I look to both Jake and Forrest, both of whom have been scared silent throughout the entire process. I’m too anxious to feel pride.
They nod—even Jake--and I deliver the message. “We happily agree.”
Duke stares at me for a long minute, his stony expression unreadable. And just when I think he’s going to call an end to the whole deal, he says, “I’ll have the contracts drawn up.”
I hold my breath until after he leaves the room. It comes out in one giant gasp.
Forrest’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “I have no idea where that came from, but I like it!”
Jake seems much less enthused, but he’s not bitching about the deal, so that’s something.
Meanwhile, I’m shaking from the adrenaline rush. But beneath my nerves something more ominous lingers, a kind of deep foreboding about what this deal will mean for me and Duke. Negotiation should leave a person empowered, confident. I’m all that, but I’m also ridiculously turned on. And that isn’t a feeling I should have, especially now that Duke is my boss.
Duke re-enters the room with a stack of paperwork. He sets them on the boardroom table without a word, and pours himself a glass of water from the decanter. Sunlight hits it and rainbow prism reflects onto the wall.
I read through the contract, the Non-Disclosure Agreement, the long list of employee rules, dutifully signing and initialing. My heart races. I can hardly wait to share the news with…
A lump forms in my throat.
According to this ironclad Non-Disclosure agreement I can’t really tell anyone about anything—not the product we developed, the technology, or the work I do at Kingston Industries.
Fine. I’ll celebrate with Onyx, and make a mental note to buy a bottle of cheap champagne.
I glance up, meeting Duke’s eyes, and my limbs go limp. It hits me again that I am now officially Duke Kingston’s employee.
I work for a man that literally turns my guts inside out. Unease chips away at my excitement.
Jake and Forrest hand over their signed documents. Duke skims them, and extends his hand to shake each of theirs. “Welcome to the company. You’ll start tomorrow at 8 a.m. Now, there’s a meeting scheduled in this boardroom, so I must ask that you all leave.”
I look up from the documents. “May I have a moment of your time first?”
Duke’s upper lip curls. “It can’t wait until morning?”
I avoid eye contact with Jake and Forrest. “It can’t.”
“In my office, then.” After a pause, he says, “Jake. Forrest. Tomorrow.”
They walk out, and I once again feel a sense of deep separation from my partners. It’s like signing the deal has cut the ties that bound us and now I’m on my own, floating.
Nobody to protect me from Duke Kingston and whatever he wants…
The long walk to the elevator feels like a death sentence. The halls are quiet, Duke is silent, and the echo of my heels beat as loud as any war chant. I’m almost grateful for the silence as my mind churns, looking for the right words. I have no idea what I’m going to say.
We join two others in the elevator, who nod curtly at me and acknowledge Duke with a “Good morning, sir.” But when they get off on the eleventh floor, I realize Duke’s office is on the top floor, and we’ll be alone for the rest of the ride.
“Thank you for the dessert,” I say, trying to remind him of the romantic gesture he made with the flowers and chocolate.
His response is a cool grunt.
I lean against the wall, carefully inching away from Duke. His essence is overpowering, and I feel myself getting weak.
I close my eyes to avoid his reflection, and he’s still all I see. My fingertips feather across my wrist and trace the faint outline of what’s left from the rope burns. I’ve hidden them, but to me, they’re like a neon sign announcing the precise moment I became someone else.
I’m not sure how I feel about that girl.
The elevator pings, the door slides open, and Duke motions for me to step into the hall. Even though I’m relieved to be out of the confined space, I can’t mask the disappointment that clouds my common sense. Maybe part of me wanted Duke to slam me up against the elevator door and devour me with his mouth.
My stomach flutters.
Duke’s office is dark and lush, sparsely decorated with rich wooden furniture, a fully-stocked bookshelf, and minimal accents.
His desk takes up a third of the room.
Paperwork is stacked atop it in neat piles. A framed photograph balances on the edge, but I can only see the back of the frame, and for some reason it’s almost vital that I see what picture is so important that he keeps it on his desk.
Duke’s office is dark, impersonal. I get the sense he spends a lot of time in it, and yet, there’s not one item that tells me something about him I don’t know from reading the news.