Saorsa Page 17

  “You’re incredible.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” I smile, then turning more serious, I add something I want him to know. “And I really did miss you.”

  I hear something move outside my office door, the sound is nothing unusual, but it brings reality crashing down around us. My eyes go wide as I remember that we are in my place of work and my assistant has permission to come in whenever she needs me.

  “We’ll have to continue this later,” Rhys says, recognizing the panic in me. He kisses me, then winces as he pulls out.

  I quickly feel the loss of him as he lifts up, replacing my panties and tucking himself back into his pants. I sit up quickly buttoning my blouse. Once I’ve put myself back together I straighten everything out and pat my hair.

  “You look fine.” He chuckles.

  “I’m sure I’m a mess.”

  “No, you suit the just fucked look. It’s hot.”

  I smack his chest playfully. “If I have to look a mess, at least I rock it, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Basically.”

  Voices can be heard beyond my door, reminding us that this isn’t the time or place. “I have work I need to do,” I tell him, regretfully.

  “I’ll let you get back to it,” he concedes. “I want to see you tonight. I’ll come to your place, we can eat out or I can cook for you.”

  “Okay,” I agree without hesitation.

  "I need to spend some time with you, kitten, not just inside you. There are some things I want to tell you and they won’t wait.”

  I nod, concerned by the ominous sound of his request. He doesn’t seem concerned though, just sincere, and that takes some of the worry away.

  He steps forward kissing me softly, it’s only fleeting, but I find I can’t let him go. Dragging him against me by his lapels, I deepen the kiss, wishing he didn’t have to leave. After extracting himself, fixing his tie and pecking me once more on the lips, he slips silently out the door without another word.

  I feel spent and wobbly when I walk back to my desk. It’s then that I realize it’s past lunchtime and I haven't eaten anything today. I collect my purse and head out of my office, not knowing where I will go for food, but knowing if I don’t I’ll end up with a headache and be no good when Rhys comes over.

  "Oh hey, Charlotte. Are you okay?” John asks when I almost run into him in the hall. “You look a little peaked.”

  “Yeah, I just missed lunch. I’m going to run out and grab something before I run out of steam.” I feel a blush creep up my face when I think about exactly how I just spent the last of my energy.

  “Yes, you do that. We need you sharp,” he chuckles. “You have to take care of yourself.”

  “I will.” I smile and head for the elevators. As I press the call button, I run over my food options. Fast and close are best, but I can’t think of a thing I want, when suddenly I remember the box of BBQ leftovers I took home last night, which are still sitting in my fridge. When the elevator arrives I select my apartment floor rather than the lobby and my stomach growls in anticipation.

  My upward dash to my late lunch is thwarted briefly when the elevator stops on the eleventh floor. I step aside to let three people in and the doors begin to close. That's when I see something that has me shooting my hand out to halt the door.

  Level ten is the wellness center. A place I have yet to visit. But I find myself walking slowly out of the elevator, toward the reception area, confused and lacking any words.

  Seersha, or something, John had called it. So why am I looking at another word? One I have seen before, tattooed across the chest of the man who has just had his way with me in my office.

  SAORSA WELLNESS CENTRE is painted in soft hues behind the welcome desk. I stare, not knowing what to make of the coincidence. It has to be a coincidence, right?

  Interrupting my thoughts, a young woman stands to greet me. “Welcome to Seersha, how may I help you?”

  I barely take my eyes off the word behind here when I ask, “Seersha?”

  She smiles like she gets this question all the time. She follows my stare to the logo and points. “It’s pronounced seer-sha, it’ Gaelic I believe. It means freedom. Are you new to the company?”

  “Hmm?” I murmur, mulling over her words, then tear my eyes away and focus on her. “Yes, I started a few weeks ago.”

  She smiles warmly. "Would you like a tour?”

