Page 65 of Violent Hearts

Chapter 30

Ann

It's already late afternoon by the time I make it to my old workplace. I delayed my visit as late as possible because I was hoping it would mean fewer people would still be there when I arrived. I'm not particularly excited about going there and seeing anyone, and wish I could just avoid it altogether, but that would be cowardly - and a waste of money. Extending my contract to keep my desk for whatever results after my arrangement with Jared ends wouldn't cost so much that it would pose a financial problem, but it feels wrong. My main motivation for keeping it would be because I’m too much of a coward to show up and pack up my things. I have no plans of returning, even after Jared is done with me.

Thinking about the finality of Jared’s and my contract makes me feel sick to my stomach. He may ask me to prolong the contract because a year is a very short period of time to establish a political career. But he only needs me around long enough to get elected to Congress. He claims that’s as far as he's trying to go right now.

"After that, any further aspirations will be based on my achievements in Congress and not on my character credentials." That is what he said, and that is why his campaign managers suggested he only introduce a girlfriend and not a wife. A divorce could hurt his political career a lot more than a simple break-up.

It's all spelled out in the contract.

Soon enough, I will no longer be needed.

But not yet. I cast the sorrowful thoughts aside and gather myself, remembering who I am. I'm pretty good at keeping my heart safe from harm. I'm strong, I'm smart, I'm independent. Growing up with a man like my father and an older brother who inherited all of his bad traits can do that to a woman. Sometimes I feel like I should almost be grateful that they were such assholes. Otherwise, I wouldn't be the person I am today - and I kind of like that person.

I took the bus to my old office, even though I know that Jared would hate it if he knew I had taken public transportation. He told me to always use one of his drivers when I needed to go anywhere, but I just can't get used to that. It feels excessive and unnecessary. Besides, showing up in a fancy limousine with a personal driver would definitely attract the kind of attention that I'm trying to avoid at all costs. I just want to sneak in, clear out my desk, leave the key, and sneak out as quickly as possible.

Of course, that's not at all what life has planned for me today.

I take a deep breath before I use my IC card to get access to the building that had been my second home for so long. I used to love coming here, in the beginning. That was before I started that damn adventure with Brandon and doubting my decision to be a freelance reporter. I should have known that money and living the dream don't come hand in hand; they almost never do. Still, I guess in a way one could say that working as a journalist brought me closer to my goal of not having to work by the time I'm thirty - just not how I suspected it would.

I'm smiling as this thought bounces around inside my head. It may only be born out of a desire to legitimize a decision I still don't feel entirely comfortable with, but it makes me happy nonetheless.

My smile fades when I enter the loft space that serves as the main working area for most of the people who work at fixed desks here. The place is pretty crowded today, and I'm greeted with a lot more familiar faces than I was hoping to see.

I reciprocate the smiles left and right, only greeting everybody in passing as I make my way over to my old desk at the far end of the space. My face sinks when I see the person I was hoping to avoid.

Brandon doesn't smile at me, but he does get up from his seat when I reach my desk. He walks around the table, obnoxiously leaning against my former work space and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He looks at me with a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He looks as if he's getting ready to interrogate me.

"Long time no see," he says. "You pretty much disappeared into thin air. Care to tell me what happened?"

I roll my eyes at him. "No. Not really."

My eyes scan the desk, trying to figure out how much stuff I have to take with me and how much of the piles of notes and magazines I collected from my research can be thrown away. A treacherous grin appears on my face when I see the agency's small booklet on top of one of the piles. It makes sense, since this was the last project I worked on before...

"Are you sure?" Brandon probes, running his fingers through his blond hair. It has gotten significantly longer since I last saw him, making him look even more like a pretty surfer boy, minus the tan.

"Because there are rumors," he adds. "Not sure, but wouldn’t you rather clear those up?"

I sit down on my desk chair and am just about to open one of the drawers when his words make me stop mid-motion. I tried to ignore him and evade eye contact, hoping he'd just leave me alone.

The obnoxious grin tells me enough to know that he couldn't be happier about earning back my attention just now.

"Rumors are always more exciting than the truth," I tell him. "I wouldn't get my hopes up if I was you."

He snorts disparagingly. "So, you don't even want to know what's being said about you?"

He's just trying to intimidate me, I know that. I've been to a few public outings with Jared, so it's unlikely that no one here has seen a picture of me hanging on to Jared's arm as his girlfriend. Our story even included the truth about my career background, so there's no big secret about me working previously as a journalist.

But all anyone could derive from these pictures or the very few words that have been written about me is the fact that I'm Jared's girlfriend. A girlfriend who put a hold on her own career to support her boyfriend. Nothing wrong with that.

I shake my head. "No, I don't. You must be bored out of your mind if rumors about me excite you."

"You're fucking Jared King," he says, spitting the words out of his mouth with disgust. "That handsome business mogul. A sales prodigy, they call him. Getting ready for his next big step. He's trying to run for Congress, isn't he?"

So he has seen the pictures and the reports.

"So that's your juicy rumor? That I'm dating Jared? Everyone with access to the internet or a local newspaper knows that," I say, shrugging as I try to appear unimpressed. "Big deal. And since when is it any of your business who I'm dating?"

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