What the Heart Needs (13 page)

Apparently everyone thought she was the office whore. And some of the men thought it appropriate to whisper suggestive things to her as she passed by. They would pinch or pat her ass in the elevator and wink at her when she shot them a look. She resisted the urge to turn around and slap them, to scream in their faces, to give them a withering ear lashing. They would only throw her reputation back at her.

Then there were the notes. They were never ending. Everytime she went back to her office, there one was. Many were similar to first one- calling her a slut and declaring that EM was not hers.

She managed to shrug those off without it much effort. But whomever the sender was must have sensed their lack of impact and decided to get more pointed, more cruel. Almost threatening.

You stupid bitch. How many times do I have to tell you to back off? Elliott Michaels is not yours to throw yourself at. Don’t think that just because you caught him in a weak moment and seduced him that it means anything at all. He would never want someone as stupid and wanton as you. Why wont you just quit already? You would do us all a favor for not having to see your slut face around here anymore.

Hannah could feel anxiety pulse like electricity underneath her skin. It was a constant, uneasy sensation that made her feel dizzy and unsteady.

Quit now or you are going to regret it.

She didn’t know why she didn’t just quit. Every aspect of her job was draining her of her sanity. EM was as demanding as ever, his hectic schedule a constant drain on her own mental capacities.

And she had never really gotten over the night in her office. Despite telling herself she wouldn’t think about it, she would lay awake at night, clutching her pillow and replaying the whole event in her head for hours. It left her feeling unfulfilled and edgy. She was never the type of woman who was often overcome with sexual frustration. Her experience, the one time she let Sam pull off her clothes and fumble with teenaged inexperience, she had felt such embarrassment and pain that she never thought she would ever want to do it again.

She had pretty successfully avoided all those persky sensations until EM came charging into her life.

Why he was the exception was beyond her comprehension. She had met men, especially in college, who she had been much more attracted to. They were always charming with warm eyes and easy smiles. They had good senses of humor and boyish charm. She had never been attracted to the cold and distant types before- the law majors and often the art students. She had dated many who fit into her category and it had never gone much past heaving necking sessions on tiny college beds or in front seats of their cars. Somehow she had always lost interest before the guys would get too eager to get her into bed.

Then there was Elliott Michaels who was everything she had never wanted who had her feeling things she forgot existed.

He just wants to use you. You’re not unique. He has taken countless women like you into his bed. And every one of you lost their jobs. And everyone at this office knew why. Slut after slut. Don’t deulude yourself to think he thinks of you as anything else.

Her nights were getting longer. She would leave the office and go home to cry. What was keeping her there? The money? She looked around her apartment that she barely ever got to see anymore. She hadn’t even used any of it. She worked most weekends running all the various errands for EM that she couldn’t get to during work hours. She didn’t have a bunch of new clothes or jewelry. Her furniture was as shabby as ever. Sure it was nice to see the money piling up in her bank account. And she knew that if she quit, it would only get her so far and she wouldn’t be eligible for unemployment again for a while.

The money was important. There was no way to deny that. But there was something else and she didn’t want to even explore what it was.

Where do you get off all high and mighty? Do you really think you are on the same level as him? He build a multi-million dollar company out of his own determination and guts. You make coffee and file his paperwork. You are the dirt beneath his feet. Hand in your letter of resignation before you regret staying.

She liked the challenge. She liked the idea that if she stayed in his good graces, she could expect to make an actual career out of her job. EM Corporation was known for giving exceptional workers better positions in time. If she stuck it out and proved herself, she could see herself being in a position of more power, making money she could only ever dream about.

Everyone here hates you. We all see you for what you are, a pathetic, weak, opportunist.

She liked, oh god, she liked EM. She never thought it would be possible but, as much as she loathed him at times, she admired him. She looked up to him. He was an exceptional example of what people were capable of if they set their mind to something and refused to let anything get in their way.

She wanted to emulate that. She wanted to be able to look past all the naysayers spreading lies about her. She wanted to be able to hold her head high and let everyone there know that she was better than them, she wouldn’t let them get her down. She knew that she was there by her own merit. She knew she was going places if she stuck with it.

It was absolutely not a factor that she was sexually attracted to him. That was over. It was never going to happen again. It was a moment of weakness for both of them and she was never going to let that happen again.

You will never deserve him. You are not successful. You are not attractive. You are nothing.

Hannah felt a pang each time a letter came. She told herself she wouldn’t. She told herself to not open the notes. But something inside her needed to know what it said. And despite knowing that they were written by an obviously jealous and unsound mind, it didn’t stop the words from stinging somewhere deep inside of her where she constantly tried to keep her insecurity buried. She couldn’t stop herself from identifying as the miserably pathetic person she was being painted out to be.

It was hard to stay strong when ten or fifteen notes a day came screaming otherwise.

Sleeping was becoming more a hassle than ever before. Where she used to fall into the bed, utterly exhausted and pass out in five minutes, she laid awake for hours. Her restless mind would replay the words with painfully vivid recollection. After a while, she almost stopped sleeping altogether. She would fall asleep to nightmares that woke her before an hour would even pass.

She was being stalked and followed. She was falling. She was being chased by a pack of feral dogs.

We will get you out of here one way or another.

Her body was starting to feel foreign to her. Sleep deprivation was making her feel detached from herself and everything around her. She drank coffee in excess to keep her functioning through the fog of exhaustion. It had her feeling jumpy and jittery. Food wasn’t something she thought about. Beyond her knowledge that there was nothing wrong with her body, constant comments on her weight had obviously allowed body negativity to take root. If she ate anything from one day to the next, it was a lot.

She felt her clothes starting to hang loose.

Stop fighting it. You’re a wreck. You’re miserable. Your plan is failing. You should just kill yourself already.

