from whatever paperwork she was reading, she checked her watch as I handed her
the glass and shooed me away with a brisk flick of her right hand, and then I
returned to Margaret.

“Are you
ready?” she said.

“I’m ready.”

It was at that
point that my day became wilder than I’d ever anticipated.