Lockout (16 page)

Eventually, he closed his eyes. "I don't know."

Every muscle in my body tightened. I let out a long breath. "Then there's nothing more to talk about."

I was surprised by how calmly I got to my feet. I expected him to object. He'd proven his tenacity time and time again. But he didn't. He just stared mournfully at the floor and let me walk away.

I caught sight of Thomas on my way out. He was sitting in an armchair a little way around the corner, sorting through some papers, although he gave me a sympathetic nod as I walked passed. Apparently he hadn't gone far after all. So much for privacy.

I made it into the back of a cab before I began to cry. The driver shot me several uncomfortable glances, but my mind didn't have space to focus on him right now. There was too much pain. Too much confusion. I had no idea how I was meant to have reacted to what just happened. The scope of Sebastian's lies still hadn't sunk in. I didn't know what it could possibly all mean.

And then there was that word.

If he'd meant what he said, how could he just let me leave? Love was supposed to be a connection that triumphed over everything else. I tried to convince myself that it was just a ploy, a desperate, last ditch attempt to save what we had. But the pain in his eyes had been so real, the conviction in his voice so strong. It didn't make any sense.

None of it made any sense.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The next couple of days were rough. I wandered around the office like a zombie. I think that was my body's way of trying to get through work — just shut down completely. It seemed to do the trick. I wouldn't have called myself a model employee, but I made it through most of my tasks with at least some level of competency.

But at night, I couldn't help but turn the situation over and over in my head. The whole thing had left me utterly dumbstruck. Our relationship had gone from perfect to catastrophic in the blink of an eye. What on earth went on behind the doors of Fraiser Capital? I'd run the gamut of possibilities through my head a thousand times. Was Sebastian a secret agent? A gang member? Part of some kind of bizarre corporate fraternity? Each possibility was as ridiculous as the last, but no plausible option seemed to fit.

I wanted to be angry, and a lot of the time I was, but try as I might, I also couldn't push the things he'd said out of my mind. I hated him for making it so difficult. If he'd just kept his mouth shut, I think it would have been easier to let go, to dismiss what we'd had as lust taken too far. But that one word changed everything. It forced me to confront my feelings for him head on.

My history with love was chequered at best. I'd thought I loved Connor, but obviously that hadn't worked out so well. And I'd been going down the same path again with Sebastian — blind adoration for a man who wasn't honest with me. On the other hand, Connor had never made me feel that divine sense of bliss I experienced when Sebastian and I were together. Even now, with everything that had happened, I often found myself longing to just lose myself in his arms. That had to mean something, didn't it?

It made me feel like the biggest fool on the planet, but part of me kept hoping he'd call and explain himself. I didn't know if I could deal with the truth, or if I'd even believe whatever he had to say, but I hated that he didn't try. It was a coward's move to invoke that word and then not fight.

The weekend passed quietly. I was starting to feel a little better. The initial feeling of panic had ebbed away, replace by a kind of grim acceptance. He wasn't going to call, and that was okay. It seemed devastating now, but the world would keep spinning.
One day at a time,
I told myself.
It can only get better from here.

I was wrong.

On Monday morning, I got a call from Ernest.

"Sophia, could I see you in my office for a moment?"

Ernest wasn't much of a face to face manager. He preferred the buffer offered by phones and email. To be called in to see him was either very good or very bad, but the sinking feeling in my belly told me it was probably the latter.

"Okay, I'll be right over," I said, a small tremor evident in my voice.

As soon as I opened his door and saw Alan sitting calmly at the desk, that fake smile spread across his face like lumpy butter, my fears were confirmed.

"Sophia," he said, "please, sit down."

Ernest looked almost sheepish, like he felt guilty about leading me into an ambush. I tried to muster a little token anger but, truth be told, it didn't make much difference. If Alan himself had called, I would have had to go just the same.