  “I—” I glance at my wrist. No watch. “I can’t, I have a meeting soon. Maybe I could come back another time?” I start to back away, all of a sudden feeling an urgency to get away. Question after question is forming and I might burst if I don’t leave right now.

  “Of course, you are welcome any time. Let me give you our brochure and workshop timetable to look at at your leisure and when you have time you can pop back for a guided tour of our facilities.”

  I nod, taking the booklet she hands me, looking again at the word on the wall and feeling the pressure of unanswered questions build. Turning back to the elevators, I triple press the call button impatiently. It comes up three floors and is mercifully empty when I step in. Food forgotten, I press my office floor. The ride down is painfully slow. I stare blankly at the brochure in my hand, not letting any of my questions really gain any traction. When my eyes focus on the cover, I see that word again and beneath it a definition:

  Freedom, Salvation, Redemption, Liberty.

  Rhys’ explanation echoes in my mind as I read the words.

  This can’t be a coincidence. The elevator arrives on my floor and I hurry back to my office, closing the door behind me. I toss my purse and the brochure on my desk and sit heavily in my chair. I turn to my computer and bring up Google. My mind is in full scale riot mode by now. I have so many theories and questions it’s hard to know where to start, but one thought keeps pushing its way to the forefront and my fingers start typing.

  Rhys… I hover over the keys, not knowing if I want to know what I’m about to discover. But I have to find out. I rush to type the second word before I change my mind… McAllister.

  Seventeen

  I don't know why it surprises me at this point, but when Rhys’ face fills the screen again and again, I sit back, astonished.

  How? More importantly, why? I cringe as I scroll and find several of them are of him with Lisa. Gag. Knowing better, but not being able to stop myself, I click on one and the article that opens up about some charity event quotes them as Entrepreneur Rhys McAllister and companion Elisabeth King. I grab the file I left on my desk and turn to the first page. ELISKIN. Of course.

  I close my eyes and sigh.

  It's not the fact that he's my boss. Granted I would hesitate to get involved with someone at work because, been there-done that, but that’s not why I feel so betrayed. It’s the fact that he lied to me this whole time. I snatch my phone from my bag and scroll to his name in my contacts. What the hell am I going to say? Growling in frustration, I drop it onto the desk. Then having second thoughts I pick it up again.

  Me: I need you.

  I hit send and wait for the reply, it doesn’t take long. It never does when I text those words.

  Louise: What’s up?

  Me: Not much, just found out I’m screwing my boss is all.

  Louise: STFU!!!

  Me: He doesn't know I know. I don’t know what to do.

  Louise: Talk to him?

  Fucking Louise, always so cool, calm and collected. Just once I’d like to see her freak the fuck out. She makes it sounds so easy. “Just talk to him,” I mumble to myself.

  Me: I’m freaking out. He lied to me!

  Louise: He told you he wasn’t the owner?

  “Damn her!” I hiss in my empty office.

  Me: No, he didn’t tell me he wasn't the owner.

  Louise: Did you ask?

  Me: That’s not the point and you know it!

  Louise: You need to calm down, Char.

  Wrong thing to say to someone freaking out, Louise.

&nbs
p; Me: I’m pissed.

  We are so used to talking through text that I’m sure it doesn’t even cross her mind to call. Or she knows I won’t pick up the phone. I want to scream, but instead I get up and pace back and forth trying to spend the excess energy another way while I think about what I'm going to do.

  I’m fucking the boss.

  I feel sick. Everything I tried to escape and change about my life, I’m doing all over again.

  Louise: Talk to him, I’m sure there is a reason he didn't tell you.

  Me: Oh… I’m going to talk to him alright. I’ll text you later.

  Louise: Charlotte…

  I ignore the message and continue to pace.

  How do I even approach him?

  My relentless phone starts buzzing with a call and I look down, seeing a picture of Louise and I on the screen. Well what do you know, she’s game for rejection obviously. I hit ignore. I know she’ll be all logical and use reason and all that jazz but, I. Am. Pissed. Besides, I’ll only snap at her and none of this is her doing.

