Under His Spell (8 page)

“You’re awfully jumpy,” he said, his eyes
narrowing.

Kennedy shook her head, trying to laugh
off his suspicion.
 
“I was just very
focused,” she said.
 
“Or didn’t you
say I should be more focused?”

“Don’t throw my words back in my face,”
he told her.
 
 

“I can’t win.”

“You shouldn’t even be trying to win.”

She sighed.
 
“Fine.
 
I give up.”

“Actually, I don’t think you’ve given
up.
 
And that’s a problem.”

Kennedy shut down her computer, grateful
for the opportunity to do so.
 
It
was well after six o’clock in the evening and clearly Easton was leaving for
the day.
 
She stood up.
 
“I got everything done on that list you
made for me,” she said, still not meeting his penetrating gaze.

“That’s good,” Easton said.
 
“You’ve earned a day off.”

“What does that mean?”
 
Now she looked at him, searching his
face for an explanation.

He smiled, enjoying her confusion.
 
“After my meeting with Red tomorrow,
I’ve got a few other things to attend to out of the office.”

“There’s nothing like that on your
calendar.”

His smile faded.
 
“Not everything I have to do in my life
is subject to your approval.
 
In
fact, nothing I do in my life is subject to your approval.”

She looked down.
 
“I know that.
 
I just wanted to come into work
tomorrow.
 
Even if you won’t be
here, I’m sure there’s plenty for me to do.”

“No, there isn’t.
 
As it was, I’d assumed you’d take a
couple of days to finish what I gave you earlier.”

Kennedy had to stifle her laughter,
thinking how she’d actually finished his tasks in less than two hours, and here
he was telling her he’d thought it would have taken her two days to complete.
 

Didn’t he get who he was dealing with
yet?

 
“So now I’m being punished for finishing
my work in a timely manner.”

His smile came back.
 
“Kennedy, most people don’t think of a
day off as punishment.”

“Well, I’m not most people.”

“Clearly.
 
But be that as it may, you
will
take tomorrow off.”

“Fine.”
 
She felt tears burning and stinging at
her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of
seeing how much he affected her.

Shouldering her purse, she turned away
from him and started out of the suite, wanting to get out of there before she
started bawling like a baby in front of him.
 
Kennedy knew that she was overreacting,
but somehow his dismissal of her, the way he acted like the previous night
hadn’t even happened—it was all too much.

“Kennedy,” Easton called after her.
 

“I get it,” she replied opening the door
to the suite and moving into the hallway.

“Get back here right now,” he commanded,
and his tone was so stern and compelling that she actually did as he said,
without even questioning or hesitating.

She walked back into the office, shaking
a little, her eyes bleary from unshed tears.
 
“Okay,” she sighed.
 
“What?”

He looked at her evenly.
 
“Don’t run out of here like a petulant
child.
 
You work for me, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”
 
She tried but didn’t quite succeed in
keeping the resentment from her voice.

“I told you to take tomorrow off, but I
wasn’t finished with you.”

“Oh.”
 
She made eye contact with him, and her
heart seized up from the thrill that it gave her—even with all the
conflicting emotions she was feeling.

A small twitch of a grin started to
appear on his face.
 
“Tomorrow
evening, I’ve made a reservation at the Affinia Dumont Hotel.”

Her brow creased.
 
“Okay.
 
Is there something you need from me?”

“Yes, I need you to meet me there
tomorrow at eight o’clock sharp.”

She saw the hunger in his eyes, and
suddenly her legs were shuddering, remembering his touch again, recalling what
he could do to her.
 
“Of course,
I’ll be there if you want me.”

“I do,” he said, nodding.
 
“Only this time, you’re to figure out
what I want from you without me having to say it.
 
You’ll service me, and you’ll give me
what I want, but I won’t be telling you specifically what that is.
 
I believe you’re smart enough to solve
the problem, Kennedy.
 
But I guess
we’ll find out for sure tomorrow at eight.”

She was stunned.
 
“I don’t understand.”

“Well, you have the day to come to some
understanding.
 
I’ll see you at the
hotel, Kennedy.”
 
And then he was
walking past her, as she stood like a statue, stunned and confused with her
heart racing yet again.
 
As he went
past, Easton reached out and caressed her cheek.

And then he was gone and she was alone.

***

When she got home, there was a note waiting
for her in the apartment.

She saw it as she was putting her things
down on the table, taking off her earrings, letting out a deep breath and
trying to shake off the residual emotions from the day.
 
She felt wrung out, like a sponge that
had been used way past its expiration date.

And then she turned and her eye caught
something on the floor, just inside the apartment.
 
How had she not seen it when she first walked
in?

Kennedy crossed to the entryway, bent
down and picked it up.
 
It was an
envelope and it had her name printed on it in blue ink.
 

Oh,
God.
 
What now?

