Now, I do.
Now, I need to sit her the fuck down and tell her about all her options. The ones I talk to my clients about so they have no rosy thoughts about what’s waiting for them in the real world.
I never wanted Gwyneth to be on the receiving end of that, but I need her to be prepared. I need her to be able to stand tall, even if she becomes a target.
She’s not in the IT department, though. And her silent friend isn’t there either. My jaw tightens when one of the engineers tells me she left with Jane and Christoph.
Of course, it’s fucking Christoph again.
I retrieve my phone and call her as I head to my car, but she doesn’t pick up.
My fist wraps around the steering wheel so tight, I nearly break it from its hinges.
Then I dial her again as I drive out of W&S. Still no answer.
I loosen my tie as I hit the gas and reach the house in record time. She really needs to learn how to answer her fucking phone.
When I go into the house, however, no loud music fills the air and there’s no sound of her off-tune singing and chaotic dancing.
It’s quiet.
Lifeless.
Empty.
Just like the hole she fucking left me with.
Martha has left for the day and it’s just one giant, silent house. This would’ve been my haven not so long ago. This is what I prefer, after all—silence, order, and complete discipline.
This is what I work for, what I like to come home to. But now, that same silence sounds violent and so fucking wrong.
I call her again and yank my tie when she doesn’t pick up.
My head crowds with images of her with Christoph and I nearly break the phone that continues ringing in my ear.
I’m on the verge of breaking other things, too.
My mind is going to ugly places where he has his hands on her, where his hands are on her fucking body. The same body that belongs to me and shouldn’t be touched by anyone but me.
But what makes me really lose it isn’t only that he’s touching her physically but that he’s also reaching her emotionally. That he’s in places I would never fucking be.
That drives me into an obsessive thought process that I wouldn’t allow myself to spiral into under normal circumstances.
But these are anything but normal.
I decide to focus on work since it usually clears my mind.
Not tonight, though.
Because I keep staring at my watch, at the minutes and hours ticking by.
I keep thinking about her barging in to confiscate my coffee and replace it with vanilla flavored green tea. In her words, tea is better for my health and she can’t have me getting sick.
“I’m, like, the protector of W&S right now. Imagine if the mighty Nate Weaver gets sick? Nuh-uh, that can’t happen,” she said the other night when she put the tea on my desk. She was wearing one of her countless pairs of tiny denim shorts and a tank top that fell off her pale shoulders, and her damp hair covered the small of her back. Due to being too impatient, she never properly dries her hair.
“For the thousandth time, I prefer coffee, Gwyneth.”
“Coffee doesn’t let you sleep at night. Trust me, tea is better.”
“And I should take your word for it?”
“Yup. As your personal caregiver, I know what I’m doing.”
“Personal caregiver, huh?”
She grinned, flipped her hair, then cleared her throat. “Yeah. That’s me.”
“I don’t remember giving you the title.”
“I volunteered. It’s not about you, Nate. It’s about W&S’s and Dad’s legacy.”
“I see.”
“Yeah, so you kind of have to roll with it.”
“Is that so?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Tell me something, is my personal caregiver supposed to be wearing that?” I tipped my chin to her top that said “Good Fucking Girl” in capital letters.
Without breaking eye contact, she grabbed it by the hem, pulling it down until it molded against her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, because one of her rosy nipples peaked and showed through. My dick strained against my pants at the tease.
“Aren’t I?”
“Aren’t you what?”
“A good girl.”
“You’re fucking distracting, that’s what you are.” I tapped my desk. “Come here.”
“Why?” She stretched her tank top until I could see the peak of her other nipple. “Are you going to make me a good girl?”
“It’ll be the exact opposite. Come here. Now.”
She did and I showed her just how bad she was while she was only wearing that tank top. And then she fell asleep on the couch in my office, and I was even more distracted all night long.