  Christ, what the hell am I going to do?

  My phone buzzes again, with a text this time.

  Louise: Want me to come over?

  Me: No.

  Louise: I will be there in thirty minutes.

  Me: Don’t. I mean it, Louise. I’ll figure this out.

  Then I pause to remind myself I’m not being kind. I text her, not the other way around.

  Me: I’m sorry. I’ll be okay, I promise.

  Louise: OK. Just talk to him. He might have a good explanation.

  I scoff into my empty office. How can I be so invested in such a short time? I can see where I went wrong every step of the way. I never asked where he worked, or even what his last name was. That would have solved all the problems right there. I would have gotten there eventually, but I was so swept up in the thrill of him, how he consumed me and bent me to his will. My whole life until this point I have been in control. Henry wasn’t the alpha type, he let me run everything. I controlled everything. The house, the business, even when and how and more importantly, if we would have sex. I controlled it all. I didn’t set out to, but someone had to lead and it turned out to always be me.

  That was part of our problem. I see that now.

  The way I see it, I have a clear choice to make. I can rip him a new ass over text and pack it all up. Quit and go back to Louise’s house, never to see him again. That’s the kind of route I would have taken in my old life. The ‘why deal with shit when you can just distance yourself?’ approach. OR… I can face it, see what he has to say. Actually hear him out. I don’t think there can be a good excuse, but part of me really wants one. Don’t I at least deserve a face to face explanation? Deep down in my heart I know the decision is made. And however weak it makes me feel, I want him to have a good excuse, because I really freaking like him.

  I’ve achieved so much in my life and I always meet challenges head on, but when it comes to emotions, I’ve run from everything difficult to face. When I caught Henry cheating I didn’t even try and fight for us, I left. I placed the blame solely on him, even though I know deep down I was a part of the problem.

  My pacing is halted by a light tap on my office door. I look up to see the handle turn and John appears, frowning, in the doorway.

  “Everything okay, John?”

  “Not really, Marie had a fall, they’ve taken her to hospital. She may have broken something.”

  “Oh no, John. That’s terrible.”

  He frowns and I see the worry etched into the lines. “I’m heading home to be with her. I might need to take a couple of days. I’ll call in and let you know more tomorrow and work from home until I know what’s going to happen.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing here. Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m just going to run these up to Mr. McAllister and then I’ll be off. I have a car coming, so I won’t stop. I just wanted to let you know.” He lifts the folder in his hand and taps it.

  “I’ll take them,” I blurt. I don’t know what possessed me but I’d like to help John out and it will give me the opportunity I need not to run, but to turn and face this like it needs to be faced.

  As I think about it, I know this couldn’t be more perfect.

  John hesitates. “Are you sure? I mean, he’s not in his office, he’s at home, in the penthouse.”

  “Of course,” I assure him with more confidence than I feel. “I can drop it off for you, it won’t take a minute and our first meeting is long overdue anyways. You get home to your wife and don’t worry about a thing.”

  “If you don’t mind, that would be great. Thank you.” He hands me the folder and goes to turn away. “Oh wait, you’ll need this.” He reaches into his inside pocket and produces the keycard required to make the elevator go to the top floor. “Thanks again, Charlotte.”

  “No worries, I hope it’s nothing serious, but seriously, take whatever time you need. Everything will still be here when you get back.”

  I say this with the knowledge that I might not be. But he doesn’t need that stress right now.

  John heads back to his office to gather his things and I walk slowly to the elevator and press the button. My mind is going a hundred miles a minute with things I want to say, but still I have no words. No way of knowing how this is going to go down. I can’t even put an opening line together in preparation. I have to take deep calming breaths. I step in and insert the card, then press the button for the penthouse. My heart is hammering, threatening to burst out of my chest as the elevator rises. When it stops, the doors slide open to reveal a small foyer. I step out and stare at the door on the other side, imagining Rhys on the other side of it. Suddenly, it’s too much and I turn to run, but the doors close and the elevator descends, leaving me stranded, with no choice but to face my problems.

