Page 4 of Devil In A Suit, Vol. 2

“Dunno,” Alec replies with a shrug. “He was in there when I arrived this morning and hasn’t come out since. I’ve only talked to him to transfer his calls or give him messages, and he’s not very talkative, as you know.”

I nod and turn this information over in my mind as I watch Alec gather his things and prepare the desk for me.

Under normal circumstances, Alec would be someone I’d be interested in. He might even give me a little warm flutter deep in my belly with his sandy, surfer-boy hair and wide smile.

He graduated Stanford last year and is, like me, hoping to work his way up from the bottom at King Advertising. I’d danced with him once at a bar during my first week. I’d tagged along on a post-work happy hour to a bar near Fenway hoping to make some work friends. We’d traded office gossip over cheap beer.

It was fun, but I didn’t feel much spark. He was more like a best guy friend, and when he never mentioned taking it any farther, I assumed he had the same idea.

“Back in an hour,” he says, and then makes a beeline for the elevator and freedom.

I take my seat at the desk and hold my breath, waiting for Jared to buzz me. He knows I’m here every day at lunch. Surely my phone will ring any moment so he can apologize for last night, maybe even explain. But as the seconds turn into minutes, the lunch hour ticking by with no call, I get more and more anxious.

It’s the ding of the elevator that finally jerks me out of my shame spiral. The doors slide open, and Caitlyn from design is standing there. A petite waif with a raven pixie cut steps out.

“Hey, Quinn,” she says.

“Hi, Caitlyn.” I smile, but all I can think about is her in the copy room yesterday, talking about Jared bending her over, and I feel a flash of anger, quickly followed by a moment of victory. I’m sure none of them ever imagined that of everyone in the office, it would be me who finally got what they all wanted. Or half of it, anyway. My smile grows wider.

“I’m here to relieve you,” Caitlyn says, all smiles like she’s doing me a favor.

And then my smile drops. “Relieve me?” I blink at her, sure I heard her wrong, or trying to find a different meaning in what she’s saying.

“Yeah, Barbara from HR called and said I’d be covering Mr. King’s desk during lunch. So you’re free!” She giggles, then stands over me expectantly. But I don’t want to go. I don’t want her covering Jared’s desk. I want to cover Jared’s desk.

And then a realization comes crashing over me: Jared asked for this. He requested someone else cover his desk so he wouldn’t have to see me or talk to me. Sometime between his tongue on my clit and him getting out of the car, he decided that he’d made a mistake with me, and instead of telling me to my face, he is simply sending me away.

I want to be angry, but instead I’m thoroughly crushed. And embarrassed. That I let myself think that he’d actually want me. That I let myself believe this would end in any other way.

Caitlyn places a hand on the desk and leans over conspiratorially. “How’s the beast?” she asks, her eyes flicking up to his closed door. “Does he need a tamer today?”

“No,” I snap, then realize I need to pull it together before I become the source of office gossip. “I haven’t seen him, actually.”

I sit there long enough that Caitlyn arches an eyebrow at me, and I realize that I’m treading dangerously close to gossip territory.

“The desk’s all yours,” I say to her as I gather up my bag. “Thank god. He’s a real treat.” I roll my eyes in what I hope gives a realistic air of sarcasm to the whole thing.

“Yeah, but he sure is nice to look at,” she says with a wink, and I feel my smile waver.

“Totally,” I say, the smile fading as I turn away and try not to let her see the tears just behind the surface of my eyes.

I head for elevator to go back to my lonely, dull cubicle.

As soon as the doors slide shut, I close my eyes tightly shut and let the tears roll silently down my cheeks. I want desperately to sob but force myself to pull it together.

That jackass. What in the hell was all that?

Was the whole encounter yesterday just punishment for the email? He really seemed into it, into me last night, but sending me away from his desk permanently doesn’t seem like a good sign. He dismissed me, and I don’t think it was just from covering his desk.

By the time the doors open on my floor, I feel completely deflated. I was a total idiot for letting it go that far, and a total idiot for getting invested at all. I got exactly what I deserved, and now I’ll carry that particular lesson with me for the rest of my career.

The rest of the day passes in a haze of misery. I take a few extended strolls past the executive conference room hoping to catch a glimpse of him through the glass windowed walls, but apparently the meetings being held there are beneath him, because he doesn’t make an appearance. And it only serves to make me feel more pathetic, like a high school girl who drives by her crush’s house after dark.

When the clock hits five, I pack up my things, feeling an extra weight hanging on my shoulders, and trudge through the warm spring evening to take the train home. Alone.