Cut Too Deep (2 page)

“No, I’m actually working on the Milton Dairy campaign.”

Mac hopped up on top of her desk and lifted an eyebrow. “Girl, don’t deny it. He’s fuck – o – licious! My groin stirs every time I see him, too.”

Hadley shook her head. “No offense, Mac, you’re very pretty, but I think he prefers women.”

Mac’s lips pursed. He rolled his neck and said, “Well, a boy can dream.”

“And so can a girl.”

Since speaking to Miller remained out of the question, dreaming continued to be a comfortable means to enjoy his company. He intimidated her enough from a distance. Like a wolf in the wild, admiring his beauty was safe, but approaching him would be dangerous.

Mac shrugged and set the pile of papers on the desk in front of her. His palm rested on top of the stack as he glanced around the room.

“Dickhead wants these corrected by noon,” he whispered with a mischievous grin.

Hadley laughed quietly. Mac referred to their boss, Mr. Jensen, as ‘Dickhead’ since the day he found Hadley in the copy room having a colossal meltdown. She never expressed how much he helped her that day. In fact, Mac saved her.

“What else is new?
Dickhead
wants everything by noon.” Hadley smirked.

Mac snapped his fingers. “He sho’ does, but he’s particularly pissy this morning. The wife must be holding out on him again.” As Mr. Jensen’s competent assistant, Mac overheard details concerning the boss’s personal life that were most likely not meant to be shared, but he knew Hadley would never tell anyone.  He and his boss shared an equal dislike for each other, yet Mr. Jensen couldn’t function without Mac, and they both knew it. “I’ll leave you to your stalking now, but you might try talking to him.”

Mac leaped off the desk, promising to take her to lunch, and strolled back to his office.

Hadley would never summon enough courage to
talk
to Miller. He would find out she was crazy. Well, technically, not crazy. Dr. LeClair classified Hadley as suffering from a laundry list of psychological disorders. He told her developing proper coping mechanisms would allow her to lead a normal life and fall in love.

Normal didn’t remotely define Hadley’s life and never would. Her experiences were like an ugly birthmark she could never get rid of, and when she tried, it left an uglier scar.

As for love…
Who would love a crazy person?

Her mother had read her all the fairytales. She used to believe in ‘happily ever after’s’. Her ‘once upon a time’ started out as fucked up as any other princess's, but in her ending, the only Prince Charming coming to her rescue was her therapist.

The love she dreamed of attaining required unwavering trust. In Hadley’s world, dreaming and having complete faith in another human being, especially a man, were two entirely different things. Dreams and fairytales were for children, and they rarely came true. Hoping for love would be a silly waste of time for a girl with her past and the problems it created.

While Hadley guarded her feelings closely, she adored Mac. If he didn’t work at Jensen Marketing, she would have quit her first week. The morning she met him would have also been her last—at work and on Earth.

As an artist, graphic design became not only a way to pay the bills, but a creative outlet. Hadley’s true passion resided in dance, only she quickly discovered there wasn’t enough money in dance to survive on. She had to give up her dream and acquire a ‘real’ job.

The alternative left her under the watchful eye of Mr. Duwatski. As an estate attorney, Mr. Duwatski was assigned as Hadley’s guardian to manage her trust, but he had insinuated himself into a great deal more in her life. As unjust as the ruling appeared in Hadley’s case, it couldn’t be over turned. Given Hadley’s tragic situation, a judge had determined she would remain under financial guardianship until she turned twenty-one. At which time, she had to prove two things: one; financially stability, and two; active participation in therapy. In addition, after she complied with those demands, if her life remained incident free for five years, her record would be expunged, and the looming threat of being supervised by the court would be removed. Hadley’s five years had yet to expire. With one slip up, she would be back under Harold Duwatski’s thumb.

Hadley’s circumstances stemmed largely from parental neglect. However, the tragedy that had been her life prior to her independence wasn’t solely her parents doing. Some decisions were made for her in an urban courtroom by a desensitized family court judge who tried thousands of cases every year. Of course, the judge considered recommendations from an overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated social worker before placing her in foster care and assigning Mr. Duwatski as her fiscal guardian.

There were plenty of people who contributed to the life of a woman who, by all statistical measures, should be a drug addict or in prison. She experimented with drugs, but the lack of control terrified her, and they lost their appeal. At sixteen, she spent a couple of hours in jail. Punishment from Mr. Duwatski for that infraction deterred her from breaking the law again.  She didn’t escape entirely unscathed, though, for Hadley was at the top of the statistical graph in psychological trauma.

In the absence of family and a permanent home, there was only her dream of being a dancer. Entering adulthood transformed dance into another dream that would never come true.

When Hadley started at Jensen Marketing, she thought she would be doing more than acting as an assistant to an assistant. After four years of working her butt off in college and three and a half years at Jensen, she remained nothing more than Mac’s bitch. In her lengthy span at the firm, Hadley had been overlooked for every promotion. She made the same measly wage she started at. Instead of designing, she reviewed other designers' work, making sure their slides were meticulously checked in preparation for conference room presentations.

Aside from loathing her employment, what appeared a lonely and sad life to most fed her spirit.

Yes, she would rather be living her dream.

But, she cherished that her life was her own, and, for that, Hadley felt pride.

Her life of being bound to a guardian was behind her. She had a therapist she tolerated and actually liked.  The road ahead remained long, and, although she traveled it alone, she felt a sense of normality and found strength in her independence.

Hadley hated her memories, but most days, they were the only proof she was still alive.

After spending the morning correcting numerous mistakes by her co-workers, her growling tummy alerted her to lunchtime. As Hadley pulled her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk, she heard a text alert. She noticed another call from the unknown number, again with no voicemail, and opened the text from Mac. Hadley smiled and shoved the phone back in her purse.