She opened the envelope, which hadn’t
been sealed shut, and took out a single sheet of lined paper that had been
folded neatly in thirds.
 
Setting
the envelope on the table, she opened the piece of paper, hoping against hope
that the note was from Easton.

Maybe
he’s going to give me some instructions about tomorrow.

But no.

The instant she saw the first line, she
knew that it was from Blake and her stomach flipped and rolled.

“Shit,” she muttered wearily.

She started reading, wishing that she could
just tear it up and throw it out.
 
Why had she ever had the unlucky accident of moving in next to him?
 
Why hadn’t she sensed that he was
obsessive and crazy in the beginning, before she’d let him into her life?

The letter was short enough.
 
She read it quickly, wanting to get it
over with, like tearing off a bandage.

Kennedy,

I
can’t ignore the way we left things the other day.
 
I care far too much about you to just go
away and pretend that none of it matters.

The
fact is, it does matter.
 
You matter
a great deal to me.

Maybe
you can’t understand why, maybe you’re too scared of your own feelings, too
scared of what it means for someone to see you the way I see you.
 

But
I need to explain to you that I am concerned about the path you’re going down
with your boss, Easton Rather.
 
We
both know that he’s not good for you and that he’s only going to hurt you if
you continue to put yourself in this position.

Even
if you and I don’t end up together, I will always want what’s best for
you.
 
I want you to be happy,
Kennedy.
 
Can HE say that about
you?
 
Or does he put his own
feelings and needs ahead of yours?
 
Be honest with yourself and you’ll have to admit that I’m being
accurate.

I
don’t know how you’ll take this letter.
 
I hope you’ll accept it in the spirit it’s intended, with love and
respect.
 
I really do hope that
you’ll look back at how I’ve behaved and the things I’ve said to you, and
you’ll start to see that all of it comes from a place of deep respect.

I
respect you, Kennedy.
 
Do you
respect yourself?

Can
you take the leap and make some hard decisions that might be difficult in the
short term, but will lead to greater happiness in the long run?

I
believe you can.
 
I hope you
can.
 
Please don’t ignore this
letter, and please don’t throw me away just because I tell you things you don’t
always want to hear.

Some
people call that being a good friend.
 
Some people might say that such a friend is worth more than all the gold
in the world.
 
Maybe that person is
worth more than even being treated just as a friend—maybe that type of
person is the one you’re meant to be with forever and ever.

Regardless,
I will never stop believing in you.

With
Love,

Blake
 

The first thing that struck her was that
Blake had used Easton’s full name, spelling it correctly.
 
Previously, he’d been unable to even
pronounce Easton’s name without screwing it up, and she’d never told Blake
Easton’s last name.

Her stomach was in knots, as she realized
that there was only one reasonable explanation for the change, which was that
Blake must have done some research and found out who Easton was.

Why
did you tell him all of that?
 
Why
did you tell him your damn life story, Kennedy?
 
He knows more about you then anybody
else in the world, and he’s obviously a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

She put her hand to her forehead and
closed her eyes.

Now what was she supposed to do?
 

She had half a mind to go and bang on his
door until he opened it, and then give him hell.
 
How dare he continue to harass her like
this?
 
How dare he sit in judgment,
giving opinions on how she chose to live her life?

But she didn’t do it.
 
Instead, she took a few deep breaths and
calmed down just a fraction.
 
The
recipe for Blake was purely to ignore him.

Ignore
him until he moves on, goes away.
 
Eventually he’ll have to get the hint.

But would he?
 
Would he get the hint? She
wondered.
 
Because so far, Blake
seemed completely impervious to the clear messages she’d been sending him,
messages that should have shown a reasonable man that she wasn’t interested.

Kennedy started to crumble the letter
into a ball, ready to toss it in the trash and to try and forget she’d ever
read it.
 
Then she realized that she
might need it some day.

Need
it for what?

Evidence
of harassment.

Oh,
no.
 
Please don’t let him be one of
those guys.
 
Please.

But the more she thought about it, the
more convinced Kennedy became that Blake was trouble, and that she needed to
tread cautiously.

You
don’t know him at all.
 
You know
nothing about him, other than he thinks he’s in love with you and believes he
knows how you should live your life.

Sure,
he’s a little nuts—but not violent.
 
Not that crazy.

Still, I’ll save the letter, she
thought.
 
Just in case.

She took it, folded it, put it back in
the envelope, and slipped the envelope into a drawer in the kitchen, hoping
she’d never have cause to look at it again.

***

The next day, Kennedy drove her car to go
shopping for clothes for her “date” with Easton.
 
She’d slept decently, despite the fact
that Blake had written her that disturbing letter and Easton had given her a
problem to solve without enough information to truly come up with any
satisfying answer.

In fact, she didn’t know what it meant
that he’d made a reservation at the swanky hotel and asked her to meet him
there.