Chapter 8

My stomach rumbled,reminding me I’d skipped lunch because my asshole of a boss decided to call a last-minute meeting to talk about the new company-wide email policy. Apparently, employees were now going to be required to respond to his messages over the weekends and evenings.

As soon as Mr. Devane sorted out my inheritance, I was going to quit. It just wasn’t worth the headache. Even still, I felt a guilty twist in my stomach at the idea of taking some of the funds that could go to Hope’s Heart.

Maybe it was time to use that monthly stipend my marriage contract provided. Lord knew my husband had been pretty baffled when, two days after our wedding, I came into the kitchen ready to go to work. He hadn’t explicitly said I didn’t need to work, but the implication was pretty clear.

But there was this tiny piece of my pride that didn’t want to touch Wick’s money. Money that had gobbled up my grandfather’s business like another piece of bloody steak.

In the two weeks since our wedding, I’d been all about maintaining my independence from Wick, who now seemed like more of a roommate than my actual husband. I didn’t want to lean on my husband any more than necessary, even if he was making it harder and harder to remember why I was being so stubborn.

True to his word, he hadn’t touched me since our wedding night. At first, we co-existed in the penthouse like two ships in the night. But then, something had changed. Instead of coming home to an empty penthouse, I’d arrived to Wick cooking dinner.

And not just a simple meal. The man prepared a four-course meal that made me wonder why he even bothered with a private chef. He’d done that for the last five nights, and I was already salivating at the thought of whatever he’d whipped up for this evening because I was hangry.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, I stood up as the clock finally moved to where it needed to be to liberate me from my workplace hell. I grabbed my purse from my desk drawer and closed my laptop.

“Alessia.” My boss’s voice always made me shudder a bit.

Gritting my teeth, I turned to walk the ten feet to his office instead of toward the elevators like the rest of my coworkers participating in the customary mass exodus. I didn’t miss the few sympathetic looks shot my way.

“Yes, sir?” I asked, my tone the epitome of politeness as I hovered in Kirkland Covington’s office doorway.

Kirkland Covington was a pretentious asshole with thinning brown hair and watery blue eyes that were too small for his round face. His hooked nose and the spectacles perched on them gave him a severe look. The smile he gave me was somehow both patronizing and leering.

“Please, come in, Alessia.” He waved me forward. “And close the door.”

I hesitated for a second, opting to only mostly close the door before hurrying forward to sit in one of the two chairs across from his wide oak desk. “Did you need something else before I leave for the day?”

“In a hurry to get home to your new husband?” Mr. Covington winked at me with a knowing smirk that felt all kinds of icky.

I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. News of my marriage to Wick Forrester had been splashed across every newspaper and tabloid in Manhattan, along with our wedding photo. I’d smiled through most of the congratulations my coworkers had offered, and grimaced through a few of the cattier comments from some of the women who had no problem wondering aloud how I’d landed a man like Warwick.

Tension gathered in the base of my skull, a dull throb settling behind my eyes.

“Alessia, the truth is, your performance these last two weeks has been… well, for lack of a better term, unimpressive.”

My jaw literally swung open. Was he serious? I was usually the first one in, and one of the last ones to leave. When he snuck out of the office to get a massage or a facial, I was the one who scrambled to make excuses for him and reschedule meetings.

Even today, when he’d announced the new workplace expectations of being available in off hours, I was already doing that. I was fielding his text messages at midnight because he was drunk and needed me to arrange a car service. Or he needed me to reschedule morning clients.

“I understand.” He stood up, puffing out his chest as he came around the desk to stand in front of me. “You’re young and newly married and very beautiful. I’m sure you’re seeing to every one of your husband’s needs, but as your boss, I have needs, too. And, Alessia, those needs are just as important.”

I gaped at him, trying to formulate a response as he leaned against the desk and braced his hands on the edge to tip forward, giving him just enough height and leverage to look down the front of my shirt.

Folding my arms quickly, I pressed my back against the chair. “Mr. Covington?—”

“No need for formality, Alessia. I’ve told you that you’re welcome to call me Kirk.” He smirked. “I want you to succeed here, but if I can’t count on you…” He made an unhappy sound and pouted like a little boy who’d lost his favorite toy.

My hands shook as I tried to steady my breathing. “Have I done anything to make you think you can’t count on me? Is there any specific issue with my performance?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve noticed you leave rather quickly at the end of the day.”

I left when it was time to leave. And, yeah, I didn’t linger anymore because I wasn’t relying on train schedules to get to the other side of the city. One of the things Wick had insisted on the first day I’d come back to work after the wedding was using a private driver.

I wasn’t going to apologize for having a driver—a really nice older gentleman named Saul—and I definitely wasn’t going to make Saul wait a second longer than necessary, even if Wick was paying him. It was rude.

“I leave when it’s time to leave according to my schedule,” I countered.

His brows shot up as he pushed off the desk. “No need for this to turn combative, Alessia. I just want you to think about your commitment to this job and me.” He came around behind me and settled his hands on my shoulders.

I stiffened, wanting to shove his hands away and storm out of the room.

But one thing Nonna and Papa had always pressed upon me was the importance of being proper and respectful, especially to authority figures. And, like it or not, Mr. Covington was my boss, and that title demanded respect.

“So tense,” Mr. Covington chuckled, pressing his fingers into my neck. “Maybe I should give that husband of yours a few tips on how to help you relax.” His finger traced around my ear.

“That’s not necessary,” I quickly stammered out, unsure how to handle this. I could yell, and maybe someone was still in the office, but that was overreacting, right? Making a scene would only make this worse.

A sick feeling churned in my stomach. I wanted to flinch away from his touch, but couldn’t seem to move. My body was frozen.

“You’re a sweet girl, Alessia, and I see you and I doing great things together,” Mr. Covington’s hands stroked across my shoulders. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Words stuck in my throat as I blinked back tears. There was no hiding the tremors wracking my frame.

“Alessia?” A hand stroked my hair.

The sharp rap of knuckles on the office door made us both jump.

Like I’d suddenly regained control of my body, I lunged off the chair with a gasp and whirled to find Saul in the doorway, his expression thunderous.

Mr. Covington grunted, the sound annoyed. “Excuse me, sir, this is a private office?—”

“Are you all right, Mrs. Forrester?” Saul’s gaze softened as he looked at me. “I was worried when you didn’t exit the building with your coworkers.”

“We were discussing her performance,” Mr Covington snapped, walking back to the other side of his desk and putting distance between himself and Saul. “We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow, Alessia. Have a nice evening.”

I didn’t speak. Didn’t think. I just took the out for what it was and scurried forward with my head ducked, and my purse clutched to my chest. Saul stepped back to let me by, and I raced through the cubicles and desks to the elevator.

Jamming my thumb on the button, I tried not to fall apart as I waited for the doors to open.

Saul approached me slowly. “Mrs. Forrester? Are you?—”

“I’m fine,” I answered, my tone wobbly as the doors finally opened. I hurried inside, my heel catching on the gap and sending me tumbling into the opposite wall. I caught myself on the rail as Saul followed me in, pushing the button for the ground floor.

“Mrs. Forrester,” his tone was gentle and firm.

Tears blurred my vision, and I knew I was losing the battle to hold them back.

Saul hesitated. “Alessia?”

I swallowed audibly. “I’m fine, Saul. I promise.”

He swore softly, then shrugged out of his suit jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”