Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) (9 page)

“Do you think
that he’ll come back?”

“I’m not
sure.
 
I think that might have been
enough for him because I could tell that the experience was just as trying for
him as it was for me.
 
But who
knows?
 
I can’t get a read on
everything.
 
So, whether he decides
to return for another session remains a mystery.”

“Why do you
think you can see some things and not others?”

“No idea.
 
But this gift—or this curse, or
however you want to label it—was stronger today than I’d ever
experienced.
 
Today we’ll call it a
gift, because it was a gift.
 
I was
able to help Ed reconnect with Helen.
 
He thought that he’d never hear her voice again.
 
He thought that he’d never speak to her,
let alone kiss her again.
 
But he
did.
 
I don’t know how, but it
happened.
 
Helen Nickerson plunged
into my body, she claimed it for herself, and she seized the moment to be with
her Eddy again.
 
That’s the power of
love, and I’m here to tell you that it’s more humbling and awesome than either
of us ever realized.”

*
 
*
 
*

When the pizza
boy arrived a moment later, Rhoda was in no condition to answer the door, so I
answered it for her, paid the admittedly cute, college-aged guy with my own money,
and then carried the pizza into the kitchen.

“I told you
that I would pay,” she said.

“After that
story and what you did for that man today?
 
This one is so on me.”

*
 
*
 
*

When we were
finished eating, I poured each of us a chilled glass of cabernet sauvignon
straight out of the box in the fridge, we went back into the living room, and
Rhoda asked me about my day.
 

It always
seemed a bit funny to me when she asked me how my day went because I generally
assumed that she already knew—at least for the most part.
 
After all, when I had first gotten home
that evening, she clearly knew that I’d had a rotten day and what some of that
had entailed.
 
Still, regardless of
what she’d seen or what she knew, I nevertheless always shared everything with
her because there were indeed times when she knew nothing at all.
 

“Blackwell is a
piece of work,” I said.

“You don’t
say?
 
Every time an image of her
pops into my head, I see the Black Death cloaked in Chanel.”

I told her
about my day with her.

“You’ve likely
already figured this out, but I saw some of that,” she said.
 
“I’m sorry, Madison.
 
When it was happening, I could feel that
it was awful for you.
 
When you left
for work this morning, I knew some of what you were in for, but since you’ve told
me never to meddle, I didn’t say anything.”

And I’m glad
that she hadn’t.
 
Rhoda was a
verified psychic—as true as they came—but I needed to fail and win at
life on my own, even if she could spare me from some of the lows before they
hit.
 
If I allowed her to intervene,
how would I ever grow as a person?
 
I wouldn’t, so we had established our boundaries.

“Don’t worry
about it,” I said.
 
“I’m the one who
insisted that unless you see me being run over by a truck, you’re to say
nothing about what’s ahead for me.”

“You know, I
almost considered Blackwell that truck.”

“I handled her
the best that I could.
 
But she was
a total bitch, Rhoda.”

“I know she
was.
 
And by the way, who in the
hell eats roughage?”

“That one
does.”

“And who says
‘divoon’?”

“That one does.”

“And what in
the hell was wrong with what you were wearing today?”

“Apparently,
I’m to show up in couture.”

“Good luck with
that,” she said.

“Tell me about
it.”

After we
discussed more about my encounter with Blackwell, Rhoda just shook her
head.
 
“You know that she must have
been trying to set you up by giving you only one hour to get all of that done,
don’t you?”

“You think?”

When Rhoda
didn’t answer, I knew that that was indeed the case, which felt like a betrayal
to me.
 
What had I done to Blackwell
to deserve that kind of treatment?

“Enough about
Blackwell,” I said.
 
“Just reliving
that moment makes me want to scream.
 
I’ll end with this—if I’m going to keep this job, I need to step
it up.
 
I can’t disappoint her.
 
I need to throw myself into my work,
prove to her that I’m worth a shot as her assistant and then a better position
at Wenn.
 
Today, I thought for sure
that she was going to fire me, but she didn’t.
 
Going forward, I’m going to need to
bring my A-game to her, so certain things are going to have to change.”

“Like what?”

“Like
Brock.
 
Today, he sent me an IM
asking me to have coffee with him tomorrow morning at Starbucks in Trump
Tower.
 
Naturally, I agreed before
the shitstorm with Blackwell struck.
 