I did as I was told, sliding into one of the guest chairs that faced the two of them. I suddenly felt cold, the kind of chill that seems to seep right into your bones. I was fairly sure I knew what was coming.

"I'm going to get straight to the point, Sophia," Alan said. He'd do most of the talking. Ernest was just here as a courtesy, most likely. "We need to have a talk about your performance recently."

I stayed silent. I figured I may as well make the conversation as difficult as possible for them.

"To be frank, it hasn't been up to par," he continued.

"In what way?" I asked. My voice was strangely quiet, almost dangerous. It seemed to catch him off guard.

"Well look, you must understand, we respect that work/life balance is important—"

"I'm not in the mood for your bloody jargon, Alan," I interrupted. "Just spit it out."

He rocked back a little in his chair, reflexively tugging at his suit jacket. At least I had him off balance. "Well, you've been arriving late, leaving early, taking long lunches, that kind of thing. Like I said, our goal isn't to work you to the bone, but this firm expects a certain level of commitment which at the moment you're not reaching."

In a way he was right. I had been lax lately, but the injustice of it ran like fire through my veins nonetheless. "I bet if you went back and looked at the last few years," I said, "you'd find I've billed more hours overall than any other associate on this floor. Probably more than you yourself."

He bristled. "I don't know about that. In any case, we all appreciate your dedication to the company. But you can't just rest on your laurels in this business. And the fact remains that your recent work has not be up to standard."

I hated how he kept using the word 'we', like he and Ernest were somehow cohorts in this little game. Ernest couldn't have looked more uncomfortable if he'd tried.

"So what is this? Am I being fired?"

Alan gave a little laugh, one that was as fake as his smile. "Now, let's not be hasty. We know as well as anyone that this job can get overwhelming at times. No, we just feel that your poor attendance, coupled with recent events, mean that—"

"Recent events?" I said, my tone somehow growing colder still.

He hesitated once more, but I didn't need him to fill in the blanks. I'd done so the moment I walked through the door.

"You mean with Jennifer?" I finished.

The dip in his expression confirmed it. I'd underestimated her. That little weasel really did want me gone, and between my recent lapses in attendance and my reaction to her prank, I'd handed her all the ammunition she needed to make it happen.

"She mentioned that you'd ignored some of her instructions, yes."

"Did you actually read what those instructions were?" I hissed.

Something in my voice must have jarred him to his senses, because he sat up straight in his chair, seeming to realise exactly who outranked who. "That's not really relevant," he said, his voice growing stern. "I trust Jennifer to do the right thing. What this comes down to, Sophia, is attitude. It's about showing you're a team player. Work is distributed the way it is for a reason. When people start going off on their own, things begin to break down. Jobs slip through the cracks. Everyone has their role to play. If you can't understand that, then maybe you
don't
belong at Bell and Little."

Ernest still hadn't said a word.

"And what do you think about all this, Ernest?" I said. I didn't really expect him to leap to my defence, but it was worth a shot.

He shifted in his chair. "I think that this isn't you, Sophia." He looked almost sad when he said it.

Alan cleared his throat. "What I was trying to say before is, we think maybe you should take a little time off. You've got a significant amount of leave built up. Why not use it to get your head right? There's no shame in saying you need a little R and R."

It was phrased as a suggestion, but that was just an illusion. I was being exiled. It might not have sounded like a big deal — a little holiday, then back to the grind — but I knew better. It was really a dismissal in disguise. That's how Alan liked to operate; ease someone out of the office quietly, and then let the axe fall. Much less messy that way. I could see it in Ernest's eyes. He knew I wasn't coming back.

Strangely, I wasn't really upset. I figured maybe that would come later. Instead, the numbness coating my insides just seemed to thicken. Truth be told, I'd expected it — or something similar — the moment I walked through the door.

I stood up. There was no point in arguing. "Okay."

"Okay?" Alan asked.

"Okay, I'll take some time."

And without another word I turned and left.

