Page 98 of Break the Ice
Jerry taps her knuckles on the door when I’m in the middle of typing up an email. “I saw the schedule said you were only going to be in the office for a half day.”
“That’s right.”
“Will you be available for pressers?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Have you cleared your absence with Mr. Beringer?”
“Jerry,” I say, pausing in the middle of typing another word, “it’s none of your concern. You’re Mr. Hawk’s assistant. I suggest you play your role.”
The pleasant expression drops off her face. She grips the doorknob to my office tighter and says, “I apologize. I’ll leave you alone. I know you have a flight to catch.”
She’s gone from the doorway in the next second.
My fingers tap away at my keyboard until I’ve typed the last word in the email. I’m clicking send when a new thought occurs to me. I look up at the doorway where Jerry was only moments before, and then I’m up on my feet.
The buildings emptier than usual this late in the afternoon. Everyone who would usually be around at this time is at Climate Pledge for tonight’s game.
I turn down the corridor that leads up to Mr. Hawk’s office. As his personal assistant, Jerry sits in the lobby portion. Since it’s only been a minute, I’ve caught her just as she’s sitting down at her desk. I push open the glass door with my brows knitted.
She puts on a smile as if amused that I’ve followed. “Ms. March, did you need something?”
“How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That I was catching a flight.”
The humor I thought I saw on her face flickers for real this time. “What do you want me to say? I’ve been keeping a very close eye on you.”
25. Rafe
“Sugar,” I growl into the automated voice recording. “Pick up the fucking phone. We need to meet up.”
The recording beeps in my ear signifying the time runs out. I clench my phone and almost chuck it at the glass window. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve broken that window in a fit of rage—or any of the windows in my condo.
I’ve been trying to get a hold of Marisse since this weekend.
We left off on bad terms.
Tensions ran high. Emotions were raw. The draw between us was explosive. We didn’t know if we wanted to fuck, spill our hearts out, or rip each other apart. The result was some fucked up combination of all three.
We spilled out hearts out, fucked, and by the end, we were still enemies.
Even worse than that—we were enemies that wanted to be lovers but were too damn stubborn to admit it.
I needed to know Marisse was all in as partners in this game and she needed to know if she could trust me. Two things that were basically different sides of the same coin.
By the end, we reached an impasse. She’s been ignoring me ever since. The longer it goes on, the more my temper rages and I come close to smashing things. Anything within reach.
More than a couple times, I’m watching the tracker I’ve planted in her purse, obsessively staring at the blinking dot that shows her whereabouts at her apartment. Even more times than I can count, I’m a breath away from showing up at her place to force her hand.
The rest of the day goes by in this manner—me in a raging bad mood demanding Marisse return my calls and texts. What little of the sun we had is setting by the time I say fuck it and make good on my obsessive nature. I hop into my Corvette and speed over to Alki Beach.
Marisse isn’t home. The tracker shows that she is but she must’ve left her purse behind.
I sit in the dark silence of her apartment for three fucking hours, and she doesn’t come home.
