GONE - Part Two (The GONE Series Book 2) (2 page)

"Did you nail that interview you had on Friday?" Ben looks up at me over the wine glass perched in his hand. "You went in there and wowed them, didn't you?"

I wish I could say that I had. The interview was at Hughes Enterprises for a junior programmer. I'd spent most of the hour correcting the woman interviewing me about the logistics of the position. It was obvious from the moment I walked into the office that she had no idea exactly what a programmer's job entails. I had schooled her on the finer points of technology all in a bid to convince myself that I deserved the low paying, entry level job she was offering me. As soon as I got back to my room at the hotel I scolded myself internally for sabotaging my chance at a job that would have at least got my foot in the door of a conglomerate that handles programming for some of the biggest firms in Europe.

"I blew it," I confess. I don't see any point in trying to dress up the utter disaster I'd made of my life. "I don't think I'll get the job."

"You're just being hard on yourself, Lil." He motions towards the waiter who has been hovering near us for the better part of the past ten minutes. "You're ready to order, right?"

I'm not hungry but given the fact that Ben made a reservation at one of the nicest restaurants in all of Manhattan to celebrate the success of our medical travel app, I can't offend him by asking if I can just munch away on the breadsticks while he eats. "I'll have whatever you're having."

"You must be starving," he shoots back. "I'm having a steak."

I roll my eyes. "I can handle a steak."

"You can handle anything, Lil," he begins before he stops to quickly order our entrees.

I wait until the waiter is out of earshot before I move my chair closer to the table. I've only heard about Axel NY and its sister location in Boston. I've never dined at either restaurant because the cost of this meal alone would cover my grocery bill for almost a month. "You didn't have to bring me to such a nice place, Ben."

The corner of his lip pops up into a bright smile. "I'm a doctor. I can afford it."

I laugh at the words. "Maybe when I get settled into a new apartment I can cook something for you and Kayla."

His expression freezes as his eyes flash across my face. "What do you mean? You're settling into a new apartment now, aren't you?"

Ben and I made a pact years ago that we wouldn't lie to one another. It had stemmed out of the desperate need we both felt to find someone we could trust implicitly. I don't know all the details of his life and he doesn't know everything that occurs in mine, but there's an unspoken understanding between the two of us that what we do share will always be based in truth.

"I moved out of that apartment." I take a small bite from one of the crunchy breadsticks that's been sitting in the basket the waiter brought for us along with our appetizer salads. "My roommate and I didn't hit it off."

He scratches his chin. "What did she do?"

"Maybe I did something," I say with a stunted chuckle.

"Did you leave wet towels on the floor?"

I hadn't. Rebecca had but it would never have been enough of a reason for me to pack up my belongings and give up my room. "She knows the owner of Corteck. They're close friends so it would have been too awkward for me to keep hanging out there."

"Where are you living now?" he presses.

Grateful for the end of the questioning about why I suddenly needed to change addresses, I try and put a positive spin on the dismal state of my living conditions. "I took a room at a long stay hotel. It's cheap and comfortable."

"Those places are horrible. I had a room like that…" his voice drifts off as his eyes wander past me. "I mean I used to keep a room like that for when I… I sometimes went there."

It was a fuck pad. The fact that his face is flushed confirms it. I've never thought of Ben in any sexual way and the inference that he kept a room just for fucking women makes me instantly uncomfortable. There's no denying he's gorgeous but I don’t want the imagined image of him in bed floating through my thoughts. "I get the picture."

"Why don't you stay with me and Kayla?" He leans back in his chair. "We've got two extra bedrooms. I know she'd love having you there."

I believe him. I met Kayla briefly yesterday when I stopped by the Foster Foundation's office in the financial district. I was surprised she was working on a Saturday morning until she explained everything she had on her plate. I told her I'd help in any way I could and the relief in her expression was almost palpable. I could tell instantly that the kindness that radiated from her was one of the reasons Ben was so deeply in love with her.

He drums his long fingers across his thigh. "I don't want you staying at a hotel, Lilly. You should get your stuff and come to our place tonight."

