Page 103 of Van Cort
There were glimpses when we were at his place - the orders and the commands, but they were gentle in contrast to yesterday. Like he was coaxing me. Was what he unleashed on me yesterday the real side of him?
Maybe making him frustrated when I stand up to him might do him some good.
The problem remains that I’m still angry, though. I’m still mad because he believes he’s right, and I’m not sure he knows how to see anything if it’s a different perspective than his own.
I guess I’ll find out in a few hours.
First, I need to check in on my actual job, despite his contractual obligation crap. It might be temporary, but I’m also not stupid enough not to plan for the fact that he, as my current… boyfriend? I’m not even sure, shouldn’t also control my career.
Visiting my actual employer before dawn will mean not running into anyone.I hope.
Making the familiar route to work gives me time to work out the fury still burning – and I’m equally annoyed that some of it is directed internally. Nobody is a harsher critic of me than myself. Well, I’m sure Everett could be, if he chose to be.
The lobby is only occupied by the receptionist and a security guard at the front desk, both of whom offer no question as to why I’m here at the crack of dawn. There’s no way I’ll risk being late to the office with Everett, not after yesterday and the gracious way I left.
The office floor is blissfully quiet, and I revel in the fact that I’ll be uninterrupted while here – in out, nobody needs to know,and I can check in on the pitch project that I was meant to be part of until Everett.
“Oh, good morning, Ms…” Mr Whitham stops in front of me and raises his brows.
I freeze. “Anderson, Sir. Good morning.” My smile is automatic.
“Ah, yes.” He tilts his head. “You’re working with Van Cort still?” His eyes narrow on me as he wags his finger in my direction.
“Yes, I am.” I stroke my skirt, smoothing the wrinkles. “I’m just following up on one of my clients. I didn’t think it would be a problem coming in early.”
“Has Mr Van Cort shared any specifics as to his current portfolio? What he’s looking for?” He turns and ushers me without making physical contact towards my office.
“No, Sir. He’s asked me to review a single company with limited exposure to others.”
“Well, keep us informed. He’s certainly not the client to disappoint, and he’d certainly see your position here improve.” He takes a casual look around, as if my current position is beneath him. Which, technically, it is. “Depending on his review of your performance, you understand.” He smiles, but it’s not quite polite. More of a pleasant reminder.
Great. Not only have I been sleeping with, dating, and potentially falling head over heels for Everett Van Cort, but he now holds my future job prospects in his hands. It’s like he can antagonise me without even trying.
***
Deliberating over walking right into Everett’s office or not frustrates me. I want to out of spite, especially after yesterdayand his arrogance about ‘no one ever walks in’, but I eye the new woman behind the desk who’s guarding the door and reconsider.
So, I take a seat on the chair she shows me to.
The clock passes seven fifty-eight, fifty-nine.
On the strike of eight, the door opens and he walks out, buttoning his suit.
I stand, run my hand down my skirt, and square my shoulders.
“Good morning, Ms Anderson.”
“Mr Van Cort.”
“Devon, will you go and check that Ms Anderson’s office is ready?”
“Of course.” She stands and strides out and down the hall.
“So, are we going to be cordial today?” he asks.
“That’s up to you. Do you intend to fuck me to try and get me to do as you want?”
“So, not cordial, then.” His response doesn’t stop the corners of his lips tipping up.
