Page 18 of Very Bad Things

“This man showed up announced to your home, gaining access to your building just because he owns it,” I say aloud, attempting to hype myself up. “You can do this.”

“Just do it, lady,” a man says, nearly bumping into me on the sidewalk, “and get outta the way.”

I take his advice and walk into the building, heading toward the elevators.

“Ma’am, excuse me, ma’am. You need to check in.” A security guard chases after me, his keys jangling at his side. “Who are you here to see?”

“Oh, um, Weston Vaughn.”

“And is Mr. Vaughn expecting you?”

“Yup,” I say confidently. He gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe me. “You can call him and ask,” I say, praying it works like it does in the movies and he’ll just usher me to where I need to go.

He motions for me to follow him as he walks over to the front desk. He walks behind it, picking up a receiver and pushing a few buttons.

Shit, no such luck.

“Afternoon, sir. Sorry to bother you but I have a—” He looks at me.

“Daphne Flowers.”

“A Miss Flowers here to see you, she says you’re exp—okay, okay, absolutely, sir. Thank you.”

He hangs up the phone and looks up at me. I swallow hard, expecting him to laugh and show me the door but he points toward the elevators. “His office is on the ninetieth floor.”

“Thank you,” I spin around, my heels clicking on the floor as I walk to the elevator.

The doors open on the ninetieth and I poke my head out, looking around. I don’t know what I was expecting his office to look like, but it wasn’t this. For some reason I thought it would be loud, people bustling around with sounds of phones and constant chatter. It’s completely serene, soft music playing from speakers overhead with ambient lighting and a large water feature adding some relaxing nature sounds. The walls of the wide hallway are adorned with art, large plants in every corner.

“Mr. Vaughn’s office is straight ahead,” a woman says to me, causing me to jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay.” I rest my hand on my chest as I look over to the right where her desk sits in a semi-private office. She must be the admin I spoke to on the phone. Her dark-auburn hair is swept off her face, soft-pink blush accentuating her high cheekbones. I smile and walk straight ahead until I reach a large wooden door that’s ajar. I knock softly, unsure if I should barge in.

“If you’re going to show up to my office unannounced and demand my attention, at least come in with some authority.” Mr. Vaughn opens the door, swiftly ushering me into his office.

“Afternoon to you too.” I step into his office and he closes the door behind me.

“What can I do for you, Miss Flowers?” He makes no attempt to hide his exasperation.

“Well, I thought it was obvious, but I’m here regarding the Crestwood Bake Sale and Silent Auction.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” he says dismissively as he walks back to his desk and sorts through a stack of papers.

“Seriously?” I ask, instantly irked. “I mentioned it at the beginning of the year. You are the only parent who hasn’t signed up for any volunteer duties or activities this year.”

“Why didn’t you reach out to my admin? This is something she can take care of for me. And for fuck’s sake, don’t make me remind you again that meetings like this could have been an email.”

Back to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, I see.

“I did!” I say a little more sternly than intended but it gets his attention. He drops the paper he’s holding and looks up at me. “I sent two texts to you about it over a week ago that went unanswered, and then I left a message with your admin about it two days ago and still nothing. Not to mention the weekly recap email every parent receives with an entire section titledHow Can I Get Involved?”

“Is this how you got the others to volunteer? By chasing them down and harassing them at work?” He leans back in his chair, his hands folded in his lap like he’s sizing me up. He crooks a brow at me. “Well, are you waiting for my permission to tell me your demands? You’ve got my attention for two minutes, Miss Flowers.”

“No, here’s my proposed plan. You work the main booth for a minimum of two hours at the bake sale and you list a weekend at one of your vacation homes or your private yacht, your choice, for the silent auction.” I straighten my shoulders, attempting to sound authoritative.

A grin slowly spreads across his face. “Is that right?” He stands up, walking around his desk and sitting on the front of it. He wraps his long fingers around the edge of the desk, causing his exposed forearms to flex. I have to stop myself from staring too long, imagining what those arms would feel like pinning me to the bed as he slides inside me.

“Yes.” I pull my eyes back up to his with a jerk. He’s looking at me like he knows exactly what image just flashed across my brain.

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