Am I attracted to him?
 
Hell
yes.
 
Is he worth my job?
 
Hell no.
 
I’m afraid if I don’t shut him down now,
he’s going to continue to send me more IMs, and since Blackwell is no fool,
there’s a good chance that she’ll find out and have my head for it.
 
I can’t afford that.”

“Are you going
to see him tomorrow?”

Whenever Rhoda
asked me a direct question like that, I knew that she didn’t know the answer to
it.
 
And so I told her what I had in
mind.

“I’m going to
go, because I need to be honest with him.
 
And because he’s done nothing wrong—this is all on me, not on
him—it’s only right to do so face-to-face.”

“What are you
going to say to him?”

“That I need to
be left alone to do my job.
 
After
Blackwell chewed me out, he sent me another message telling me that he was
sorry about how she’d treated me.
 
It was kind of him to reach out to me like that, but with my job on the
line, I can’t have him sending those messages.
 
Each time he does, my computer makes
this little dinging sound.
 
Eventually, Blackwell will hear it and wonder who keeps contacting me.
 
And since she’ll have no problem asking
me who, what am I supposed to do then?
 
Lie to her?
 
I don’t lie.
 
So that’s not an option.
 
And remember, she’s already warned me to
stay away from him.
 
Even though I
haven’t been this physically attracted to a man in years, I need to cut and
run, or else I’m just setting myself up for . . . what?
 
A new job?
 
A broken heart?
 
Both could happen.”

“Couldn’t you
see him on your own personal time?”

“It’s not worth
the risk, Rhoda.
 
I need to focus on
my job and not have my head stuck in the clouds over some good-looking
stud.”
 
When I remembered what
Blackwell had said about him when he’d first arrived at work this morning, I
lifted my hand off the armrest.
 
“And by the way, about the stud.
 
Maybe I’m doing myself a favor and dodging a bullet here, because this
morning, Blackwell mentioned his ‘womanizing’ past.
 
For obvious reasons, you can imagine how
well that sits with me.”

“Not every man
you meet is going to have ill intentions, Madison.”

“I understand
that.
 
This is my Summer of Resolve,
after all, which is why I initially said I’d meet him for coffee.
 
I figured at that point, I’d make up my
own mind about him.
 
But now that’s
off.
 
Tomorrow, we’ll have a short
conversation.
 
I don’t know exactly
what I’ll say to him in the moment, but it’s pretty much going to come down to
my fear of losing my job because Blackwell has already made her stance
perfectly clear when it comes to him, which he doesn’t know.
 
Unlike him, I’m not a Wenn.
 
I don’t have a built-in security net
when it comes to my position.
 
He
does, so when it comes right down to it, I’m the one who could lose everything
here—not him.
 
And I can’t allow
that to happen.”

CHAPTER
NINE

The next
morning, my aim was to make the best impression I could on Blackwell, so
choosing the right outfit was a bit of a chore, given what I had to work
with.
 
Still, with Rhoda’s help, we
ultimately settled on something I’d found for next to nothing at Century 21 at
the beginning of the summer.
 

It was an Hervé
Léger sleeveless bandage dress in navy blue with a fitted silhouette, a
straight hem, and a round neckline that revealed just a trace of
cleavage—nothing more.
 

The way the
dress fit me revealed my curves in ways that yesterday’s suit didn’t, but it
was perfectly suitable for work.
 
I
wore a light foundation of makeup, a bold red lip, and when I was finished, I
thought I looked business-chic, especially with the matching set of navy-blue
pumps that looked a whole lot more expensive than they actually were.
 

After I’d
assessed myself in the bathroom mirror, I went into the living room and found
Rhoda sitting on the sofa with a cup of coffee while she read the
Post
on the coffee table in front of her.
 

“They’ve got it
all wrong,” she said.

“What did they
get wrong?”

“Pisces,” she
said.
 
“This horoscope of theirs is
nothing but fear-mongering.
 
Today
is actually going to be a great day for Pisces, not the horror show they’re
predicting.
 
Oh, how I hate the
Post
!”
 
She gave me a once-over.
 
“And by the way, toots, you look like a
knockout.”

“Do you think
Blackwell will approve?”

“How couldn’t
she?
 
You’ve totally upped your
game.”

I glanced at my
watch.
 
“It’s 5:20,” I said.
 