Hannah’s hands shook as she put the letter down on top of the pile of all the others. She wasn’t sure why she was keeping them, in a pink and tan decorative storage box in the bottom drawer of her desk.

“Knock knock,” Tad said from the doorway, holding a cup of tea and a plate of cookies. He placed them down in front of her, picking at one of the cookies himself. When she didn’t reach for one herself, he sighed. “You have to friggen eat, Hannah,” he said, his voice at once irritated and worried.

“I’m not hungry,” she said, taking a sip of the tea and wincing. He brought her chaomomile.

“Bull. You’re wasting away. If you don’t eat this plate of cookies, I am going to shove them down your throat.” When she scoffed, Tad leaned closer. “Try me.”

Hannah rolled her eyes but took a cookie and bit into it. It tasted plain, like cardboard even though she knew it was loaded with sugar.

“What the hell is going on with you? This eating disorder thing you got going on is ridiculous. You were perfect.”

Hannah felt irriatation gurgle up in her belly. “I do not have an eating disorder,” she said, sounding snippy.

“When is the last time you ate anything?” Tad asked and when there was a long silence, he nodded. “exactly.”

Hannah took a sip of the tea to wash down the crumbs of the cookie. “I’m fine, Tad.”

“You’re a mess. An absolute mess, Hannah-Banana. I know the rumors have been nonstop but you just have to try not to let them get to you.”

“Could you?” Hannah asked, looking up with him with all of her frustration and defeat.

Tad looked at her for a long minute before shaking his head. “No. And I never thought I would say this… but maybe you should leave.”

Hannah shook her head, looking away. “That’s what they want.”

Tad shot her a weird look, “You don’t know that.”

“Trust me,” Hannah said, taking another cookie. “I know.”

No one is your friend here. Everyone is waiting for you to slit your wrists or down a bottle of aspirin. Do it already.

--

Something was going on in the office. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was there just under the surface of efficiency and productivity. But there was a tangible unease he felt as soon as he walked into the building.

As a boss, he knew it was important to get ahead of all office changes. He put very strong people in charge for that very reason. He couldn’t have nonsense taking root and sprouting all over. It was poor for morale. People always react like the animals they truly are- they herd together. One person’s dissatisfaction is manageable. But once it spreads, every soul falls prey to the feelings. And before long, there is an absolute lack of company loyalty and, therefore, lack of good working conditions and poor job quality.

Unfortunately, it was impossible for him to get to the root of the issue. Everyone tip-toed around him. Everyone feared for their discovery. Everyone knew he could easily get rid of them, like a person flicking a fly.

Everywhere he went, there was a hush. Normal, everyday office chatter ceased and all that could be heard was typing and phones ringing and the shuffling of papers. It wasn’t new. No one wanted their boss to know what they were talking about at work. But somehow now it seemed more pronounced than ever.

He felt particularly concerned because he sensed hostility instead of a general frustration or malaise. It wasn’t something he ever before noticed in his employees as a whole. If they were angry at management, at him, there was going to be a problem. And soon.

Brushing off the uneasy feeling, Elliott opened his office door to find Hannah gathering paperwork.

She was something else that was weighing heavy on his mind. Not just because he couldn’t stop thinking about her lips. He woke up in a sweat night after night, having had dreams about taking her breasts in his hands, sucking on the nipples or the feeling of her naked body pressing him into his bed. He wanted her more than he had wanted anyone in years. She was a constant sexual temptation.

He was determined to give her the space she obviously wanted. There had been no doubt in his mind that she regretted the night in her office, despite how much he knew she wanted him. She wasn’t the kind of woman who slept with her boss. She took her job more seriously than he had ever seen any of his assistants and it was clear that she wanted to go places in her life. Screwing around with the people in charge wasn’t the way she was going to do that.

But it wasn’t just the attraction. Something was wrong with Hannah. He was ashamed to admit that he had taken so long to notice it for himself. He saw the unusual, worried looks Tad cast in her direction, but thought nothing of it. They were friends, friends had their own sort of language.

But then he finally saw the marked difference when she wore the shirt he had bought to replace the one she ruined with coffee. He had bought it to fit her frame, snug but giving. When she wore it again, it was especially loose across the bust and waist. He was inclined at first to blame washing it too frequently, but it was only the second time she had ever had it on.

Then he started looking at her, really looking at her. For a while he had been seeing her like the woman he had imagined in his mind, not the actual woman in front of him. He saw her in that pink dress, looking sweet and beautiful. He saw her with passion in her eyes as her fingers sank into his back.

Somehow he had overlooked the fact that her face was looking sunken. Her cheekbone hollows were etched deeper, losing the plumpness over the apples of her cheeks. He could see the outline of her collarbone, the delicateness of her wrists. She was losing weight.

Normally he would blame a diet. Every woman he knew was constantly trying to lose the last five or ten pounds, regardless of how thin they were. But Hannah had always seemed comfortable in her own skin. She wasn’t model-thin and she wasn’t heavy. She had a soft, curvaceous, womanly body. It was the kind of body most men would claim to love, not the super skinny women who graced magazine covers.

Hannah didn’t seem the kind of woman to diet.

Fleetingly he wondered about her health. She was even paler than ever, though she was practically ghostly to begin with. Maybe she hadn’t been well and he hadn’t noticed.

At the sound of the door closing, she visibly jumped. Even when she saw him standing there, he noticed her hands were still shaking.

“Good morning,” she said, not even bothering to fake a smile.

“Morning,” he grumbled back, looking at her intently.

She looked exhausted. He was familiar with not sleeping at its effects, but this was different. She had the hollow expression of someone who hadn’t had a full night of sleep in weeks. Her lovely grey eyes were sunken and deep purple smudges were underneath them, almost resembling bruises.