Chapter 33

Derek’s face finds mine, his own dark eyes baring into my soul.

“Esme.”

It’s only one word, but God does it pack a powerful punch.

“I’m fine.”

I don’t even mean to say it so quickly; it’s almost like I’m pushing back at him for something.

“What?” He asks.

I finally pull myself away from the wall slowly so as to not upset the universe any further. My body is shaking like I’ve been put on vibrate.

“I’m sorry. Thank you, Derek, for coming to my aid. But I know how to take care of myself.” The insistence may be a bit muddy, though, considering Derek caught Ken with his hands groping my breasts.

That’s not something I can just thank him for. That’s something I have to make him forget and move on from.

Just like I did years ago.

“Esme?” His tone is confused, and he actually cocks his head to the side like a curious pet. “What happened to you was—”

I interrupt him. “It was nothing. It happens.”

His eyebrows jump up in alarm. “What on earth does that mean?” I’m not used to his voice growing so high, clearly distressed. Is this because of that bastard Ken or because of everything that has piled on my shoulders he’s had to take on?

“Esme, do you hear yourself right now?”

I nod. “Yes, I do.”

Still stunned, he stands up and closes the door to my office slowly, continuing to face the door instead of me. The click sounds from the door, and the room fills with an uncomfortable silence.

“Esme. I need you to be honest with me right now. No bullshit, no skirting around the issue, and absolutely do not lie to me. What the hell is going on with you?”

“You think it’s that easy? Just ask nicely, and I’ll just tell you my secrets?” The words fall from my lips without even a second thought.

“I don’t understand your frustrations or rash actions lately!” He whips around to face me, and the fear on Derek’s face reminds me of that day at the pool. The day he kissed me.

“Esme, each and every chance I give you to open up, to get through whatever you’re fighting, or even feel like you have someone to talk to, you immediately shut down, close down like a prison!”

I know he means well. I do. Because he’s proven he’s not just a good boss or even a good man. He’s a good father.

Hasn’t he been through something so painful that the very idea of talking about it eats away at your insides? The very thought of broaching the subject, letting a single person in to learn every secret, fuels my fear.

“I’ve told you, Derek. There isn’t anything going on with me, and you interfered with that bumbling asshat, which I appreciate. But…” I clear my throat. “I wish you’d allowed me to fight this battle on my own.”

“That man,” he snarls, pointing his finger to the closed door that he stands next to. “Was sexually assaulting you, disrespecting you, being horribly rude and insensitive, and you tell me you wanted to fight this battle alone?”

I nod, feeling anger creeping up. “Yes!”

“Ludicrous!” He yells back.

I slam my hand down on the table. “I don’t need yet another man who feels sorry for me!”

Derek’s dark eyes grow wider, looking horrified.

“Who said that I feel sorry for you? You’re my employee, a human being! What does any of this have to do with feeling sorry?”

I clench my fists tight, wanting to scream the truth, the whole pathetic, angry truth.

“You’d never understand. You’re you, Derek. I’m this mess of a woman who can’t even hold onto her husband.”

“And you think I don’t know anything about that? That I am nothing more than a common man with no struggles or pain?”

I scoff without even blinking. “You are not just a common man!”

“And why is that?”

I throw my arms up wildly to indicate around to him as if he’s blind to what surrounds us.

“Let me just remind you where we are! In your division!”

Now it’s his turn to snort.

“You’re too busy being in charge of everyone else, of making sacrifices and being Derek Anderson. You are unaware of any common person because you live in a castle a thousand feet above the rest of us.”

Derek shakes his head like I’ve just told him I have two heads. His mind must be reeling to come up with answers to these arguments, but he won’t win.

“You don’t know anything about the world I live in, that I come from, that I lock away every single time I open my eyes from a rest that doesn’t prove to help!”

He takes that opening and steps forward. “Then let me buy you a drink after work. Talk to me, Esme. You’re my neighbor, not just someone I pay.”

I shake my head slowly. “No.”

“Why ‘no’? Why?” He steps closer. “Give me a good reason for any of this bullshit!”

I laugh without even meaning to, exhausted, fed up, and ready to break into a fit of tears all at once.

