Page 20 of Addicted

She shrugged, leaning back onto her desk. I knew this Denny. She didn’t want to talk, she felt like showing me this made her weak. This woman. This fucking woman.Breathe, Hugh.

“What do you need?”

It was the second time I’d asked that question today. The first was in my office earlier.

I knew she had a panic disorder, but it was the first time I’d ever seen her have an attack. It had scared the shit out of me at first, but once I got her to focus, she was able to take her control back.

But this was different. This wasn’t about getting her to breathe and calm her heart rate. She was hurt and afraid. I couldn’t fix the hurt, but I could fix the fear.

She walked around her desk and sat down, opening up her email.

“I need to work,” she said.

Fuck work.

I frowned but kept my voice even. “Denise.”

“It’s—probably not even what you think.” She stuttered on the lie.

“And what exactly do I think?” My tone was ice. I was standing so close to her, I could see her lip tremble as she struggled not to cry.

She reached out toward me, but she stopped herself. Her eyes were wide and for the first time, I could see how exhausted she was. Shame flashed across her face. I had to ball my fists to stop myself from reaching for her.

She took a breath and turned back to her computer.

“If the flirting is done and you’re not planning on fucking me, you can go. I have a lot of work to do, and so do you.” She was trying to match my tone, but the frost wasn’t there, all I could hear was humiliation and pain.

Without acknowledging her words, I turned and walked out the door, shutting it behind me.

I pulled my phone from my pocket as I walked, opening LinkedIn, and navigating to my notifications to find Cleo’s name. A few clicks showed me her website and I dialed the number and put the phone to my ear, shutting my office door.

“This is Cleo Johnson.”

In any other circumstance, I’d have commented on her immaculate code-switching, but I didn’t have time.

“It’s Hugh. Did what I think happen last night?”

There was a long pause on her end before she answered.

“I maced him… How did you get my number?”

Of course, she maced him. I smiled at her question.

“If you’re going to cyberstalk someone, you should set your settings to private,” I teased.

“People can see when I look at them?!” The screech was blistering. I pulled the phone from my ear.

“Cleo. Let me help.” It wasn’t a question, I’m sure she heard that.

“He should be out tonight. Maybe you can swing by and change the locks?”

“Will do,” I said, looking at my calendar and deciding which meetings I could push.

“Is she okay?” Cleo asked, her tone worried.

“She will be,” I assured her.

I hung up the phone and saw Cleo had sent me Denise’s address. I hoped to God that man was gone because if he wasn’t…

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