The part of my heart that wants the reassurance that there's still a place where I belong in the world is chomping at the bit to take him up on his offer. The realistic parts of me are screaming that it's a bad idea. Ben has helped me through some of the worst moments of my life but there's always been an arm's length of emotion between us. We're close in many ways but in fundamental, day-to-day life stuff, we're not that familiar with one another. Intruding on the space he shares with the woman he loves isn't something I want to do. I don't want to jeopardize the friendship we have. I can't. It's the only thing that is holding me together at this point.

I open my mouth to respond just as the waiter approaches the table to refill Ben's wine glass. I shake my head slightly when he asks if I want another sparkling water. He nods in acknowledgement as we both listen to Ben answer his smartphone. I stare at him as one medical phrase after another falls effortlessly from his lips. He survived a horrible loss and now his life is exactly where he wants it to be. I want that too. The only difference is that I have no idea how to get my life on a track towards a happy future.

Ben had insisted on riding the subway with me back to my hotel. The moment he realized that we were crossing into Queens, he'd started on a path of trying to convince me to pack up my stuff and go home with him. As inviting as the offer is, I won't change my mind. As we took the elevator up to my floor, I promised him that if I didn't have a job within the week that I'd move in with him and Kayla temporarily. It was enough to appease his anxiety. It was also enough to give me the breathing room I need to evaluate my next move.

I breathe a heavy sigh as I glance down at my smartphone. The text message that just flashed across the screen is from Rowan Bell, Clive's assistant. We'd been volleying messages back and forth the past few days. She wants me to either stop by the office to pick up my first and only paycheck or she wants my current address so she can mail it to me. There's no right way to respond to her because I know that there's a strong chance that Clive will use my decision to his advantage. Walking back into Corteck's corporate offices would be a brutal reminder of my lost dream and giving her the address of my hotel will mean he'll know exactly where I am. I need the money too much to ignore her any longer.

I tap out a quick message asking if she can have an envelope ready for me to pick up at the main reception desk tomorrow. I know that it's doubtful that I'll be able to exit the building without having to face Clive, but at least in the crowded lobby, I have a chance of getting out with my emotions intact.

She responds almost immediately with a text saying that will be fine.

I don't look at my phone again before I crawl into the bed. I turn on the television hoping the noise will block out the muttered hums of the arguing couple in the room next door and I drift into a much needed sleep.

***

"Ms. Bell said that there would be an envelope here for me." I tap my fingers on the edge of the steel counter for good measure.

"I told you, there's nothing." The same receptionist who had tried to get rid of me the day I met Rowan is staring a path through me. "You should call her and ask her what's up with that."

Really? This is the face of Corteck?

I smile inwardly as I think about how many people who come into the lobby are greeted with this. "Isn't that your job?"

She pushes her hands against her keyboard and I wonder briefly if she's about to stand so she can slap me across the face. "Fine," she spits out so violently that saliva sprays across the desk.

I take a step back. I avoided that first assault and I can't be certain that there won't be another. "Tell her that Lilly Randall is here," I say the words before I realize that Rowan may actually know my birth name. My initial impression of her was that she and Clive are close. They had to be for her to have known about Parker, his half-brother. I suddenly feel self-conscious and regretful that I didn't just give her the address to the hotel I'm staying at.

"She'll be right down." She gestures with her chin toward a row of chairs I'm all too familiar with. I'd camped myself there for hours on end while I waited to see Clive right after I'd graduated from MIT. The irony of the situation isn't lost on me as I settle into one to wait for Rowan to bring me the only money I'll ever earn working for the company of my dreams.

I hear the sound of his footsteps across the marble floor before the first trace of his cologne hits me. I knew that there was a strong possibility that he would be the one I'd have to talk to when I got on the train this morning to come back into Manhattan. I haven't forgotten his pointed words about the two of us not being done.  I scrub my hand over my face just as his shoes come into my field of view.

"Lilly," he says in a low growl. "I'd like to see you in my office."

"Do you have my paycheck, Mr. Parker?" I look up into his face marveling at how in control he looks even when his hair is slightly disheveled.

