Page 19 of Her Dark Salvation

He moved for his office, and I exhaled, relieved to be left alone with my work.

“Before you get started…”

I swiveled my chair to meet the interruption.

“I’ll need my breakfast.”

The statement came out so matter-of-fact, I nodded in agreement. Of course, he needed his breakfast.

And then it hit me. I shook my head and blinked. “Excuse me?”

“My breakfast. Coffee and a pastry. Pick it up from Caffè del Vecchio Mondo.”

This time it wasn’t self-consciousness that threatened to turn my face bright red. He’d just pushed the only button that sent my temper straight to DEFCON 1.

“You want me… to get you coffee.” The words came out slow and searing, vitriol equal to his demeaning request.

He released his grip on the door handle and shifted his weight to face me in full. “Yes. I take my caffè americano with a splash of cream. And today I want a cornetto.”

My jaw clamped shut, teeth clenched so tightly they hurt. He had to have heard the tone in my voice and seen the redness that burned my cheeks, yet he mocked me with an air of indifference. My neck and face heated like a volcano ready to erupt.

“What type of filling?” I asked with enough deathly sarcasm to murder his ears.

Neither his body nor his face displayed any hint of remorse. “Vuoto,” he said after a moment. As if he’d truly considered what he wanted. As if my insincere question deserved a sincere answer. His response ripped through my remaining decorum like an armor-piercing bullet.

“I’m trying to figure out if this desktop can meet the computing demands of running stochastic simulations of complex financial models, and you want me to walk three blocks in these heels to get you coffee?” My voice gained volume with each outraged word.

He folded his arms across his chest. “Yes.”

Indignation forced me to my feet. Every instance of being mistaken for someone’s admin, every assumption I’d be the one to take notes in a meeting, every casual request to bring in coffee and donuts roared into my head, and lava spewed out the mouth of the volcano. “There’s a Dunkin’ Donuts around the block!” I pointed at the elevator. “Get your own coffee!”

The muscle in his jaw twitched, the first and only sign my words had any impact. He dropped his arms and stepped forward until only inches separated us, the heat of his body stoking the heat of my anger.

“That coffee is American trash. And you are my administrative assistant.” He over-enunciated thets in his last two words and canted his head. “Remember?”

My chest heaved with furious breath.

“My admin gets my coffee and breakfast every morning, and it comes from Caffè del Vecchio Mondo.” He leaned in, forcing me to look up to maintain eye contact. “And if we want everyone to believe you are her replacement, you’ll do the same.”

I ground my teeth on my nonexistent retort and the bitter taste of the truth and concentrated my disdain into a single venomous look. I grabbed my new handbag and marched to the coat rack, fuming.

“Make sure it’s extra hot,” he called after me. “I hate cold coffee.”

My head snapped back to slay him with a fresh wave of daggers, but he’d already walked into his office, and I impaled the closed office door instead.

* * *

“I was goingto wait until the next time we had lunch”—I brushed past Jeff into his Back Bay townhouse—“but after today…”

I wobbled a few more steps so I could set my new bag on the entry table instead of the floor even though hard leather rubbed mercilessly against my little toes and cut into the backs of my heels. I stumbled for what must have been the hundredth time that day and yelped in frustration. I kicked off the obnoxious shoes and sent them flying to bank off the wall.

“I fuckinghatethose things!”

Jeff’s dog Lady trotted over to where they landed next to the door and sniffed the offensive torture devices.

“Tough day at the office, love?” Michael called from the kitchen.

I didn’t respond. I was too busy glaring at Jeff. My best friend eyed me warily.

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