Try to make me cry

Chapter 9

Who is this now? I thought bitterness instantly overriding my professionalism. He has a new toy already?

They were both focused on each other and hadn't noticed me yet.

“You shouldn’t be here in my office, get off me,” Eddie was saying, his voice strained, though he wasn't physically pushing her away.

“Oh, come on,” the woman purred, leaning closer. “I know you’ve been having your eyes on me for a while, Mr. Grayson. You’re just too shy to make your move on me.”

“I said get off,” he repeated, his tone hardening.

“Come on, don't you want me to make the first move?” she said, and then, brazenly, she sat squarely on his lap and licked his ear.

My entrance was no longer a matter of choice. It was a required intervention.

I’ve seen him uncomfortable before, but this was different—a genuine, tired discomfort. Should I leave? No. I was here for a reason.

Then the lady turned her head, following a faint sound, and saw me.

“Hey, you… how rude. Can’t you see we’re busy?” she snapped, her tone changing completely from flirtatious to aggressive.

Eddie finally looked at me. His green eyes looked so tired. He stared at me like he was asking for help, but he would never, ever say it.

“I’m here to discuss business with him,” I said plainly.

“Well, he's busy... so leave,” she demanded.

“I can’t do that. My business with him can’t wait, but yours certainly can,” I said as I calmly walked toward the guest chairs and took a seat.

“What did you just say?” she spat, looking at Eddie. “Are you just going to let her watch?”

“Who said anything about watching you guys?” I countered, maintaining my unnerving calm. “Like I said, I have important business with him, so leave, and come back to continue whatever you were doing after I am done talking to him.”

I will not get this chance to come to his office again anytime soon, and he won't take it seriously if I talk to him at home. Now is the time. Please, just leave, don't make things difficult for me and you, pretty lady. And that good-looking fool won't say anything.

“Who do you think you are to say that to me? Do you even have any idea who you are talking to?” She challenged me.

I sighed. My patience was wearing thin.

“Do you know he’s a married man?” I said.

My husband’s face hardened instantly.

“Doing that with someone's husband. You’re so brave,” I continued, a cold smile forming.

“So what? What if he's married? The man who’s not completely yours always turns out better.” she said, throwing down the marital challenge.

“Oh, is that so? I think I might try it out myself, too, what do you think” I said, meeting her threat with my own. Then to Eddie

Eddie’s hand tightened into a white-knuckled fist on the arm of the chair.

“He's mine for now,” she insisted.

“His not, just get out or else,” I corrected her, my mood starting to change. I was losing my patience with this girl's arrogance.

“What will you do?” she taunted.

“Who knows,” I shrugged.

“Go ahead, will you tell his wife?” she sneered, then held Eddie on his shoulder. “I heard his wife is some crazy little girl who has family issues. Little girls don’t scare me,” she finished, smiling triumphantly.

That was the line. I got up slowly. I turned to face Eddie, making her think I was heading for the door.

Instead, I walked straight to her, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and yanked her violently away from Eddie’s side.

“Hey!” she screamed.

I spun her around, held her cheek close to my face, my eyes burning into hers. “I said you’re wasting my time, and you didn’t listen,” I stated.

Then, with a furious, open-handed smack, I clapped her face. She cried out and fell to the carpeted ground. Before she could even scramble back up, I grabbed a handful of her red dress and pulled her up again, then clapped her again—harder this time. The sudden, raw violence made my nose bleed slightly from the effort, a small, hot stain spreading on my collar.

I didn't want to hear her speak again. I grabbed her arm, dragged her across the office, and hauled her out the door.

I turned to the Security Guard, who was still frozen outside. “Take her out, or you’ll be next,” I instructed, my voice flat and dangerous, and walked back into the office.

I didn't even look at my husband. I sighed, pulled out a tissue, cleaned my bleeding nose and hand, and started taking out the documents I came to discuss.

The Laughter

Then, Eddie’s laughter echoed in the office.

It was a full, raw sound. I spun around to look at him. It was the first time I’d ever seen him laugh—a genuine laugh. I was convinced he wasn't capable of it. His smile was so bright, his green eyes tearing up with unmasked amusement.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, confused and wary.

“You know the rumors about you being a tyrant... I thought you only hurt people with your harsh words. I never knew you could beat them up yourself with your small hands,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Same goes for you,” I said, calmly arranging my papers on his desk.

“Are you sure you really don’t do anything to that guy who went missing because he hit you?” he said.

“Ha-ha-ha, so funny. Now that all that nonsense is done, I came to return this,” I said, dropping the partnership document onto his desk. “Now, listen to your wife: forget about sending this to my company ever again, because my answer will forever be NO.”

“Why?” he asked, the smile finally fading.

“I don't have to explain myself again. You heard me,” I said.

“You created that company from me,” he countered.

“Correct yourself. For working as an employee for you,” I said.

“It’s still from me,” he insisted.

“You paid me the same amount you paid every other employee, so why is it a problem that I put the money to good use?” I argued.

“You told me to treat you like one, so I did,” he said, the old defiance returning.

“Yes, so you wouldn’t open your mouth to say what you just said to me.” I sighed. “Tell me, why is my company suddenly important to you? Is your company failing?” I asked with a sharp, cruel smile.

“You wish that for me?” he said, his face darkening.

“Oh no, don't get me wrong. Of course not. I don't want to be the wife of a failed husband,” I said, keeping the smile fixed on my face.

Then he got up from his chair and started walking towards me with a serious face.

What he is doing is making him angry. Is his company really losing it? But I knew that words didn't hurt this man.

He sat down and held my leg.

“What are you doing?” I said, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor.

He didn't answer me. He started raising my dress. As I tried to kick him away, he held my leg firmly. He then raised the hem of my dress and stopped at my injured knees.

“I just wanted to see your knees. Stop fighting and act like a lady,” he said, still looking at the bleeding scrapes.

He looked at the raw wounds—the collateral damage of the family attack and the ensuing fall—after what he had said last night about not wanting people to think he hit me.

“Your family will be having a private beach party for your mother’s birthday,” he said abruptly.

Wow, they didn't even bother to tell you. I wasn't surprised at all.

“Your injuries will be visible…” he began.

“Oh, I get it,” I interrupted him. Of course, he was worried people would see the scrapes and think he was the one who hit me. “You don't have to worry yourself. I wasn't invited.”

But he didn't say anything. He just stared at me.

“Do whatever you want. I won't force you,” he said finally.

That was new. He would normally say, 'Things like that are important, so you must attend.'

“Hey, don't waste my time,” I said, impatient with his emotional rollercoaster.

He turned toward his desk. “It wasn't my idea to send you this document... it was your father.”