“I am giving you a direct order, Esme!”

“My personal life doesn’t enter this office space!” What a lie. “I come in here, and no matter how tired, annoyed, frustrated, scared, or torn down I feel, I do my job just like everyone else.”

Another step forward from Derek. He’s maybe five or six feet away from me now, closing in on me. It feels like I’m absolutely suffocating.

“Then let me buy you a drink after work. As an apology. From your friend.”

Is that what I want from him? Do I want a friendship, or is that too complicated? Someone should have warned me about these damn hormones.

“I’m fine, Derek, please!”

“I don’t understand you!”

I let one sharp bark of a laugh explode out of me. “Because you’ll never know the feeling of a man believing he must save you to prove himself worthy of anything!”

I feel the impact of those words as I scream them out. I’m honestly shocked I haven’t already been fired. With the way I’ve continued to speak toward him, he has every right to claim insubordination and strip me of everything I’ve worked so hard for.

So why on earth do I not seem to care?

I plant myself into my office chair, grabbing the paperwork I’d been going through when that sick fuck had walked into my office. It’s absolutely worthless because no one will ever know the truth of this argument.

I see Derek’s hands plant firmly on the wood of my desk, and his scent grows stronger as he leans closer to me. I force myself to ignore and dismiss his reactions, knowing that the less he knows, the goddamn better.

“Esme. I have continued to believe you to be an incredibly strong woman with high morals and a good heart. Don’t keep fighting me on all of this, be honest with me. If not as your neighbor, your boss, or even a man. But as your friend.”

I want to let another laugh loose in his face as if what he’s said is the funniest sentence on earth.

But I don’t.

I ignore his words, my mind swirling while the papers move across my desk, each one receiving the time and signatures it needs.

We may have lost the Max project, but I’ll be damned if more is shattered from underneath us.

“I can see you’re hurting, and I am trying my damn best to be privy to your pain.”

I wonder how severely Ken may be punished. I don’t doubt Derek will make Ken miserable for the rest of his life.

In truth, maybe they’ll harass him back. Or just quite literally kick his ass into the streets and let him get that pathetic grey suit soiled.

“Bea and Tris have nightmares so frequently that they don’t realize they’re shouting for me in their sleep. Sometimes, it’s as if I’m living the life of a movie character. Someone else holds the script. Not me.”

I do my best not to squeeze my eyes shut. Images, visions, and sounds begin to fight for the front spot of my mind. The past is swirling around me in a tornado hell, and I feel a wave of nausea wash over me.

Derek better leave or he’s about to lose those incredibly expensive dress shoes.

“Esme.” His voice is barely a whisper, pleading with me.

I pick up the phone and begin to dial one of the other department members that might have the answers to a question I’ve been meaning to ask her.

“Hey, Carly, I wanted to ask you about one of your projects for the Fierce campaign?” I ask, somewhat loudly, to prove to Derek that he isn’t getting anything out of me.

Carly starts talking, but I don’t hear a word she utters. Derek finally takes the hint, and he sulks out of the office, slamming my door behind me.

I can’t stop myself from jumping in my seat, the screams and echoes of my past reverberating around me.

I apologize to Carly, explaining that I “have an important call on the other line,” and I’ll have to call her later.

I hang up the phone, but immediately I pull it off the receiver so it can’t ring. I quickly get up and speed-walk toward my door, covering the singular door window with its tiny shade.

I lock the door last, then turn to use the door as leverage to lean back.

“Breathe, Esme, breathe.”

But it’s not so easy, because the memories are rushing in so fast it’s as if they’re really a tsunami of trauma all barreling toward me as if to expect me to work with it.

Instead, with my locked door, the window shade, and my phone off the hook, I slowly slide my way down the door onto the floor; the numbness I do everything in my power to control finally explodes out of me.

“There, there,” a voice in my memories comforts me. “It’s all okay, baby, let it out.”

I shiver and shake as I try to clear my head from these memories I choose not to remember.

God. Derek really believes he can deal with someone like me in his office.

I’m shocked I haven’t been fired yet.

But then again, most things feel like they’ve been designed just to shock me.