Chapter 22

“Get up.”

Theodore swept the blanket from Abigail’s body. She groaned, pulling the pillow over her face to block the beams of sunlight that escaped through her thick drapes.

“I’m not ready to,” she groaned, evoking a small chuckle from Theodore’s chest.

“But you have to,” he pressed. “We’re having breakfast together.”

With her head still under the pillow, Abigail kicked her foot in the direction she thought Theodore stood but kicked the air instead.

“We have breakfast together every morning, Theodore. Today is no different. Except for the part where you are interrupting my sleep.”

The bed dipped on her left as Theodore joined her. “This morning is different. I’m taking you out.”

The thought of going out caused a jitter in Abigail’s stomach. She peeked from under the pillow with one eye. “To where?”

Theodore’s bright smile greeted her—as if he had been awake for hours at seven in the morning.

“You’ll see,” he teased. “But first, you have to get up, Abigail. Come on.”

Abigail groaned as he lifted her from the bed, but she no longer protested. He curled her over his shoulder and curved his arm around her bottom to keep her in place. She bounced against his back, almost falling asleep again until Theodore took a sharp turn into a room that smelled like chlorine and Windex. He plopped her on the bathroom sink and leaned her against the wide mirror.

Abigail kept her eyes closed, that is until she heard the hissing facet. But before she could scream, Theodore had already splashed the cold water on her face.

She was definitely awake now.

“You ass!” She hit his shoulder with a laugh, trying hard to be mad, but the smile on his face didn’t give her the luxury of doing so.

“You’re awake,” Theodore said, completely avoiding her insult. “Now, will you come with me to breakfast before it gets too busy?”

Abigail rolled her eyes. Since they put a title on their relationship, Abigail had seen a side of Theodore that she didn’t even know existed. He was teasing. Very teasing.

In two months, Abigail had learnt that he likes to see her upset, then make her smile. It was hard to decide whether she liked the habit or not. Why would he purposely annoy her just so he could fix her mood?

Because he’s Theodore—that’s all.

Stubbornly, Abigail tried to hop from the sink, but Theodore caged her in with his arms.

“Where are you going?”

She gave him a pointed look. “Didn’t you just say we should go before the rush?”

“Yes, but—”

“So, let’s go.” She smiled innocently at him as she noticed a certain sparkle in his eyes.

He gulped, suddenly serious. “Maybe . . . Not just yet?” His words were swift and soft, and his statement sounded more like a nervous sentence than anything else. It was then that Abigail noticed that his groyne was pressed dangerously close against her thigh when she had tried to leave. By the look on his face and the protruding erection forming on Abigail’s leg, she knew his plans had somewhat changed.

She smirked, loving that the tables had turned so quickly.

“But the rush is—”

“Screw the rush,” came his hasty reply, until his lips were on hers, and his hands were all over her body, pulling and ripping at her tiny pyjama shorts as if they were an abomination.

Through the kiss, Abigail laced her fingers in his thick hair. He needed a haircut, but he refused to since it gave Abigail more to tug on.

And he loved when she did.

Soon, her shorts were gone, and Theodore found her already dripping for him—just as he liked it. He slipped himself from his sweats and entered her with a single thrust—hard and ready as her feet curled around him to pull him closer. His strokes were long, fast and hard. Each time, he slid all the way out before filling her completely again, over and over until it felt all too overwhelming. Their suppressed moans filled the room until Theodore emptied himself in her after two minutes, as his climax broke him to the core.

He leaned against her, both their chests heaving as he slowly slid from her soft warmness.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I was too quick. You didn’t.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Abigail giggled and massaged his scalp with her tiny fingers.

“Do you want me to . . .” He trailed his index along the inside of her thigh.

Abigail’s breath hitched at the simple yet maddening gesture, her eyes now void of all sleep and sparkling with excitement.

“Do we have time? What about breakfast?”

“What time do you go to work today?”

“Nine.” Her breaths got even heavier as his finger slipped beyond her moist folds.