Mac: Meet me at the deli on the corner. Dickhead needs me for five more minutes.

Hadley smiled and shoved the phone back in her purse.

As she pushed the glowing button, her mind wandered back to a time when she refused to take the elevator. A debilitating fear of confined spaces was another piece of her psychological puzzle, or so the shrink said. Her first month at Jensen Marketing, the new girl walked all fourteen flights of stairs, four to five times a day.  After numerous visits with Dr. LeClair, she could now withstand the elevator for the brief trip.

When the doors opened, every trace of air left her lungs. Her cheeks heated and a noticeable ache started between her thighs. Hadley exhaled slowly. Face to face with an enigma, understanding her reaction to him was impossible.

Miller’s large brown eyes gleamed with amusement. His hand stroked the scruff on his chin as he studied the lamb from head to toe. He found her a rare beauty and different from the many women he’d dated. Every inch of her glowed naturally with a warm innocence he thought alluring. While her breathtaking beauty attracted him, the wounded soul that shined in her eyes worried him. She visibly guarded her heart. The thought something awful had happened to her left Miller with an unsettling feeling.

Hadley caught her breath but still couldn’t move. Miller simmered in a black suit tailored to every long, broad inch of him. His hair equally as dark, and silky smooth, fell leisurely above his eyes. His style combined business mogul with easy charm and finesse. The corner of his flawless mouth curled up, revealing that cursed dimple.

“Are you coming this time?” Miller grinned, knowing the effect he had on Hadley. “I do believe you declined earlier today.”

“What? Oh, yes.”

She stared at her black pumps and stepped into the cramped space, which narrowed further as the doors closed. Balling her fists and digging her nails into her skin did nothing to stop the relentless shaking of her hands.

“Lobby?” His deep and luring voice seeped into her, sending goose bumps up her arms.

She avoided eye contact with him and muttered, “Yes.”

Her eyes pulled sideways, landing on a brown Samsonite suitcase, a black leather laptop bag secured to the top.

The lamb trembled beside him, and, though Miller wanted to pounce, he remained still and offered a friendly smile.

Hadley tried to breathe, but the walls felt like they were shrinking. There wasn’t enough air. The slow beginnings of an anxiety attack started in her belly, rising slowly until panic closed in around her lungs, which were about to collapse. Attempting to breathe through it proved futile as the tightening in her chest nearly brought her to her knees. Before Hadley completely lost control, the car stopped on the sixth floor. The doors opened and she managed a full breath that burned her lungs. Three men and two women stepped into the elevator, chatting amongst each other.

Miller used the opportunity to slide behind Hadley under the illusion he merely wanted to make room for the others. Heat from his body wrapped around Hadley like thick, humid fog. His breath filtered through her hair, his incredible scent clouding her face. The hum from the magnetism he exuded buzzed loudly in her ears. When the elevator shifted abruptly, balance failed her, and she fell back against him. His arms intentionally slipped around her waist as he steadied her. He pushed his hips forward while their predicament still allowed it to appear unintentional.

Her eyes widened when she felt his unmistakable erection pressed against her lower back. With his hands molded to both sides of her waist, she heard his breathing as his lips came close to her ear. His minty breath, like magic potion, embraced her skin and froze her in place.

“Can you feel that?”

His question came to her in a suggestive whisper. All eyes fell on Hadley when she gasped loudly. Her heart leaped from her chest and pounded on the elevator door.

Miller felt her shiver. He chuckled softly. His hands grazed slowly over her hips before falling away. The wolf couldn’t resists making a small move to alert the lamb of his intentions.

Did Miller Genetti seriously ask me if I could feel his…?
She couldn’t even think it.

Hadley’s body burned with embarrassment. If she didn’t escape soon, there would be nothing left of her except burnt, crispy bits of humiliation.

The doors opened and Hadley sprinted from the elevator, her heals clicking against the marble floor until safely outside. She inhaled a huge breath of fresh air. The frenetic pace of the city blurred in front of her as she struggled to keep her feet moving. She reached the sidewalk and a bus pulled away from the curb, engulfing her entire body with a billowing cloud of exhaust. She fanned her hand in front of her face. When she turned her head, Miller stood next to a black Mercedes SUV, observing her intently.

Miller held in his laughter while a city bus assaulted the lamb. Not wanting to increase her humiliation, he smiled in her direction. Hadley turned away. It bothered him. He wanted her to feel comfortable looking him in the eye. In fact, once he had her in his bed, it would be a requirement. But, for now, he would let her run—the chase something to look forward to.

Hadley wanted to know what Miller thought of her.

Sympathy or amusement?

It was probably more curiosity, wondering how she could be such a disaster.  When she dared to peek back over, his silhouette could be seen behind the tinted glass, watching her as the vehicle pulled into traffic. In that, Hadley relished. Perhaps he felt a connection to her, too. It certainly appeared that way.

H
adley used wet wipes from her purse to strip the smell of exhaust off her arms and neck. Although she emptied the package, she still felt grimy and would be living with the repulsive smell until she showered. As a native New Yorker, she knew better than to be close to the curb when a bus loaded, but her focus had been on her escape.

The divine scent of freshly baked bread filled the air inside the deli. Shelves full of everything from muffins to bread loaves were stacked high along the back wall. Round and square tables were bunched together throughout with teak wood chairs.

Hadley grabbed two flavored seltzers from the wall cooler. Knowing what Mac liked, Hadley stopped at the counter and ordered for both of them. She sat at a round table near the window and played a game on her phone while she waited for him to arrive.