“I shouldn’t spend the money, but I’m
going to take a cab again.
 
I don’t
want to take the subway and arrive for coffee and especially for work looking
like a hot mess.
 
Not after
yesterday.”

“Smart
choice.”
 
She nodded over at
Bessie.
 
“It’s already warm
out.
 
I’m afraid that poor Bessie
here is going to get a workout today.”

“I hope we
don’t lose her.”

“That’ll happen
next year,” she said.
 
“On the
second of June.
 
We’re good until
then.”

“Poor Bessie,”
I said, looking over at the trembling air-conditioner.
 
“Already marked with a shelf-life.”

“We all have
one,” Rhoda said as she stood.
 
“And
you need to scoot.
 
So, here, give
me a hug and a kiss.
 
I know this
won’t be easy for you, but you need to do what is right for you.
 
Just know that I’ll be thinking of you.”

I reached for
my oversized bag on the side table in the entryway.

“Expect me home
about two hours later than usual.”
 
I patted my bag, in which were a pair of sneakers and workout
clothes.
 
“I’m going to join Wenn
Fitness after work and try to work off some of this stress.”

“And it
will.
 
As for me?
 
The very idea of working out has never
really worked out for me—obviously.”

“I love you,
Rhoda.”

“And I love
you, too, doll.
 
Just remember that
there are plenty of men in Manhattan who have nothing to do with Wenn
Enterprises.
 
Your Summer of Resolve
is far from being over just yet.”

*
 
*
 
*

When the cab
dropped me off at Trump Tower, it was just before six.
 
I paid the driver, thanked her for
getting me here on time, and stepped out of the car and onto the sunny
sidewalk, which already was busy with people, many of whom were getting in a
morning run before their workdays began.

I should be so
dedicated
, I thought as one young woman with a bouncing blonde ponytail raced past
me.
 
Look at her ass—it
should be on a Kardashian.
 
May Wenn
Fitness do the same for me.

Even though I’d
lapsed in my workouts over the past couple of months, my ass was still in
pretty good shape due to the sheer amount of walking I did in the city, and the
bandage dress had a fit that tended to lift everything up anyway.
 

With my stomach
in knots, I turned toward the building and realized that Brock and I hadn’t
decided whether to meet outside or inside at Starbucks when I heard his deep,
unmistakable voice coming from my right.

“You made it,”
he said.

I turned to
look at him, and damn it if my heart didn’t skip a beat.
 
Today he was wearing a pair of khakis, a
white button-front shirt, and a brown tie flecked with hints of blue that
mirrored the morning sky.
 
Since his
navy blue blazer was hooked over his shoulder with one finger, I got the best
look at his body yet, and it was nothing if not lean and muscular.
 
With his dark hair and closely trimmed
beard, he reeked of raw masculinity.
 
And just to make me melt a little bit more, his smile not only made it
seem as if he was genuinely happy to see me, but also made it difficult to
resist even though I knew that I had no choice but to resist it.

“I’m never late
for coffee,” I said.

“Good to hear,”
he said.
 
“Because neither am
I.
 
And if you don’t mind my saying
so, you look beautiful, Madison.”

This is not
going to go well at all.

“After
yesterday, I had to step it up for Blackwell,” I said.

“Just for her?”

Since I blush
easily, I felt my face grow warm when he said that, he caught it, and then he
placed the palm of his hand against the middle of my back.
 
His hand felt massive to me, and the
heat that emanated from it sent chills throughout me despite the warm air.
 

“Let’s grab a
cup,” he said as we walked toward one of the building’s swinging doors.
 
“I barely slept last night and need the
caffeine.
 
After you.”

We went through
the doors and into the lobby, which seemed to encapsulate everything that was
wrong and garish about the 1980s.
 
Shiny brass accents abounded.
 
Pink, white-veined Breccia Pernice marble covered the walls and
floors.
 
And straight ahead of us
was a seven-story waterfall that winked and glittered in the concealed lights
shining up from its uneven, blocky facade.
 

Starbucks was
on the second-floor mezzanine.
 
When
we reached it by taking one of the escalators, Brock turned to ask me what I’d
like to drink.

“Large coffee,
cream, two sugars.”
 
I reached into
my bag to get some cash.

“I asked
you
for coffee,” he said, nodding toward my purse.
 
“So, how about if you put that away,
find us a table, and I’ll be back in a minute or so?”
 