“Then we have time.” And with that, Theodore grabbed her lips between his teeth, initiating another kiss, swallowing Abigail’s moans as he brought her body to the clouds, only with his fingers.

Abigail spun her chair from side to side with her phone against her computer, talking to Najay even though she was supposed to be doing work.

“Well, if he’s that good, I wouldn’t want to come home either,” Najay laughed as she pulled a straightening iron through her client’s hair. The blonde hissed when Najay accidentally burned her and complained under her breath about hairdressers being distracted by sex talk.

“I will come home.” Abigail blushed as she pulled an image to its respective place on the computer screen. “I just . . . I like being around him.”

“For the sex?”

“No! Well, yes, but he makes me feel safe, you know?”

Najay shrugged, spinning her upset client to get the other side of her hair. “Well, I’m not complaining. He covered the rent for the next six months. Hold onto that one, Abigail.”

Abigail giggled. She remembered when Theodore offered to pay for their apartment’s rent. At the time, she thought it was too much, but Najay, being at his house that day, happily accepted. He felt terrible that he ‘stole’ Abigail away from Najay, and he still didn’t trust that Nicholas would stay away. Najay even told them that she spotted him a few times, but he kept his distance. She had expounded even more that she thought Nicholas was a tad scared of her. Well, it was only recently when he showed up at her door yet again, and she grabbed a knife and stabbed him.

It was only a graze, but he hadn’t been there again.

“Do you think I can come over tonight? I’m leaving work late, and I do not feel like cooking dinner.”

“Of course,” Abigail said, flashing her eyes between the phone and the computer. “I’ll ask Theodore even though he’ll say yes.”

“Great. Oh, before I forget, I have something to tell you. It’s the weirdest thing ev—”

A knock on Abigail’s door drew her from whatever Najay had to say, and she saw Seymour standing there.

Her back stiffened as she mumbled a quick “I’ll call you later” before focusing on her boss.

For as long as she and Theodore had been a couple, she had barely seen Mr Hansic. Two months ago— like a day after Theodore returned from Italy— Seymour left abruptly on a business trip that lasted about two weeks, then he was in and out of the office a lot. The buzz around the grapevine was that he was either selling the business or expanding it. They all hoped for the latter.

Abigail rose from her chair, eyes wide and body shaking as he crossed the room towards her. As always, he was sharp in his three-piece suit, hands stuffed in his pocket and eyes regarding her in soft gentleness.

“Hello, Abigail,” he said, his voice ringing through the office confidently and bold. Abigail gulped. The image of the last time he saw her made her wince. She had run from him—dashed through the exit without giving him a definite answer.

Anyone with eyes would understand that it meant a solid no, yet the look on his face, his keen happiness to see her was oddly unnerving.

“Mr H-h-hansic. You’re back.”

“I am, yes. I just got back, actually. Nobody knows I’m here.”

“But you wanted to see—to see m-me?”

“Yes.” He went closer, and Abigail gulped.

Noticing her nerves, Seymour sighed and stayed where he was, safely six feet away from her.

“Look, Abigail. I admire you; I really do. You’re smart, beautiful, sweet, and I guess I sort of made up my mind that you’d be perfect for me. Heaven knows why.”

“Mr Hansic I—”

“Let me finish, please,” he cut her off with pleading eyes, and Abigail snapped her mouth shut. “I didn’t know you were spoken for.”

Oh.

He knew?

“And after eight weeks of thinking over my approach, I want to apologise. I knew you were sensitive. I didn’t know what I was thinking.”

Abigail cleared her throat. She wasn’t expecting this. In fact, she dreaded his return, thinking he’d avoid her or even fire her.

“It’s okay, really.”

“I still want to apologise. I scared and upset you, and I didn’t even think you’d come back to the office.” He laughed nervously, and so did Abigail.

What an irony.

“Well, I just wanted to say I really am sorry, and the full-time position is still yours. I didn’t offer only to get you to agree to my proposal, Abigail. I really do need you here.”