"I'm having it brought to my office," he counters as he reaches out his hand towards me. "We can talk there."

The fact that I need the small amount of money I've earned here is the only thing that is making me consider his proposition. I don't want to talk about what happened the last time I was in this building. I don't want him to understand the constant pain that gnaws at the deepest parts of me. I've shown him too much of my heart already but the fact that I need to pay for the room I'm renting is enough to bring me to my feet. "I only have a few minutes."

"That's all I need," he says in a muted whisper as he places his hand on the bottom of my back to lead me through the lobby to the bank of elevators that will take us to the thirty-seventh floor.

"Thank you," I offer as I reach to take the bottle of chilled water from him. I hadn't hesitated when he'd asked me if I wanted anything to drink. My mouth is bone dry from the anxiety that is surging through me. He didn't say a word to me on the elevator. The fact that there were three other people on the lift may have been the reason, but it hardly mattered. I knew that there was no way he was going to delve into the subject of what happened last Tuesday in this office in front of anyone else. Clive Parker is too private a man to wave his dirty laundry in anyone's face.

"Rowan has your paycheck, Lilly," he begins before he stops to nod towards the closed door of his office. "I'll call her in to bring it to you but I want to discuss a few things first."

I can't say I'm surprised by his confession that he wants to talk to me. I knew when I saw him at the library that he would need to speak his mind before I'd be rid of him for good. I can act like a stubborn brat and postpone the inevitable to another day or I can try to grin and bear it now. I'm the one who opened the can of worms that I threw right at his head. I shouldn't have tossed out the details about my family at him, even if I was trying to defend my honor. It's a subject I don't bring up for good reason.  "What do you want to discuss?"

He pulls at the fabric of his pants before lowering himself in the chair next to mine in front of his desk. He faces me directly, drawing in a deep and measured breath. "I'm very sorry about what happened to your family and to you."
I've heard the words before dozens of times. They were frequent and heartfelt in the days and weeks following the shooting. Over time, the gravity of their meaning has diminished as I've pulled myself together and moved forward into the world alone.

"I appreciate that, Clive." I don't look at him as I reply. It's not because I don't value the thought behind the sentiment. It's that I know if I do look at him I'll see sorrow and pity there. It's why I don't tell people about my past. The carefree and honest way they treat me inevitably shifts to something different once they know. They view me as fragile or broken. I'm not those things. I may have been at one time but I'm not now.

"There are a lot of details online about what happened." I hear the audible sound of him swallowing hard. "It's a miracle you survived."

The doctors had told me the very same thing when I was taken to the hospital after the shooting. The bullet had entered my neck at an extreme angle before it lodged in my flesh. It hadn't caused any lasting physical damage. The ongoing trauma from that night is the knowledge that I ran through the house after the gunfire stopped. I saw every person I loved bleeding to death and I had to call 911 before I collapsed. Those images never escape me. They linger with me just as the scar at the base of my hairline does. 

"I feel very badly about some of the things I said to you the other day." His fingers scurry over the edge of his knee catching my eye. "I had no right accusing you of anything."

It's a start. It's also an end. Listening to Clive explain away his ruthless behavior isn't going to change a thing. The man arranged for me to be out of the apartment I was living in so he could acquaint himself with my personal computer files. It's a violation of trust that I'll never get over and regardless of what he says to me, it's not going to change the fact that working for him is no longer my one and only career goal.

Closing my eyes briefly, I pull all the composure I can find from within before I look at his face. "You had no right going through my personal computer."

"You signed a document when you..."

I pull my hand into the air to ward off his words. "I signed a document and then I slept with you. You made me feel special. I don't know if you regularly do that with your new recruits or not."

"I don't, Lilly." He shakes his head faintly. "What happened between us has nothing to do with my looking at your computer."

It's a laughable statement but I'm too angry to find the humor in it. "It has everything to do with it. You violated me."

"I know it feels that way." I can hear a note of sincerity in the words. "I've trusted people in the past who have fucked me over."