“No, I should
pay,” I said, not wanting him to do so knowing what I was about to tell him.

“I insist.”

“All right,” I
said reluctantly.
 
“Thank you.”

I turned to
look for a free table, found one, and said, “I’ll be over there.”

“Good to know,
but just so you know, I doubt that I would have missed you.”

*
 
*
 
*

When he
returned, he was wearing his blazer and carrying two large coffees.
 
He put mine down on the table in front
of me, and this time, I detected just the faintest hint of cologne, which
smelled clean and sexy to me.
 
He
took the chair opposite me.

“Here’s to us
newbies,” he said as he removed the lid.

I peeled off
mine, a shot of steam rose up between us, and I lifted my cup in the air.
 
“To us newbies,” I said.
 
“And be careful, because this coffee is
hot.”

“Too hot,” he
said when he sipped it.
 
“Don’t
drink it just yet.
 
We should let it
cool down first.”
 

When he
straightened in his chair, he was so tall, he sat a good foot above me.

“Brock,” I
said.
 
“We need to talk about what
happened yesterday.”

“That’s one of
the things that kept me up last night,” he said.
 
“You weren’t yourself for the rest of
the day.
 
I could tell that you were
upset—that she’d really gotten to you.”

“She did.”

“I’m sorry
about that, Madison.
 
I keep making
excuses for her, but I realized last night that I shouldn’t be.
 
No one deserves what I heard coming
through that door.”

And at that, my
stomach sank.

“Which means
that everyone heard it,” I said.
 
“Perfect.”

“Believe me,
everyone on that floor has already been called out by Blackwell.
 
I might be new on the job, but I know
how she can be.
 
If anything, when
she was chewing you out, you were getting their sympathy because they’ve all
been there before.
 
They know how
she is.”

“Here’s how it
is with me,” I said.
 
“I can’t lose
my job.”

“Do you really
think that it’s at risk?
 
Just
because you were five minutes late?”

“As
unreasonable as that sounds to both of us, yes, I do think that it’s at risk,
which I myself can’t risk.
 
I’ve
been in Manhattan for two years now, I’ve yet to land a well-paying job that
could lead to something more—until now, of course.
 
And I don’t have a lot of
money—especially after putting myself through Harvard Business School to
get my M.B.A., which sounded like a fantastic idea until I moved here.”

“How do you
mean?”

“Finding the
right job hasn’t been easy.
 
The
competition here is stiffer than I’d ever imagined, especially since I don’t
come from the sort of family that has connections, which can be critical when
it comes to getting your foot in the door.
 
I come from a working-class family in Granville, Wisconsin, a place
you’ve likely never heard of.”

“I haven’t.”

“I’m not
surprised.
 
It’s a blip on a
map.
 
But because I lack the sort of
connections that most of my peers at Harvard enjoyed when they graduated, it’s
been difficult since I arrived here.
 
So, I’m hoping that after yesterday’s fiasco, I’ll eventually be seen as
a good fit for Wenn.
 
But with
Blackwell as my boss, I’m not entirely sure that’s going to happen if I don’t
make a few changes.”

“What sort of
changes?”

“I’m not sure
how to say this,” I said.

“Just say it.”

“I want to get
to know you better, but I don’t think that I can since Blackwell has already
warned me away from you.
 
If I defy
her, she’ll toss my ass out of Wenn.
 
I’m certain of it.”

His brows
knitted together in a mix of confusion—and then anger.
 
“What do you mean she warned you away
from me?”

“Before I go
forward, I need to make sure that this conversation is going to stay between
us.”

“Of course it
will.
 
I don’t betray people,
Madison.”

“Neither do I,
but we don’t know each other well, and I needed to make sure, especially since
yesterday I was betrayed by two people—Blackwell herself, and also by
Sophia at Tiffany.”

“I don’t know
anything about that, but we’ll discuss it in a moment.
 
First, I want to know what Blackwell
said to you.”

“This is
embarrassing.”

“What’s
embarrassing?”

“She said that
she was ‘aware of the shift in the air’ when we first met.”

“So was I.
 
And I think you were too.”

I was startled
by his admission, but I tried my best not to show it.
 
Naturally, that wasn’t in the cards for
me—my cheeks flushed when he said that.
 
Apparently, they were perfectly happy to
betray me as well.