The way he said ‘need’—so raw and heavy, as if he’d jump from her window if she left— caused her to shiver.

“We can discuss the fancy stuff some other time. Salary, hours . . . all of that. In the office this time.” He added the last part swiftly, evoking a knowing chuckle from Abigail.

“Thank you, Mr Hansic. It really means a lot.”

“And you mean a lot to this company and me. I’m just sorry I almost ruined that.” His lips curled into a frown for a swift second before meeting her eyes again. “Well, that was everything. If I missed anything, I’ll email you. I best go let the others know I’m back.”

Abigail nodded as he turned to leave until a quick thought resurfaced in her mind. “Wait, Mr Hansic.” Seymour spun on his heels, hands still perched in his pockets with expectant eyes watching her. “Your absence . . . I know it was business-related but was it um . . . are we—you going to . . . um.”

“We’re fine, Abigail.” His smile was gentle. “I’m working on new things, but SHI’s and all your jobs are secure, I promise.”

Abigail beamed. When her coworkers had raised the concern, somehow, she wasn’t worried for herself. That was odd, considering if this was four months ago, she’d freak about the idea of losing her source of income. But Theodore had offered her a position over and over in his company, and she always politely declined. He tried to get her to stop working altogether until graduation. But even Theodore knew that no matter how rich he was or how serious their relationship grew, Abigail would always want to work. And despite the fact that he wished to pamper her and free her from all stress, he liked that about her. Her independence was . . . sexy. Still, since the entire proposal thing with Seymour, Theodore had gotten less trusting and would do anything to have her working with him.

Hence, somewhere in her subconscious, she knew she’d have an offer to lean on if SHI’s was actually being sold or something worse. But she was worried for her coworkers. Although naturally, a new owner wouldn’t re-staff the entire business, some people might lose their jobs or leave from discomfort. Nobody really said it, but Seymour was a hell of a manager. His father owned SHI’s, but it was really Seymour that did all the fancy CEO stuff. ‘Manager’ was simply a cover until his father—who basically did nothing and watched his son do everything—retired.

Her coworkers didn’t like her too much, but Abigail’s heart was always with them.

“Thank you, Mr Hansic.”

With a single nod, Seymour left. Abigail retook her seat and resumed her task, a small simper on her lips, feeling like things were finally in place.

Nicholas has been quiet after the entire knife incident with Najay, things with Theodore were great, and her projects were finally coming into place for her graduation this year.

Abigail didn’t believe in allowing herself to relax, but for now—just this once, she felt at peace.

Little did she know that chaos was already brewing yet again.

The day went by surprisingly quickly. The office grew lighter as Seymour’s presence enhanced everyone’s mood by the hour. That, and the fact that they wouldn’t lose their jobs.

At exactly six-fifteen, as Abigail killed the power on her computer and packed her bag, the secretary, her only friend at work, entered her office. Abigail knew the only time Camille came into her office was when she had gossip that they couldn’t discuss in the lunchroom. She smiled at the thought.

“Hey, Camille.”

“Hey, precious.” As if it was instinct, Camille began grabbing stuff to help Abigail pack her bag.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, I’m just waiting for my boyfriend to come to pick me up, then I saw your lights still on.”

Abigail paused to raise her eyebrows at her. “Okay, I don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that you have a boyfriend or you came here with no gossip.”

Camille giggled. “Well, me having a boyfriend is practically gossip, just my gossip. And guess what? You’re not the only one with a loaded boyfriend now.”

“Huh?” Abigail paused as she cocked her head to the side. Camille waved her off.

“Oh please. We all see that you come here every day in a different car, but the same man is always driving it. Some of the girls did some spying, and we all know you’re dating like the richest man in the damn city! I mean, we’re confused why you’re still here, but anyway—”

That explained a lot, Abigail thought. That explained how Seymour knew, despite his absence, and that explained why her coworkers were oddly nicer to her nowadays.

“—I was in the parking lot one day, and this guy just approached me and started asking me questions.”

