Mr. Brockwell

CHAPTER FIVE

*Calista*

Mr. Brockwell took me to an extremely elegant restaurant and I was thankful for the dress I chose. However, I was a little taken back when the waitress led us to a two-person booth. I thought he said there were 'others' already waiting here? We're sitting across from each other at a table, sipping wine and discussing light business. Although, I know he wants to ask about Ivan and why he's so upset about our dinner this evening.

Ivan gets jealous easily and I'm used to that, but not with my boss. There's no need for jealousy, not this time, right? I think that to myself, but also find myself staring into Mr. Brockwells dreamy eyes and getting lost in them. I blinked my eyes, clearing my head of the ludicrous thought.

"Mr. Brockwell, sir? I thought you said there would be another employee joining us tonight?" I asked, looking around the restaurant.

"I only said that to calm your boyfriend down," Mr. Brockwell remarks and takes a large sip of wine, "Probably not the best decision, but I didn't want you to get in trouble.."

"I appreciate that.." I admitted, finishing my glass of wine.

"Your boyfriend doesn't seem to like me," Mr. Brockwell grimly noted and poured more wine into my glass, "I'm sorry if I unintentionally caused a rift between you two."

"No, Mr. Brockwell, you had nothing to do with it. Ivan's... different.." I answered and felt the weight of my guilt weigh down my stomach.

"Different?" Mr. Brockwell asks and rubs his chin, "Different, how?"

"Uh-" I stuttered and couldn't think of an excuse fast enough, "He's not like other men."

"I can see that." Mr. Brockwell retorted and I stared at him in shock. What does that mean?

"What do you mean?" I asked, sipping my wine.

"That's a beautiful necklace you have on, Calista. May I take a closer look?" He asked, his words so polite, but the underlying meaning was digging at my insecurities.

"You want me to take it off?" I asked and felt my face heat up. Hell, my entire body was on fire with shot nerves.

"Please?" Mr. Brockwell smiled and held out his hand for the necklace.

I gulped. I know if I take this off, him and everyone else will be staring at my ugly bruises from the other night. That's why I wore a turtleneck at work and why I'm wearing this hideous necklace now, to hide my bruises. Without answering, I stared down at the table and tried to control the panic attack that was starting to arise. My heart picked up its rhythm and was pounding against my chest, my stomach was in knots and all I could do was freeze in place. Mr. Brockwell is calling me out and I really didn't want him to know about that..

"I've never known a man to be so interested in jewelry." I commented, giggling and playing it off as a joke and secretly hoping he wouldn't ask again.

"I'm more interested in what's underneath.." He remarked, his voice as light as a whisper.

"What do you mean?" I asked, playing dumb.

"I think you're hiding a bruise, Calista. Like the other day when you had a welt on your cheek, you hid that too?" Mr. Brockwell calmly explained, while my insides became a knotted disaster.

We sat staring at each other for a solid couple of minutes, silently wondering what to do. It's a standoff and I don't think I'm going to win. Sighing, I unbuckle the clasp of my necklace and remove it from my neck. I hand him the necklace and watch as his eyes scan my bruised neck, which I'm sure is still bright and fresh in color. I noticed Mr. Brockwell clenched his jaw tightly, examining the necklace, before sliding back across the table. His eyes fell back on my throat, from which I tried to hide the evidence. Tucking my neck down, I quickly replaced the necklace and kept my eyes focused on the table below me. Until I felt his touch under my chin, lifting my head up to meet his soft gray eyes.

"It's worse than I thought.." He murmured, a hum that stole my heart away.

"It was an accident.." I lied and felt my heart grow heavy. I didn't want to lie to him, but I couldn't figure out why it mattered.

"Strangling you and slapping you across the face was an accident? Both times?" Mr. Brockwell questioned and I knew I didn't have a good enough answer.

"Mr. Brockwell, sir.." I muttered and gathered the rest of the strength I had, "I don't see how any of this is your business."

"You're my assistant, Calista, my employee and I look out for all of my employees. It becomes my business when you're affected at work, which is already evident." Mr. Brockwell becomes cold, as his posture stiffens and his face becomes hard like stone.

"I'm sorry, sir.." I mumbled, dropping my gaze again and wondering what the hell I'm even doing here.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Calista, but your boyfriend does. If he hasn't done so, then I strongly suggest you leave him before the damage becomes worse." Mr. Brockwell noted, finishing his meal and last sip of wine.

"It won't get worse, he'll get better.. He's just stressed right now.." I defended Ivan, why on earth was I defending him?

"They always get worse, Calista." Mr. Brockwell grimly stated, shaking his head and standing by the table.

I join him and he helps me from my chair, keeping his hand on the small of my back as we walked out of the restaurant. We walked back to his car, where he held the passenger door open for me. Climbing inside, I watched as he slid into the driver's seat and started the engine.

It felt awkward after our last conversation and I didn't want to leave things this way, especially over the weekend. I glanced over at Mr. Brockwell and found his expression stoic, something that made me nervous. He seemed to flip flop, one minute he was caring and compassionate. The next, he was cold and unapproachable.

"Thank you for dinner, Mr. Brockwell. It was a lovely evening." I said, keeping this professional.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Miss. Bonetti." He replied and kept his eyes on the road.

"I promise, sir, my job won't be affected by anything." I said, wanting to reassure him.

Mr. Brockwell nods and soon we pull up in front of my apartment. Knowing that Ivan would be waiting inside and knowing that he'd be furious, I couldn't help but linger inside the car. Almost forgetting whose car I was sitting in, I smiled at Mr. Brockwell and opened the door to let myself out. I shut the car door and slowly walked towards the building, hesitance building inside me as I reached for the front handle.

It takes ten full minutes just for me to drag myself up the stairs, because the elevator would have been too fast. I didn't want to return home to Ivan. Truth be told, I was afraid. Why did I fight Mr. Brockwell so hard? I know damn well what Ivan has become. So then why do I find myself excusing him?

I walked across the threshold, separating our apartment from the outside world. It wasn't two seconds after the front door was shut, before Ivan had his hands around my wrists. He was dragging me into the living room and threw me towards the coffee table. My ribs took a direct hit, as I fell to the floor with a loud groan. Ivan once again grabbed my wrists, squeezing tight and earning another loud moan from me.

"Ivan, let go! You're hurting me!" I shrieked, trying to pull myself free.

"Good! Now we're even!" Ivan growled, once again throwing me towards the coffee table.

He threw me backwards and I felt myself stumbling, flailing my arms out to the side in a desperate attempt to save myself. The back of my head made contact with the edge of the coffee table and everything went dark. I now understand the saying, 'lights out', because it's literally like someone turned all the lights out. Only, he shut down the power to my brain too.