Page 190 of Savage Suit
“Maintenance probably has stronger glue,” he said, “but I can get you something for pain. Would you like water?”
“Mexican Coke?” I asked hopefully.
He glanced in Noah’s direction and swallowed.
“It’s okay, Billy,” I said quickly. “You didn’t know I preferred them over regular Coke. I’ll just take water.”
“I’ll order a supply of Mexican Coke especially for you,” Billy swore. “How many do you drink a day?”
“You mean a week? Three. Four, at most,” I said.
“I’ll take care of you,” he said, rushing off just as Mrs. Mikes returned with a pair of scissors.
I leaned my head back, unable to watch her cut the most expensive pair of pants I’d ever bought myself.
“Are you okay?”
At Reid’s question, I lifted my head, wincing when Mrs. Mikes brushed against my knee. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I said, hoping my fall, the reason for it, wasn’t on the internet yet.
“Why wouldn’t you be?” Noah snarled, speaking for the first time since I’d arrived. “Why wouldn’t you be?” he repeated, sounding like he’d dropped in for a visit from hell. “Possibly because you were fucking chased down the goddamn street. You could’ve been hit by a fucking car or trampled.”
“Oh, my,” Mrs. Mikes said at the worst possible moment as she stepped back to answer the phone again.
It drew everyone’s eyes to my knee. There wasn’t much blood. It was scraped, but I was quite sure the fucking swelling warranted her reaction.
“Do you know why this happened to you, Ms. Hagen?”
I kept my face expressionless. Noah had gone white, but the torture in his eyes broke my heart. “Yes, Mr. Keegan. Fucking assholes don’t know how to back off.”
“No, you work in my company. I paraded you in front of the media, not thinking what a target it would make you.”
Alarm danced down my spine, but Billy’s return interrupted anything I might have said. When he glanced at my knee and winced, I wanted to kick him. Instead, I snatched the ibuprofen from him, popped them in my mouth, and washed them down with water.
“Anything special you’d like for lunch?” he asked.
“No,” Noah answered. “She won’t be here for lunch.”
“Why?” I asked carefully. “You want me to rest my knee or you’re implying I’m fired?”
He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t get the words out. It gave me a little bit of hope I’d convince him my life was in no danger. How I handled these next few minutes would make or break my job. My relationship, too.
I couldn’t be with someone who needed to dictate any part of my life. Most especially my ability to earn money.
Our locked gazes didn’t block out our audience. Everyone had fallen silent. Still, Reid and Nicholas, standing next to Noah, had a reason for awaiting my arrival.
“Come and see my knee for yourself,” I told him.
Where he stood wouldn’t allow him a particularly good assessment.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he glanced away, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“I want a lobster roll for lunch, Billy,” I said, not taking my eyes off Noah. “Regular Coke is fine.”
“Okay, Ryan. When do you want it?”
“As soon as possible. I’m starving.”
“You got it,” Billy promised, lumbering off.
