“We’re just messing around, boss. No harm, no foul,” Todd adds in his weaselly, ass-kissing voice.
“Yeah, Graham, she has a tight little body. We were ju—”
I slam both my fists down onto my desk. “Don’t ever fucking talk about her like that again!” I shout and both men jump.
I’m not being too subtle right now, but I don’t give a fuck. I might be emotionally damaged from losing my wife, but I’m not into playing games with people’s hearts or emotions. That’s childish, fucked-up shit, and I won’t stand for it.
“I have told you”—I point toward Garrett’s face—“more than once now to watch yourself, and you keep crossing the line. Learn some fucking respect and grow up. Respect Nadine and Todd, respect whatever fucking blow-up doll you sleep with every night, or at least attempt to respect yourselves. If I hear either of you say one more word about Margot, I’ll not only fire you on the spot, but I’ll destroy your personal and professional reputation. You understand me?”
The men are standing now, eyes wide as they listen. They both nod.
“I can’t hear you!”
“Yes—absolutely, sir. Won’t happen again,” they both say.
“Good, now get the fuck out of my office.”
I drop down in my seat after they leave. My heart feels like I just ran up ten flights of stairs. I loosen my tie and remove my suit coat.
“I’m losing it,” I mutter, rubbing my hands over my face.
“Sir? Everything okay?” Olivia pokes her head into my office, a concerned look on her face. She clearly heard my outburst.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter as she walks farther into the room.
“You have a pretty full day today. Your first meeting isn’t until ten, though, so you have a few minutes yet. I moved your lunch meeting to a dinner meeting. I know you hate those, but it was the only time I could get Peter Vallow to reschedule while he’s in Chicago.”
I nod and tell her it’s fine.
“You sure you’re okay, sir? You need me to run out and get you anything?”
“I’m good, Olivia. Thank you.”
I’m not good. I’m losing my grip. I haven’t felt this out of control in… well, ever.
When I met Meredith, it was an instant attraction, sure, but it was more of a mutual respect we had for each other. She was gorgeous and driven. I was attracted to how she carried herself, her power, the way she commanded a room. But with Margot, it’s different. She feeds a need in me. A desire to control her, to protect her, like she needs me.
I don’t really want to open the can of worms that might be mentally. I’m sure a licensed professional would tell me there’s some sort of repressed shit I need to deal with. That the desire to fully consume and own this woman is unhealthy… I don’t doubt that at all. The amount of time I spend thinking about her is unhealthy, the way she occupies my entire brain and has me so wrapped around her without even knowing it or trying—seriously unhealthy.
Even the physical reaction I have to her is nothing like I’ve experienced with anyone. My relationship with Meredith was more emotional than physical. We had good sex—great sex even—but it wasn’t pure carnal lust and desire.
With Margot, it’s both and I haven’t even fully had her.
I want to shield her from the Garretts and Todds of the world. I want to protect her like she’s mine. I want to mark every single part of her body. I want to look at her and know there isn’t one inch of her I haven’t touched or kissed.
But guilt has kept me from fully taking her. I know she’s young, has the world at her fingertips.
I glance at my watch. I have seven minutes until my first meeting. Just enough time to splash cold water on my face and get a second cup of coffee before falling headlong into another day.
By the time my day ends, including my dinner meeting, it’s past eight p.m. I’m exhausted and just want to go home. More than anything, I want to see Margot. I haven’t spoken to her or even seen her since Saturday night. I’m sure she thinks I’m avoiding her.
I close my eyes in the back of the car as Phil drives us home. I can feel the tinges of a headache brewing from the wine I had at dinner.
I climb the stairs to the second floor, pausing. I can hear Eleanor laughing in the tub over Margot’s voice. They’ll be done soon, then she’ll put her to bed. I’m tempted to tell her I’ll handle story time tonight but figure I don’t want to interrupt her schedule.
Instead, I head to my bedroom, removing my suit coat and tie and kicking off my shoes. I walk to the large windows that overlook the backyard. I feel anxious, like I know there’s something I’m trying to talk myself out of doing but I’m going to do it anyway.
I walk over to the wet bar in the corner and pour myself a couple fingers of bourbon. I sit on the edge of my bed but it’s no use. I’m already making my way back downstairs toward Margot’s bedroom before I can talk myself out of it.
The door is cracked; it’s dark inside. She’s in Eleanor’s room now, putting her to bed. I step into the room, the moonlight casting a long tunnel of light across the floor. I walk over to the two chairs near the window and take a seat in the one that’s still obscured by the shadows.
I’ve been sitting in there for a while when the door slowly opens and then closes as Margot enters. She lets out an exhale, circling her head around her neck as she stretches it.
“Good evening, Margot,” I say, and as expected she jumps, clutching her chest as her eyes dart toward me.
“Oh my God!” she breathes out. “What are you doing?”
I raise the tumbler in my hand. “Enjoying a nightcap.”
She walks toward me slowly. She’s wearing a cute little sundress that hits just above her knee, a pale-pink cardigan over the top of it. She takes a seat in the chair opposite of me, perched on the very edge.
“I wasn’t sure if you were avoiding me… after Saturday night.” Her voice is soft and airy.
I shake my head. “No.”
“You sure? You certainly seemed to be avoiding me before showing up to chase Hank off.”
I don’t say anything, just lean back in the chair.
“Are we good?” she asks.
“Good?” I’m confused.
“You seemed—I dunno. After that charity event I attended with you, you got cold, weird. It felt like you were avoiding me or mad at me. We left there in a rush, and then the whole thing on Saturday with you showing up and chasing off Hank.”
“You’re right; I was behaving poorly.” I think through what I want to say, but then I stop myself. I don’t want to give her a thought-out, curated answer. I want to just be honest with her. “I felt guilty after what happened between us the night of the event. I was trying to avoid you, to put space between us. But I failed. I couldn’t stop thinking about you with him, on your date.”
“Well, that was my fault because it wasn’t a date and it never was. I said that because…” Her words trail off.
“Because?”
“I dunno, to get a response from you.”
I chuckle. “Well, it certainly worked.”