His Secretary:Undone(34)

All I can do is stare and disbelieve and cry.





Chapter Sixteen





I know I'm fired. I know I don't have a job anymore. But when I wake up,  I get in the shower anyway, I get dressed, I even manage to eat a few  spoonfuls of yogurt before I gag. I do this before I bother picking up  the piece of paper and looking at it again, my hands shaking, and drop  it on the floor again as the tears come.

Last night, I tried to call Adrian at least ten times in a row. It  shouldn't come as a surprise that he's not answering. Clearly, he wants  nothing more to do with me.         

     



 

And obviously, that's for the best.

I can't accept it. I know I have no choice, but it grates against  everything I feel about him. Is there some way I can possibly make him  understand? Can I find the words to tell him how I feel? Would it even  matter?

My phone dings with an incoming email as I sit there, curled up on the  sofa in my favorite skirt and blouse. I stare at the screen, with  unfocused eyes.

It's from Natalie McBride.

The same address I used to correspond with "her," back when I thought  she was real. Those emails that Adrian claims were from Kara, even  though everything she wrote seems at odds with what I've seen of her  personality.

The email is just a link. I tap it.

It's a blog article.





THE TRUTH ABOUT NATALIE MCBRIDE?





No one likes citing unnamed sources, but I simply can't let this one go.  I can't share everything I was told, but suffice it to say I've seen  ample evidence to convince me that this person is in the know. Natalie  McBride is a man - and not just any man, one of the most prominent  businessmen in his field. He's got more in common with Dirk than Amanda.  According to my source, he's a bit of an egomaniac who gets off on  knowing he's fooled everyone …





Heart pounding in my throat, I open the Natalie McBride Facebook page. There's a post with over four hundred comments.

Fuck.





To my readers -





I hope some of you will take the time to read this. Please understand I  never wanted to lie to you, and while I would never place the blame on  anyone else for my actions, I was told this was the only way to reach  you. That you would not accept me for who I really am. If I can leave  you with just one piece of advice: be very, very wary when you're told  something like that.

I realize now that it wouldn't have mattered. You connected with my  stories no matter what, and I should have been honest from the  beginning. But lies are set in quick-dry concrete. You just have to keep  building on them once they're there, unless you want to take a wrecking  ball to the whole thing. And that was a choice I made, on my own. I was  counseled to try honesty, but I was afraid.

What was I afraid of? This. Losing the connections I've made with all of  you. And just in case that sounds creepy, I want to make it clear that I  never presented myself as a woman with the intention of gaining your  trust so that I could take advantage of you as a man. I know anyone here  who's corresponded with me will be able to tell you that. I have always  tried to be respectful and to maintain boundaries.

Of everything I've gained from these last few years, it's all of you that I value the most.

I want you to know that one hundred percent of the proceeds from these  books has been donated to charity. That was always the case. I never  needed the money, and I didn't want to profit off of a lie. Many, many  people will be better off because you bought my books. If nothing else, I  hope that eases your mind.





I start scrolling through the responses.





Nat … or whatever your name is, I might be alone in this but I understand.  I hope you'll keep writing because I love your stories and it doesn't  really matter to me who you are. I can't believe I'm saying this because  if you asked me a couple months ago, I would have been really upset  that somebody would do this. But after I fell in love with your stories  it's hard to say goodbye. I understand you probably won't want to write  anymore but I hope that you will find a way to continue Dirk and  Amanda's story, I just can't accept it's over. I understand what it's  like when people around you tell you that you have to be a certain way,  and even though you don't really believe them you feel like you have to  do what they tell you. I know you didn't mean to hurt anybody. I'll be  praying for you.





-





I agree, please keep writing.





-





lol wtf is this





-





I also would love to see more from you. Nathaniel McBride, anyone?





-





Also praying for you, Nat. You obviously had a story in your heart that  you needed to tell, and I hope people will be open minded enough to  understand.





-





Honestly disappointed at all the ass-kissing in here. You realize he  LIED to you, right? I don't know what the point of this confession is.  Are we supposed to pat you on the back and make you feel better about  yourself? It's really, really scummy to pretend to be a woman to gain  somebody's trust. That's what predators do. And we're just supposed to  take your word for it that you've never taken advantage of anyone?  Please. Anyone who felt victimized would be too scared to step up, your  rabid "fans" are CLEARLY okay with all your sliminess (and most of them  have probably known all along, let's be real). They would tear anyone  limb from limb if they said one bad thing about. *patiently waits to be  deleted and banned*         

     



 





-





Anybody else need some popcorn?





-





I used to think guys couldn't write romance, but you proved me wrong. Please don't quit. Ignore the haters and just be yourself.





-





Something shakes me out of my trance. It's the ding of another incoming email. My hands are trembling when I open it.





***

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]





Relax, I know it wasn't you. Which only leaves Kara. But to be honest, I  don't particularly care anymore. It's the last thing on my list of  concerns.





I didn't mean to ruin your life.





I don't know what else to say. I'm a bastard and I'm a bully and I ruined the only good thing that's ever happened to me.





That's you, in case you're having trouble following along.





You know me now, every part of me, better than anybody else ever has. That's been true for a long time.



I've been captivated by you since the moment we met. The world's a  brutal place for women like you, but I never saw you falter. Five foot  seven in flats, those curves always tugging on the seams of your  clothes, like they didn't want to be covered up. You took up more space  than you were allowed. You didn't smile when you felt like frowning. You  spoke your mind, even at the expense of my comfort. And I couldn't look  away.





You were beautiful, so beautiful, but that seems like too small of a  word to describe what you are. You were my muse. I hadn't written in  twenty years, not since my father found my journals and burned them in  the backyard. Not since he told me I'd be nothing, nothing, unless I  took on the family business.





But when I saw you, suddenly, I couldn't stop.





And I hated myself for giving in to it.





You'll certainly hate me now, and you're right to, but I thought you  deserved to know. Not that you'll believe me, but I didn't keep emailing  you for any reason other than the fact that it made me smile. That I  thought I could make you smile. We hadn't connected like that in such a  long time, in years, because I was afraid of what would happen. Still  am.





I wish I could see another way for this to end. But I don't. You deserve  to be free from me and I knew you'd never leave, unless I made it  happen. For all your will and spitfire, deep down, you never want to  disappoint me.





You didn't, Meg. You were never a disappointment. I wish I hadn't let you believe that you were.





I'm sorry.

***

I stare, and I stare.

With shaking fingers, I open the number pad - it takes a few tries - and  call Adrian. I know he's not going to pick up, but I have to try.

I wait for ten rings before I start pulling on clothes, haphazardly, grabbing my wallet and going out to hail a cab.

The whole ride here, I keep my phone by my ear, even though I know it's no use.

Adrian lives on the appropriately-named "Billionaire's Row," in the  tallest apartment complex in the city. Because of course he does. I've  been here once or twice, but I've always felt too far out of my element  to appreciate it. Now, I'm just too angry.

But the fact that this insufferable, careless man can afford to spend  this much on a penthouse condo is sickening. Perhaps not as sickening as  the fact that I fell in love with him.

I avoid the doorman's eyes as I jam my thumb against the print scanner.  Really, I never thought about how remarkable it was that Adrian thought I  could be trusted with 24/7 access to his building, but I bet he's about  to regret it.

After a long, stomach-lurching elevator ride, I find his door and pound it with my fist, until it aches.