Entangled With My Boss

Chapter 4: Saved by the Devil

Emily's Point of view

I was glad when my alarm sounded amidst the quiet ruffle of of papers on my desk

It was Lunch time.

I had ended up not taking my breakfast after the morning incident. Now I was famished and needed to get something to eat least I faint out of exhaustion.

I had barely pulled out my compact mirror to fix myself before heading down to the cafeteria when the shrill ring of my outdated flip phone sliced through the silence. My heart leapt to my throat, and my fingers fumbled with the button.

It was Connor.

A subtle feeling if anticipation crawled out of my chest. Maybe he was calling to apologize and make it up to me with lunch

“who was I fooling?” I scoffed at my own silly thoughts.

Connor had never apologize to me before no matter what he did, why would he now?

"Hello?" I muttered, barely above a whisper.

"Took your damn time, did you?" he snapped. "You trying to ignore my calls now or what?"

"I’m sorry," I whispered. My voice felt like tissue paper. "I was just.."

"Save your silly excuse for someone else. I’m outside your office building. I need your credit card."

My breath caught. "Connor, I…"

"Don’t start, Emily. I need to pick up a few things. Get me your card so I'd get going."

Panic rushed through me like ice water. I had just paid off my credit card debt last month. Every cent of this month's salary was carefully budgeted. Half of it was meant for the deposit on that beat-up car I'd found online. Not perfect, but better than sprinting to catch late buses and apologizing to Mr. Westwood for being two minutes behind schedule.

"Connor, I can't…"

"Don't give me that crap," he cut in, voice rising. "You owe me, remember? You want me to come up there and make a scene? Maybe scream your name across the floor until your fancy boss hears me?"

My spine stiffened. My skin burned with embarrassment at the mere idea. Not after this morning. Not after the way Mr Westwood had looked at me with disgust, like I was one mistake away from being discarded.

"No no no…" I said quickly. "Please don't. I'll... I’ll bring it. Just... wait."

He grunted. "That sounds better, now hurry up."

The call ended, and I collapsed back into my seat, my hands already digging through my handbag, frantic. Where was the damn card?

Buzz.

The intercom made me jump a second time.

"Emily, my office. Now."

Mr. Westwood. My throat tightened, what had I done again?

I abandoned my search and scrambled to my feet, palms clammy. One more screw-up and I was done. He’d made that very clear.

As I stepped into his office, he didn’t even look up. Just handed me a file and spoke in that crisp, deadpan tone.

"Type and email this content to the address inside the folder. Immediately."

"Sir, I was just heading for lunch and… "

He looked up then. Cold, steel eyes locking onto mine.

"Is that a request for unemployment?"

I swallowed hard. "No, sir."

"Then get to it."

Back at my desk, devastation coiled in my stomach. I opened the folder and scanned the contents. A short memo, but formal and detailed. I started typing, fingers flying. My mind reeled.

I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I couldn’t afford to give Connor that card. But I couldn’t afford a public humiliation either.

My phone began to vibrate violently.

Call after call. Then the messages came.

"Don’t f*****g play with me, Emily." "Are you seriously making me wait?" "You think you’re better than me now, huh?" "Come the f**k down NOW or I swear…"

I powered through, my fingers trembling on the keyboard as I typed away in a haste. I hit "Send" the second I finished the email and practically leapt from my seat, I didn't wait to see if the email went tthroigh, I simply grabbed my phone and wallet, card tucked beneath my shaking thumb.

On reaching the Lobby, there was no sign of him anywhere, the lobby was practically quiet quiet. Too quiet.

I glanced around again but still no sign of him.

I dialed his number.

"Where are you?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"You must be stupid to ask me that.. Get your stupid self to the underground parking lot right now and don’t waste my time any further."

I froze. The parking garage was dark. Remote, private and dangerous. Why was he there?

Still, I went. Because fear had its own leash and Connor was holding it.

Each step down the concrete ramp echoed louder than the last. I could hear the thump of my pulse in my ears. When I spotted him leaning against some fancy car, I almost turned around out of fear. We were alone here, if he wanted to do something to me it would be so easy for him to do it and no one would know. But I didn’t turn back, I couldn't dare.

"I.. I got it.. Here," I said, holding out the card, arm trembling.

He didn't take it. Instead, he lunged. Grabbed my wrist. Yanked me forward.

And landed a slap on my face.

The crack of skin against skin was deafening.

Pain bloomed across my cheek, on same spot he had hit earlier this morning. My head spun.

"You think I’m some joke to you now? Huh? Look at me when I’m f*****g talking to you!"

His fingers wrapped around my throat.

My knees buckled.

I clawed at his hand. My vision blurred in tears. My mouth opened, but no sound came.

Then he lifted his other hand to strike again.

I closed my eyes. Waiting for it.

But it never came.

I opened my eyes slowly. Confused.

Connor’s arm was frozen in midair, held tightly in another man's grip.

My eyes followed the hand down the tailored sleeve... to the furious, unmoving face of Damien Westwood.

My boss…

My stomach sank. My fear doubled.

Not just because of Connor.

But because now, the devil himself had seen me at my most helpless condition.