Page 28 of Coerced Wife

“It’s nothing personal, just protocol.”

“Protocol? What am I going to do? Steal the stationary?”

He indicates with his arm that I should go ahead. “I’ll walk you.”

With nothing left to say, I go to my desk and gather my handbag and a few personal items under the curious stares of Jasmine and the other junior accountants. Armed with my favorite mug, a porcelain good luck cat that Livy gave me, my calculator, and a pencil case with my colored pens, I follow Zack to the first floor.

He doesn’t speak as he holds the door for me. No good luck and no goodbye. The door shuts behind me with a swoosh, a soft sound announcing that my short career here is over.

I stop on the sidewalk.

I gambled. I lost. I put my money on making myself indispensable so that my employer would overlook my dishonesty. Only, Ms. Price went out of her way to ascertain I’d only be charged with menial tasks, which, on the contrary, made me easily replaceable. Anyway, accountants better qualified than me are available by the dozens, all eager for an opportunity in an established firm.

I look up and down the street, a person without direction or purpose. Adrift. Saverio expects me to finish at five. It’s only eleven in the morning. A distant part of my mind says he’d want me to call him, but I’m like someone in shock who can’t think rationally.

I flag down a taxi, aware of Saverio’s men who get into a car parked farther down the street. I stare numbly through the window as we drive, taking in the scenery without seeing anything until the driver stops in front of Saverio’s house.

Before I can take my purse from my bag, one of the guards opens my door while another takes care of the bill.

I climb the steps to the front door on autopilot and walk like a zombie into the house. Hammering comes from upstairs. I drop the box with my belongings and my bag in the entrance and follow the sound to the room next to Saverio’s.

The bedroom is destruction personified. The panels are ripped off the walls, exposing the naked bricks beneath. Someone knocked out a part of the wall. Through the gaping hole, the main bedroom is visible on the other side.

Saverio stands in the middle of the broken panels and bits of plaster that litter the floor with a ten-pound hammer clutched in his hand. A layer of sweat shines on his naked torso, accentuating his hard, unyielding muscles as if they’ve been rubbed with oil. The veins that run down his arms and branch over his hands are embossed on his skin, drawing a picture of a gladiator in an arena who waits for the lion to be unleashed. White dust covers his ripped jeans and boots, and flakes of plaster are stuck to his hair. The hoop in his ear that I find so deliciously rebellious and sexy glitters as it catches the sunlight that falls through the window.

I look from the hammer around which his large fist is curled to the demolition around him, a frown pulling at my forehead. “What are you doing?”

He takes me in with surprise, his chest heaving as if he’s just completed a strenuous marathon. “Why are youhome so early?” Checking his smartwatch, he says, “I missed the message that you’re on your way.”

Of course, the men following me would’ve informed him. With all the noise, it’s no wonder he didn’t hear the notification.

“Are you sick?” he asks with alarm.

Dejection weighs heavily on my shoulders. “Ms. Lewis fired me.”

He drops the hammer. “She did what?”

The thud when the metal head hits the floor rattles the windowpanes.

“It was to be expected,” I say. “I omitted that I was pregnant on my application.”

Climbing over obstacles, he makes his way to me with determined strides. “That’s unfounded. They can’t discriminate against you because you’re pregnant.”

“They’re downscaling. Ms. Lewis acted within her rights.”

He stops in front of me. “We’ll take them to court. I’ll get you the best lawyer in the country.”

“I don’t want my job back if I have to force it. I’ll find something else.”

He considers that, working his jaw.

I know what’s going through his head. He’s thinking about getting rid of the people who made meunhappy, so I quickly change the subject. “What’s going on in here?” Waving at the chaos, I ask, “Are you renovating?”

He keeps my gaze, staring into my eyes as if he can see right into my soul as he says matter-of-factly, “Baby room.”

I gape at him. “Come again?”

“It was too gloomy in here for a baby with those dark panels. Once I’ve plastered the walls, I can paint them any color you want.” He motions at the hole between the rooms. “I reckoned an adjoining door to our bedroomwould be necessary. That way, we have closer access to the nursery.”

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