Page 2 of Coerced Kiss

“You look tired,” he says.

Only, he’s not looking at me. He’s peering through the window behind me with a nervous twitch of his eyes.

What does he see that makes him so jumpy? I follow his gaze. The Meatpacking District of New York City stretches behind us under a blanket of lights. The top floor of the red-brick building that houses Frank Lewis’s accounting firm looks out over the High Line and the Hudson River in the distance. The prime location alone is proof of his hard-earned success.

His voice reaches me from farther away. “Don’t forget to check that the guard sets the alarm when you leave.”

When I face forward again, he’s crossing the reception area in the dim light of the desk lamp. The click of the door announces his exit.

I chew my nail as I contemplate his uncharacteristic behavior. Judging by the big clients on his books, the firm is thriving. Then again, anything can look good on paper. I knowthat better than anyone. I hope the business is secure. Without a diploma, I won’t find a similar job anywhere in the city, and I can’t live in Livy’s building without paying rent forever. My position in the firm is nothing but charity. That’s why I’m working three times harder than everyone else. I want to show Mr. Lewis how grateful I am for his faith in me as much as I want to prove that I’m capable. Plus, there’s my professional pride. I don’t like failing. Until my probation period is over, nothing is certain. Once Mr. Lewis has signed my permanent contract, I’ll breathe easier. I’ll make sure he never regrets employing me. I’m not afraid of long hours and hard work.

Guilt needles my conscience when I think about the fact I omitted in my application. I must make myself indispensable before my secret becomes known. I hate lying. I just didn’t see another way. I can only hope Mr. Lewis will forgive me.

Rubbing my eyes that burn from tiredness, I push away the troubling thoughts and focus on the number puzzle in front of me. It’s not going to solve itself.

“Come on,” I coax. “Don’t be so stubborn. Give it to me. You know you want to.”

I do a few more subtractions, and then the erroneous formula jumps out at me.

“Gotcha,” I say with a victorious grin aimed at the screen.

I save the balance statement and email it to Mr. Lewis so that he can look it over first thing in the morning. He’d want to send it to the client as soon as possible.

My back is sore from being bent over my computer for hours. I stand and stretch to relieve the ache in my muscles. I should take better care of myself. The salad I gobbled down at my desk more than four hours ago wasn’t enough to sustain me. I’m already hungry again.

I grab my bag and do a quick tour of the floor to switch off the hallway lights. Mr. Lewis is a stickler for saving costs, and rightly so. We’re in the middle of a worldwide energy crisis.

The lock on the door is electronic. It opens with a code typed into a keypad. Locking up requires nothing more than shutting the door behind me. After flicking off the light switch on the landing, I take the elevator to the lobby where the night guard sits behind the reception desk.

“Hey, Zack.” I smile. “What are you reading tonight?”

He lifts his book to show me the cover.

“Another horror novel?” I bend sideways to read the title. “Is it good?”

He grins. “It certainly keeps me awake.”

“Well, that’s positive then,” I tease. “We can’t have you sleeping on the job, can we?”

“You’ll be sleeping on the job if you keep up the late hours.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” I tease. “It’s the first time I workedthislate.”

“You should’ve left with Mr. Lewis.” Zack earmarks the page and closes the book. “He could’ve walked you home. It’s not safe for a woman out alone at this hour. You just missed him with a couple of seconds. If you hurry, you can catch up with him. He’s heading toward the subway on Fourteenth Street and Eighth Avenue.”

“I don’t live far,” I say thoughtfully, stuck on what Zack said about Mr. Lewis leaving shortly before. “Wait. I thought Mr. Lewis left twenty minutes ago.”

“He came downstairs but went to the archive room.”

“The archive room?”

“He said he needed to do some filing.”

That’s odd. We have dedicated staff for filing, and Mr. Lewis never sets foot in the dusty underground vault. Whenever heneeds a document, he calls down and asks that it’s brought to his office.

“Best get going now,” Zack says. “Don’t let Mr. Lewis get too far ahead.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say on my way to the door, still puzzled about the information Zack shared.

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