  “You can do this, Charlotte,” I say to the empty hallway.

  I step up to the door. I can’t hear anything but the pounding of my heart. I press a shaky finger into the doorbell and take a small step back. I’m sure there has to be a security system up here. I wonder if he will open the door if he sees it’s me?

  I hear the soft padding of feet and hold my breath. No turning back now.

  The door opens and Rhys, with a towel slung low on his hips and another covering his head as he rubs vigorously, drying his hair, stands aside expectantly to let me pass.

  My mouth goes dry. His beautifully inked chest and arms flex as he dries himself off.

  “Come on in, John,” he says, turning back into the room.

  “Mr. McAllister,” I hiss with a quiver in my voice.

  The towel drops out of his hand and he turns, his wild hair falling in his face and his eyes wide with shock. We both just stare at each other in silence, for what feels like forever. Then finally, he blinks.

  “Kitten?” he whispers.

  Eighteen

  I can’t do this. I won’t give him the opportunity to lie to me. I turn back toward the elevator.

  “No, wait!” he pleads. “Please don’t go.”

  I hear his footsteps coming closer to me and swallow hard. I reach out to press the elevator button and his voice follows me out.

  “Kitten, just let me explain.”

  Breathe, Charlotte. Breathe. I turn back toward him and my heart stills as I see his face. I march up to him and push the file into his chest.

  “Here is the new policy I wrote, to prevent what happened with Lisa, from ever happening again.” I emphasize her name so that he knows damn well I’ve put the whole thing together.

  He catches it against his chest and lets out a breath, causing his shoulders to slump.

  I suck in my lower lip, biting it to keep me from saying anything I’ll regret.

  “Will you come in?”

  I shake my head. I regret coming up here. I just want to leave. But I know I need the answers to all of my questions or eventually they will eat me alive.

  “Please, C
harlotte, I owe you an explanation. Just hear me out and then if you still want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

  I don’t respond, but I don’t leave either. Rhys takes this as a sign that I plan to stay and gestures toward his open door, encouraging me forward. Reluctantly, I place one foot in front of the other and he steps aside allowing me to enter his penthouse. Stopping just past the door I wait for him to close it.

  “Come in, sit. Let me throw on some trackies quickly and then we can talk.”

  I nod and follow him deeper into his home.

  “I’ll be right back.” He places the folder down on the table in the entryway and turns toward a hallway, then he pauses. “You won’t leave, will you?”

  I shake my head, not trusting my voice, or even knowing if I can promise I won’t run the moment he’s out of sight.

  “Okay.” He nods and darts into a room off the hall.

  The moment he’s gone, I feel the itch to leave.

  I can’t bear for him to lie to me and worse, to fall for it. The only way to protect myself from that is not to even hear him out. To withdraw and stay in control of my own fate.

  Fuck this.

  I’m about to make for the door when I glance around the room. Something stops me. More than that, something draws me in. Walking on unsteady legs through the foyer I venture further into his world. I take in my surroundings and wonder, who is this man?

  When you say the word penthouse, you picture something stark and cold. A space purely for show. A penthouse is usually a status symbol, not a home. Not this place, though. This place is lived in. Warm and cozy. I feel like I’ve just stepped into a highlands hunting lodge, not that I’ve ever been in one of those, but the room has that kind of feel. The den is all warm tones and rich plaids. Old leather and soft pillows, seasoned wood and heritage. There’s no other word for it.

  Dozens of photographs line the walls, and even knowing that I’m being drawn in beyond the point of escape, I can’t help but get closer to them for a glimpse of the life he lives. So far I’ve only been offered lies and omissions. These photos are his truth and I need to see them.