Page 37 of Tell Me What You Want

That bugs me at first, but I end up smiling.

Deep down, Eric’s sense of humor appeals to me. I look toward his office and see him sitting in what was once his father’s chair. He’s trying to provoke me, but I don’t plan on playing his games.

Suddenly, my supervisor’s at my desk, blocking our line of vision. “Judith, if someone calls, connect the call to Mr.Zimmerman’s office.”

I don’t open my mouth, just nod. Swinging her hips, my supervisor disappears into Eric’s office and closes the door. I get back to work, and then, midmorning, the door opens again. She emerges with a folder in her hands.

“Judith,” she says, “I’ll be out of the office for one hour. If Mr.Zimmerman needs anything, please take care of it.” Then she turns to Miguel. “Come with me.” Those two!

As soon as they leave, my phone rings. I just know it’s him. I pick up.

“Miss Flores, may I see you in my office, please?”

“Right away, Mr.Zimmerman.”

I get up, go straight to his office, and ask, “How may I help you, Mr.Zimmerman?”

He’s leaning his head back on the black leather headrest.

“Close the door, please,” he says, looking right at me.

I sigh, then feel my skin start to burn. My damned neck is going to give me away, and that irritates me more. But I’m going to ignore it. I close the door.

“Congrats on your Euro Cup win.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Then a thick silence grows between us.

“Did you have a good time last night?” he finally asks.

I don’t respond.

“Who is that guy you kissed and with whom you spent seventeen minutes in the men’s room?” he asks.

Stunned, I stare at him.

“I just asked you a question,” he insists. “Who is it?”

Incensed at what I’m hearing, I try to contain my murderous impulses.

“That is none of your business, Mr.Zimmerman.”

Has he been spying on me?

“And what’s going on between you and my admin?”

He’s gone too far!

I blink a few times. “Look, Mr.Zimmerman, I don’t want to be disagreeable, but everything you’re asking is out of bounds. So if you don’t need anything else from me, I’m going to return to my desk.”

Fuming, and not giving him a chance to respond, I leave his office and shut the door with purpose. Who does he think he is? No sooner do I sit down at my desk than the phone rings again. I curse but still pick up.

“Miss Flores, in my office,now!”

His voice is angry, but so am I. I hang up and head back to his office, exasperated.

He comes around from behind his desk. He sits on it with his arms crossed and his legs apart. He’s trying to intimidate me. The distance between us is diminished. This makes me nervous.

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