8: The Second Shock

“Ms. Voss, my office, now.”

His voice through the intercom is deadly calm and somehow that’s worse than if he was yelling, and my legs feel like jelly as I stand up and walk toward his door.

I can see him through the glass sitting at his desk with that cup in front of him, and his jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping, oh god I’m going to get fired on my first day.

I open the door and step inside then close it behind me.

“I can explain—” I start but he holds up one hand and I stop talking.

“Explain what exactly, Ms. Voss?”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to?” He stands up and picks up the cup. “Taste it.”

“What?”

“I said taste it, surely you won’t mind drinking it yourself.”

He walks around his desk toward me holding out the cup and I take a step back.

“I made a mistake, I wasn’t thinking straight—”

“Taste. It.” He’s right in front of me now holding the cup out and his eyes are that cold gray that makes me feel like I’m being evaluated and found wanting.

I take the cup because what choice do I have and I bring it to my lips and take the smallest sip possible, and immediately my mouth is on fire, it was so awful I have to fight not to spit it out.

I swallow and it burns going down and my eyes are watering.

“I’m sorry—” I try to hand the cup back but he doesn’t take it.

“You’re sorry,” he repeats and his voice is flat. “You’re sorry that you wasted my time, wasted expensive coffee beans, and tried to poison me

is that what you’re sorry for?”

“I wasn’t thinking—”

“No, you weren’t thinking, and that’s the problem, Ms. Voss, you don’t think.” He takes the cup from me and sets it on his desk. “You act on impulse and emotion like a child and you expect there to be no consequences.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t act like a child if you didn’t treat me like one,” I say and my voice comes out louder than I meant it to then I remembered who I was talking to so I lowered my voice before continuing. “

“I apologize, I wasn’t thinking straight, I’ll make another one right now—”

“You’ll make another one?” He laughs but there’s no humor in it.

“I followed your instructions perfectly the first six times—”

“And then you decided to get creative with the seventh, is that it?” His voice drops lower and there’s something dangerous in it.

“It was an honest mistake—”

“It was deliberate and we both know it.” He moves closer and I’m backing up until I hit the wall behind me. “You’re impulsive and reckless and the only reason I’m not firing you right now is because I don’t have time to find a replacement before my eight AM meeting tomorrow.”

“Then fire me,” I say quietly. “I quit, I’m done, I’m tired of this.”

“You can’t quit.”

“Yes I can, I’ll walk out right now—”

“Check your contract, Ms. Voss, specifically the section about termination, if you quit before then you forfeit your salary and you’ll owe the company.”

I stare at him because that can’t be right. “That wasn’t in the contract you sent me—”

“It was in the NDA you signed this morning in the elevator, section twelve, subsection C, perhaps you should have read it more carefully before signing.”

“You trapped me,” I whisper and I can feel tears starting to burn behind my eyes. “You trapped me in this horrible job where you can control me and humiliate me—”

“I gave you the job you asked for—”

“Stop talking to me like I’m stupid! You’ve done nothing but tear me down all day, making me redo the same task over and over like I’m incompetent—”

“You want actual work?” His voice is getting louder now too. “You can’t even make coffee and you think I should trust you with actual responsibilities?”

“I made one mistake—”

“One intentional—”

“Because you’re impossible to work for!” I’m yelling now and I don’t care who hears. “Maybe you should have just gotten rid of me instead of trapping me—”

I shove his chest again and this time he catches my wrist and suddenly we’re very close, too close, and I can feel the heat radiating off him.

“Don’t push me,” he says and his voice is low and dangerous.

“Or what? You’ll fire me? Go ahead, at least then I won’t have to spend every day making coffee for someone who thinks I’m worthless—”

“I don’t think you’re worthless—”

“Yes you do, you’ve made that very clear—” I try to pull my wrist away but his grip tightens.

“Stop—”

“Let go of me—”

“Astrid—”

He grabs my other arm and suddenly there’s this shock, this electric current that runs from where his hands touch my skin straight through my entire body, and I gasp and my knees buckle and he gasps too and we’re both frozen there.

It’s like being struck by lightning except it doesn’t hurt, it’s warm, tingling and spreading through every nerve ending.

He releases me immediately and stumbles backward.

“No,” he says and his voice is rough. “Not you, this can’t—this isn’t—”

“What was that?!” I’m panting and my legs are shaking and my whole body is still tingling. “What did you do to me?!”

“I didn’t—that wasn’t—” He runs his hand through his hair. “You need to leave.”

“You need to explain what just happened—”

“Get out.”

“Tell me what that was—”

“Get out of my office, Astrid, I mean it, leave now.”

He turns and walks out of his own office, leaving me standing there alone.

I stand there for probably five minutes trying to get my legs to work properly, and when I finally make it back to my office I grab my bag and practically run to the elevator.

The driver is waiting downstairs and if he notices how rattled I look he doesn’t comment, and I spend the entire ride home staring out the window and trying not to think about the feeling of Rhys’s hands on my arms and the electric shock that ran through my entire body.

-----

Tuesday morning I wake up to an email that just says “Off-site meetings today, will not be in the office, complete the task list I’ve sent separately.”

I open the second email and there’s a list of about thirty different tasks, all clearly designed to keep me busy and away from him.

I get to the office at eight and his office is l empty. I sit at my desk and stare at the task list trying to focus, but I keep thinking about yesterday.

By ten I give up on focusing and go down to see Lena.

She takes one look at me and says “What happened?”

“I’m fine, just tired—”

“Astrid.” She puts down her trail mix. “What did he do?”

“Nothing, he’s not even in the office today—”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

I sit down in her stolen stool and I want to tell her everything but I can’t because of the stupid NDA, so instead I just say “I think I made a huge mistake taking this job.”

“Why? What happened yesterday?”

“He just—he made me make coffee all day, like that was my only task, just coffee over and over, and I messed up the last one and he was so angry—”

“He yelled at you for making bad coffee?”

“Kind of, and then we got into this fight and he grabbed my arm and there was this—” I stop because I can’t explain the electric shock without explaining everything else.

“There was this what?”

“Nothing, just forget it, I’m being dramatic.”

Lena leans forward and looks me straight in the eye. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, nothing like that, it was just weird and I don’t know how to explain it.”

She doesn’t look convinced but she doesn’t push, and I spend another ten minutes with her before heading back upstairs because I have thirty tasks to complete and avoiding them won’t help.

The day drags by and I keep glancing at his empty office through the glass wall.

At four thirty I hear the elevator and I look up and there he is, walking past my office toward his without even glancing at me, and he goes inside and closes the door and a minute later I hear the lock click.

I stare at that locked door for a long moment and then I go back to the task list, and over the next hour he sends me six more emails with work assignments.

At six I finish everything on the list and I send him an email saying I’m done, and his response comes back immediately.

“Leave for the day. See you tomorrow at 8 AM.”

I gather my stuff and I walk to his door and I try the handle even though I know it’s locked, and it is.

“I know you’re in there,” I say to the locked door. “And I know you’re avoiding me.”

There’s no response.

“Mr. Blackwood—”

Still nothing.

“Rhys—”

But the door doesn’t open.