I trusted a man last week who fucked me over. I'm looking right at him.

"You wanted me to live with Rebecca so you would have access to my computer," I spit the words out with all the distaste the notion carries with it. "You had it planned right from the start."

"No," he murmurs. "I wanted you to live with Rebecca because I knew she'd look out for you. You're young and this city isn't always kind to women like you."

He's slapped another label to me.  In addition to being young, now he thinks I'm naïve and unable to care for myself.  I push because I need to. I have nothing left to prove to him, other than the fact that he's wrong about my ability to take care of myself. My past is proof enough of that. "Women like me? What does that mean?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. I can tell the conversation isn't going in the direction he wanted it to and I feel a jolt of relief over that. Clive likes to be in control. The symmetrical alignment of everything on his desk is evidence of that fact. I saw it when I was in his apartment too. He needs and wants to dictate every aspect of his life, including discussions and this one has gotten away from him. "You're taking it the wrong way, Lilly. Please don't."

"It doesn't matter how I'm taking it, Clive." I pull on the neckline of the green dress I'm wearing. I don't want the top of my bra to sneak into view. Giving Mr. Parker a peep show is part of my past. After today, I'll never have to worry about flashing the man again.

"When we went out for dinner last week," he stalls as his eyes focus on my hands and my desperate measure to keep myself covered. "Last week, we went out for dinner."

"I remember," I say quietly. I don't want to delve back into the fact that we briefly dated for a few hours. Our personal relationship blew up the moment he took the liberty of turning on my laptop. "It was a mistake."

His gaze narrows as he leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his thighs. "That wasn’t a mistake. The mistake was when I invaded your privacy."

In terms of apologies, it's not the most obvious one I've ever received. I've been craving it though so I'm going to unwind his words and take comfort in the fact that he realizes that what he did was wrong. "That was more than a mistake."

"Lilly." His hand juts out towards me. He stops it before it brushes against my knee, pulling it back into a fist on his lap. "When we were at the restaurant, there was something about the way you smiled at me. I…"

"I was having a good time." It's not a lie. I remember the night fondly. It felt as though we had connected on a level that transcended work. He'd told me stories about when he was in college and he'd listened intently to mine. The man I had dinner with that night was a man I wanted to have dinner with every night. I'd started to fall for him and I thought the same sentiment was there, reflected back to me in his eyes.

"I don't think there was a man in the restaurant who didn’t stare at you." His voice hardens. "I can't blame them. I had the same reaction when I first saw you in Boston at the bistro."

Flattery is welcome but not if it's coming from a place of desperation. Guilt is driving him to say the things he's saying. The fact that he can't look me in the eyes speaks more than any of his words ever could. "None of this matters anymore. Can you get Rowan to bring my paycheck?"

He glances down at his wristwatch. "I'll call her soon. I need you to understand something. It's very important."
It's not important. At least to me it's not. I don't know how anything that he says can be relevant to my life at this point. I don't work for him. I'm not sleeping with him again. My connection to Clive Parker is over for good. "I just want to go."

"I wanted you to live with Rebecca because I knew she'd keep an eye on you." He slowly pulls his hardened fist over his thigh. "I admit I did it for a selfish reason."

He admits being selfish? It's not as though it's an epiphany that will alter my view of him.

"I get that you wanted that control over me." I look at his office door, willing it to open so Rowan can walk through it with my paycheck in her hand. "You wanted access to my computer and getting me to live with your best friend gave it to you."

"I did want control." His voice is deep as he leans forward, catching both my hands in his. "It had nothing to do with your computer."

I stare at my hands and how small they look within his. "What then? What are you talking about?"

"I wanted you to live with her because I knew you'd be safe there." He squeezes both my hands in his. "There's a reckless side to you, Lilly. You shared way too much with my brother. I was worried about what you'd do once you got to New York. I just wanted Rebecca to watch out for you."

"What exactly does that mean?" I push because some clarification is what I desperately need.

"You were willing to share nude photos of yourself with Parker. You didn't know him," he says hoarsely. "Doing shit like that in New York can land you in a completely different kind of mess."