The Temp (14 page)

There was no other way around it.
 

Eve bit her lip. His hand had stilled inside her, cupping her gently. She wanted him badly to take up the rhythm again. He was playing with her, teasing her, toying.

Eve moaned and threw her hand over her mouth before she forgot where she was.

“I’m sure they were somewhere in here,” Barb said. Her voice grew closer.

And Eve had another plummeting realisation.

The photocopier had been at work.

Unless someone had sent work a few moments ago she was sure what she’d find in the paper basket. A full image of her butt.
Oh god!
Any second Barb would see it and show the rest of the office once they came in to work. She’d have a field day and the day hadn’t even started yet. Would they know it was her?

“Seriously, how long have you been here and you don’t know where everything is?” said the other voice. Cupboards opened and shut with tiny bangs.

“No, it’s all right. I’ll see if one of the secretaries knows where they are.”

“Oh, Barb really. She doesn’t come in till later,” said the other voice. Their laughter retreated out of ear shot until she could be sure they were gone.

Eve exhaled, her breaths evening out again.

The man pressed against her breathing hot steam on her neck. His hand cupped her Sex.

His fingers-

28

“You’re so wet,” he murmured in her ear.

Eve’s blood pounded in her chest, the reality of it all came crashing down. “Get off of me,” she pushed and found him easing his hand slowly out. He was right, she was wet. Once it was gone, a numb sensation invaded her region.
Oh, get a grip!
She wanted to tell her lady parts.
He’s just a dick, a huge writhing penis.

Her head swam. Her hands clutched in the dark.

She needed to get out, to clear her head.

“What are you thinking?” Rome stood so close to her body.

“Oh my god,” she pushed him back. “I was thinking how utterly perverted you are,” she scooted off the cabinet. “Don’t follow me out.”

Eve glanced right and left as she left the copy room.

Her cheeks were flustered, her heart racing.

And she still hadn’t found that damn photo.

*

Seven thirty came round and Eve hadn’t found the photograph. A few suits shuffled into the office, drank coffee in kitchenettes, conversed over the weekend, ignoring her as per usual. Daylight seeped in through the windows amidst harsh halogen lights and fake greenery.

“Morning sunshine,” Trigger stopped at her desk. Eve sat in front of Trigger’s office at her old desk, in the hopes she’d left the photograph there and not on the other floor.  “You look more like rain.” He bent over the desk, as Eve crouched on all fours beneath it. “What are you doing?” Trigger held a takeaway coffee in one hand and his briefcase in the other. He was one of the few people in this day and age who carried one of those. He wore one of his classic silver grey suits setting his gleaming blue eyes apart like an ocean, stealing her breath away.

Eve had been searching under the desk, after she’d been through the waste paper basket and the ones nearby. She sighed against the carpet. She considered telling Trigger the truth about the photograph. It was gone. She needed it back. They could use it against her.
They.
He would understand. He would be the only one to.

She was sick to her stomach. Lucky she didn’t have anything in her stomach except coffee to hurl up. “Mondays,” she shrugged and couldn’t bring herself to look up at him in case she balled her eyes out. “Who likes them?”

“I saw the newspaper by the way, nice picture,” he grinned.

“You know how tabloids blow things out of proportion.”

Maybe Trigger would leave, maybe he’d catch on she wanted her privacy. The desk shifted as his leg came to rest on the edge. Typical Trigger, he never left anything.

“I got an interesting call on the weekend,” he said. “By the sounds of it, I wasn’t expecting you to come back in today. As far as I understood, you agreed to”-Trigger didn’t finish the last part of his sentence as his gaze skimmed round the office.

“Yeah, well things have changed,” Eve huffed. She wanted to fold her arms and cross her brow like any normal tantrum child. She resisted it, in favour for her best teenage stand-off
what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it
look.

“Eve, they won’t accept those kinds of changes,” Trigger lowered his voice.

“Things are moving slow,” she gripped the space between her brow. She didn’t have time for this, not today.

“They’re moving, aren’t they?” Eve nodded wishing he would let it go. She couldn’t even consider dissecting the Roman puzzle right now.

“I’m still temporary,” her brow furrowed.
Oh,
how that title was ever fitting to her whole existence and how she hated the very notion of it.

In all fairness when she’d said to Roman she’d go out with him and not work at the office again, it had been a fleeting conversation and by the way he left her she wasn’t sure whether it counted at all, even if Trigger had received a call. In any case she’d hoped never to come back here again.

