Page 4 of Ache
As I’m suspended in time, my door is kicked open, and more men in black invade my bedroom. There must be ten of them. They’re bigger than life and crowd the spacious room. One scoops me up, but I grab onto the windowsill. I can’t go. I can’t leave Tage, not like that. Alone. Dying.
“Save him!” I scream as they tear me away. “You have to save him!” I flail in the stranger’s arms in a fit of panic, reaching for the window.
For Tage.
For my heart.
For my life.
For my everything.
1
Everly
Eight years later
Present day
“I swear to fucking God,if I didn’t like Mr. Turner so much, I’d quit.” Lara spins in her chair and glares at me.
“Another ‘special request’?” I giggle.
“They are superlative submissions according to him. Leave it to a lawyer to eloquently rename bitch work.” She slams a stack of papers on our shared desk.
“But no one does bitch work like you.” I bat my eyelashes at her mockingly.
“Apparently not, because not one other secretary in this firm has to confirm with one hundred names on the guest list for the company party tonight. That’s what he has a party planner for,” she hisses.
“There’s not one other secretary sleeping with a junior partner either,” I sing softly.
Lara straightens in her chair. “Do you think he knows? Are Luke and I that obvious?” she whispers conspiratorially.
“No, I just think Mr. Turner is fond of you. You’re not a dumb blonde.”
“Neither are you,” she argues.
“I haven’t been here as long, and he trusts you.”
Lara sighs. “It has been an age, and I’m only twenty-seven.” She curls her pretty pink lips.
I met Lara six months ago when I was hired at Turner Simon and Hooch. It’s one of the premier law firms in New York City. High-class, high-end, high-profile all the way. Intimidating? Hell yeah. Awesome? Also, hell yeah. The perks and bonuses are amazing, and I’m only a secretary. Partners and junior partners? Sky’s the limit. If there’s an event, sport, or concert, the lawyers here have every privilege. Boxing match in Las Vegas? Take the private jet. Offshore fishing expedition? Use the private yacht. Annual Christmas party? We’ll see you at a penthouse three floors higher than the top of the Rock. The shit is bananas, and the best job I have ever had. Which is why I choose to lay low, and that’s more than I can say for my counterpart. She loves to walk on the wild side. In this instance, the wild side I’m referring to would be Luke Dunham — a tall, dark, and handsome up-and-coming junior partner currently making a name for himself. All eyes are on him and a few other all-stars in the firm. They started hooking up right around the time I got the job. Lara was friendly enough, and we hit it off right away. A few weeks later, I came to find out she was having an affair with Luke. Warning bells went off since I was lectured long and hard by my personnel rep on the repercussions of fraternizing in the workplace. The firm has a zero-tolerance policy. Both employees are automatically terminated if discovered. They aren’t overly strict about many things, but they’re sticklers about this.
“You’re right. You are only twenty-seven. You have a long career ahead of you.”
“Are you hinting I should be more careful?” She sways back and forth in her chair.
I shrug as I pull a piece of peach licorice from the package. “I’m not hinting anything. You’re interpreting.” I nibble innocently on the sweet tip.
“I hate when you pull that psychoanalytical shit on me, Ever.”
“I’m not pulling anything.” I stifle a laugh. I’m full of shit, and we both know it. “Licorice?” I offer.
“Ugh, no.” Lara rolls her eyes and organizes the stack of papers in front of her. “I don’t know how you eat those crappy things.”
“They’re delish.”
“They’re gonna rot your teeth.”