I snatched my bag from my office and then made straight for the lift. I desperately wanted to avoid talking to anyone. The wafer thin barricade was holding my emotions in check was ready to burst at any moment.

But of course, she couldn't resist her chance at a parting shot.

Leaning against an office doorway near the lifts, was Jennifer. She was chatting idly with the person inside, but there was no doubting her true purpose. She caught sight of me from across the room as I approached. There were no words, no taunts or mockery, just the smallest upturn of her lips and a victorious flash in her eyes. She'd won and she knew it.

I fled. I didn't even bother waiting for the lift, I just bolted down the fire escape as fast as I could. Everything was unravelling before my eyes.

I had to get away from that place.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I'm not certain exactly how I got home. I think I took a taxi, although I can't be sure. All I remember was being overcome by a great wave of tiredness. The moment I walked through the door, I threw myself into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and slept.

When I woke it was dark. The power was out. There was no storm that I could hear, just a horrendous wind that was screeching up and down the narrow alleys that surround my house.

Glancing at my phone, I discovered it was ten o'clock. I also saw that I had several missed calls from Elle. No doubt word had gotten around. Gossip spread faster than the plague in our office. She was probably worried, but I couldn't deal with talking to her yet.

I really wished I could just go back to sleep. The enormity of everything that had happened was absolutely staggering. I didn't know how to begin dealing with it all. It made the prospect of simple unconsciousness incredibly appealing. But I could tell I wouldn't drift back off again.

Not knowing what else to do, I lit some candles and went to the kitchen to pour a bowl of cereal. I wasn't particularly hungry, but I figured I probably needed to eat. It tasted like shredded cardboard, but I barely noticed.

Halfway through my meal, everything finally caught up with me. One minute I was staring blankly down at my food, the next I was bawling my eyes out. I'd never felt so utterly lost before. My life had always felt like it had been on rails, with the next stop visible just a little way up the track. School, a law degree, internships, a job; everything had unfolded as planned. But now suddenly, the track had collapsed underneath me, leaving me wobbling at the edge of a precipice. I had no idea where to go from here.

It was soul destroying to watch six years of hard work crumble to dust before my eyes. The prospect of starting again from scratch was impossibly daunting. I lay my arms on the breakfast bar and buried my head between them, sobbing until I felt like my eyes were just empty husks.

The worst part was, I had no way to distract myself. I was going to wake up tomorrow with nothing to do. And the day after that. And the day after that. That was a terrifying prospect. I thrived on hard work, on meeting deadlines and tackling problems. That was my drug. Without that, I had nothing. Just endless time to consider where I'd gone wrong.

The urge to call Sebastian was incredibly strong. I didn't even know if he'd answer, or what I'd say if he did. Nothing had changed between us. But I was desperate to hear that soothing voice, to wrap my arms around him and hold on for dear life before the weight of it all pulled me under.

But I restrained myself. I couldn't deal with any more heartbreak at the moment. Instead I popped a couple of Valium I had left over from my last international trip, and curled up on the couch.

For now, oblivion would do.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The letter arrived two days later.

For a while I just stared, unsure whether I should even open it. Seeing Sebastian's flowing script used to fill me with excitement, but now there was only trepidation. I wasn't sure I was ready to deal with whatever he had to say, not on top of everything else. This wasn't a reconciliation. You didn't fix our sorts of problems by post.

But in the end I knew I couldn't ignore it. Too much had passed between us for that. With trembling hands, I tore open the seal.

Sophia.

I'm sorry to do this in writing. I wanted to come to you — I nearly did several times — but I'm afraid of what will happen if I do. I always thought I was a strong man, but you have this way of making me feel utterly powerless. I'm worried I'll break yet again.

I'm so sorry that things have to end this way. It sounds hollow and empty, but I never meant to hurt you. I really thought that maybe I could do this again, that things would be different this time. But now I see how impossible that is. I can never have a normal life. The risks are just too great.