“What are you doing under the table?”

“Pen,” she lied. She simply couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell him about the photo. Deep down Eve didn’t trust anyone, not even Trigger. By chance the caretaker had found the photo and accidentally binned it or it had found its way into a trash can. It could be nothing. It could be-

Telling Trigger would increase the risk, not that she couldn’t trust him, he was the only one who could help her in this situation. This was her problem and so far it could be nothing.
Nothing.

“I think you’ve been down there long enough.” Eve was on her hands and knees. Her head tilted up. “You’re got more than just running’s in your stockings.”

Oh.
Her face reddened as her attention trailed down to her skirt. She’d forgotten, her confrontation with Roman this morning had left her stockings looking like she’d been through a wood chipper and her once pencil tight skirt a flaring triangle. She’d been too distracted to do anything about it. Her hair was dishevelled and shower wet and her clothes hung ragged on her.

Eve sat up under the desk, she’d have to take her stockings off and buy new ones during her lunch break and where would she get a skirt from?

She met Trigger’s gaze full on. “Don’t you have work in need of doing or someone else to bother?” she shot at him, glaring at his perfect unrumpled suit and his perfectly coifed halo hair.

Trigger silently skulked into his office.

Her brow went up; actually surprised he was giving her space for once.

The phone rang. Her hopes plummeted. She couldn’t focus on work in her current dilemma. She picked up the receiver fisting the phone.

“You were so wet this morning what changed?” his voice was hoarse and Eve pressed the receiver closer to her ear in case someone else heard. Her gaze flitted to the cubicles, every head was turned down or getting coffee.

Trigger was in his office and at this time he’d be sorting through the days work.

“Nothing, I’m busy,” Eve switched on her computer.

The other phone rang.

She didn’t have time to put on her headset. It was from Trigger, the man watching her back and pissing her off. She didn’t want to turn round in case he’d know she wasn’t working. She picked up.

“We need to talk about what happened,” his voice was full of seriousness.

“What do you mean?” she whispered.

“Eve, you were wet this morning and willing,” Roman said.

Oh shit!
She’d spoken into both receivers at once.

“I mean about you’re new position here and your new position with him,” Trigger said. “We need to talk tactics.”

“Things have changed lately,” she said.

“I know,” Roman said.

“Eve, what’s changed?” Trigger said. “We need to talk about this.”

“No we don’t,” she said to the second phone.

“You still there? I know you are, I can hear you breathing,” Roman’s voice was husky sweet and a tingle ran down her thighs.

Her body slackened marginally.

Get a grip!

“Stop it you pervert I have work to do,” Eve snapped.

“What?” Trigger said.
Double shit!
“Are you talking to someone else, Eve?” Trigger said.

Eve swivelled in her chair and met his gaze head on. “Er no, gotta go, lots of work to do,” she slammed the phone down on Trigger.

“I can’t wait to work on you,” Roman said.

She slammed the other phone down too.

Her red face blinked back at Trigger in his office.

Her mouth was gaping like a fish.

29

“Argh,” her back slammed against the wall.
She slipped. Everything was getting too much too fast.

“Are you alright?” Trigger put a hand to her skin, tracing her jaw line another hand under her arm stopping her descent into the sidewalk. She swatted the hand on her skin away. “What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong?
Oh, god,
where should she begin? This morning, everything.

By the time she’d given up on the photo of Trisha and Jack she’d remembered the photocopier pictures. She’d gone to the machine to retrieve them and found the tray empty.
Great.
Someone had pictures of god knows what, the real question was, could she be identified in them?

…And when she’d returned. Her tear ducts fought to contain the waterworks. The newspaper, the same one with her and Roman’s picture on the front page…she’d found it lying on her desk with the word
SLUT
scrawled across in blood red lipstick. Her lower lip trembled; she clenched her jaw fighting the urge to cry. There were only a select few who wore that
fuck-me
shade of red.

“What’s wrong is I have a job to do and you won’t let me do it,” Eve sneezed.

“Bless you.” Trigger retrieved a handkerchief from his inside pocket and held it up to her. “Allergies?” A tear escaped her.

Yeah, call it allergies.

She took it, the cotton soft fabric against her nose. “What kind of a man owns a handkerchief?” she deflected, her emotions in an all time low.

“The old fashioned kind,” his eyes sparkled in the near light. “Shall we start from the beginning? Why did you go to the club?” Eve’s gaze trailed to the pavement, the rustic bricks set in the wall. “What possessed you to be there? I know it’s not like you. I know you, Eve.”