Abigail refocused her attention back to her giddy friend as she slipped her feet from her heels and grabbed her sandals.

“At first, I was like, ‘Who the hell are you? I mean, you’re cute, and all but you can’t just ask me questions like that. This is a business!’” Camille laughed at the memory as if it was the cutest start to a rom-com movie. “Then, he starts telling me about my hair, my clothes, how cute I am when I’m angry, and then he admitted that he has seen me around and he was too afraid to talk to me, so the first thing he thought about was asking me about the business.”

“Uh-huh.” Abigail chuckled as she pulled her charger from the socket as Camille proceeded to tell her about her boyfriend’s features and sexiness.

But somewhere in the middle of her description, Abigail felt like she had seen this man before—as if she could almost picture him. Until—

Oh no.

She paused abruptly as she reached for her shoes, where she got a perfect view of the parking lot from her office. And there he stood, leaning against a car with a phone against his ears.

To confirm her fears, Camille’s phone rang instantly.

“Oh, it’s him.” She beamed. “I gotta take this.”

“No!” Abigail slapped the phone from Camille’s hand, sending it across the room.

The young secretary burned red until she saw the slight horror on Abigail’s face.

“Oh my gosh, Abigail, are you crying? By the way, you’re lucky my boyfriend is rich, so I can get another phone.”

Abigail didn’t even know she was crying until Camille pointed it out.

“Quick, tell me everything about your . . . boyfriend.” It pained her to even say it. “From the top to this very moment.”

“Abigail, you’re scaring me, I—”

“Just tell me,” Abigail urged, and after seeing the urgency, Camille did just that.

She told Abigail about how they started dating two weeks ago, how he bought her gifts and allowed her to talk all the time since everyone knew Camille loves to talk.

“Does he ask about the business a lot; the people in particular?” Abigail asked.

Camille chewed on her lip, seeming a bit nervous. “Well, I didn’t notice until now but yes. He’s always interested in my coworkers.”

Abigail gulped. “Anyone in particular?”

Camille grew silent and sweaty. She was holding something back, and all Abigail wanted to do was shake the truth from her.

Camille’s eyes settled behind Abigail in the exact directions she had seen Nicholas earlier. Abigail followed her gaze, where she noticed that Nicholas was staring right at them. From the outside, the windows were tinted. So Abigail knew he couldn’t see them, yet, he knew where she was. He knew her office window, and it felt like he was actually peering into her soul.

He should go to jail for this. But he was smart. The bastard was always clever. Technically he wasn’t fifty feet within her. In a twenty-story building plus the distance to the parking lot—the fucker knew what he was doing.

“You know him, don’t you?” Camille asked, now even more nervous.

Abigail spun to face her again. “You knew?”

“Sort of. He didn’t tell me much, but I swear, Abigail, I know you love your hairdresser friend, but she was out of line.”

Abigail’s brows furrowed as she stepped closer to a sweating Camille. “What did he tell you?”

“I didn’t want to bring it up because I know you and Najay are close, and he said I shouldn’t tell you anything because you’d be upset and—”

“Camille, what. did. he. tell. you?”

“He didn’t tell me much, but I know you two have a swift history. When he told me, I swear I was willing to end things with him. You know? Girl code and all.” She licked her lips. “But he said you two weren’t so serious, and you wouldn’t mind. But he asked me not to tell you, of course, and I agreed that I’d see where it goes before I go preaching my relationship to everyone. I guess I got a bit carried away just now with his description, huh? I totally gave it away.” She laughed nervously, dropping her gaze. “Anyways, h-his last girlfriend was your friend. They dated secretly for the exact reasons like mine. But when she broke up with him out of guilt for hiding it from you, and he threatened to leak their relationship, she drew a knife at him.”

Abigail couldn’t speak. She was utterly stunned.

How dare he—

Her thoughts were cut short at the slightest tiny possibility that—no!

No. Najay never would.

Nicholas was lying, of course. That’s what he does. He lies.

So, why did her entire stomach threaten to spill her lunch in slightest fear that . . . it was true?