“Do you? Then you’ll know why I was there.” Trigger’s jaw set in the grim light. “You betrayed me,” she shuddered fighting back the tears. “You told someone about my secret. It was you, wasn’t it?” everything from that day came back to haunt her.

All of this started with Trigger. Trigger was the one who’d known her virginal secret; he was the only one who could have told. He was the reason she’d been at the club in the first place.
You.
His brow knit together, she had to look away, her insides shattering into a million pieces. She was frozen in place, she didn’t move as his hand found her neck, a finger skimming along her neck line. Such heat betrayed her cheeks like he’d betrayed her, such numb pain invading her core, choking her voice. His eyes pulled her in as he leaned in against her face. He put a finger to his lips, calling for silence?
What?

Then he pulled out something from his pocket.

Oh no.
A pin sized black thing resembling a small insect with only a shell. He mouthed the words to her chilling her more than betrayal ever could.

IT’S A BUG. THEY’RE LISTENING. THAT’S HOW THEY KNEW.
Her heart seized, her mouth was left gaping. His hand went over her lips, stifling whatever scream she had left in her.
NO.
He tried to tell her.
NOT HERE.

She nodded into his palm, warm and delicate against her skin. It wasn’t Trigger who told. It wasn’t him. There was momentary relief as she realised with a startling conviction, it was
them
.
Them. Them. Them.
How she hated
them.

“What happened the night you went to the club?” his voice held an edge, unspoken words between them.
Act normal.

Eve bit her lip. “Nothing. I passed out.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing when I called the following morning,” he coaxed.

Eve felt herself sink against the wall. So much had happened it was like some distant memory that wasn’t even about her anymore, watching on the outskirts. She’d had first hand at Roman’s hot and cold, his on and off. Compared to the bug, it shouldn’t even worry her anymore.

“He brought me home and I made him breakfast the next morning.” Trigger’s eyebrows rose, he pulled off from her. “Not like that, jeez, I was blacked out. He stayed to make sure I was alright,” she turned away and sneezed into the cloth.

“Anything else?” his pupils bored into hers. She was on the cusp of telling him and resisted. It was utterly humiliating to think he’d left her how he had in a limo at her doorstep.

“We were going to meet,” she fingered the handkerchief. “There was an emergency at work, he said,” her cheeks gave it away. 

“Mmm, what was wrong this morning?”

“Nothing, I ”-Eve considered the photo and the possibility it could be in someone’s possession. Tears welled in her face, “I can’t do this,” she didn’t meet his gaze. It was all getting too much, Roman and Trigger and the bug-

“Can’t do what?” he almost growled, startling her.

“This, with him, it’s not right. You said they only wanted documents. Why can’t I do that, like we agreed, like
they
agreed?” his gaze hardened.

“
They
want a spy.”

“I can’t be a spy,” she sneezed again into the handkerchief. “I’m not stealth, I don’t even know what I’m doing. Isn’t there someone else? You said they had others in the company,”-

“None of them compare to you,” he said cutting her off. Her cheeks flushed again.

“I can’t handle the stress, it’s making me”-she sneezed again. His hand was on her forehand; his touch a cool block of ice. How could he be so calm knowing they were always listening?

“You’re burning up,” his hand moved to her cheek and a numb tingle coursed down her neck. “It’s not easy, I get it. Take a few days off we’ll talk then.” His hand still rested on her cheek drawing her in. “Eve, you’re not thinking clearly, you’re sick. Go home and rest. I’ll see you in a few days. That’s an order.”

“I can’t go home.”

“Eve, you don’t exactly look decent,” Trigger’s gaze ran down along her rumpled shirt, loose skirt and shredded stockings.

Eve stuttered. “Don’t I need a doctor’s certificate?”

He cast a furtive look. “I trust you,” his forefinger skimming over her cheek. A shiver rushed down her nerves and she shook off the goose bumps fleshing out on her skin.

Trigger affected her regardless of her conflicting feelings for Roman, for what they were doing. Trigger moved off into the alley. She offered the handkerchief back to him.

“Keep it, until you get better.”

She held the handkerchief to her nose, inhaling through a blocked nose. It smelled like him of freshly cut grass and a delicate musk. Her face reddened again.
Until she got better.
Until…Eve huffed against the wall. The world weighed down on all sides wearing her thin.

If Trigger had a bug, did she have one?