It just makes me angrier, that she’s lived like this for so long, she’s used to it. “No, it’s not fucking fine! Get your things. You’re coming back to my place.”
Somehow, she remains calm. “I think this is why we have the guidelines in place.”
I fume. I’m surprised the air that comes out of me isn’t steaming. She might be okay living here, but I’m not okay with it. She deserves better. She deserves to live somewhere safe, not roach ridden, and dusty. “Clarissa. I’m not negotiating this.”
The air between weighs with disagreement.
She hunkers down. “Me either. If you say one more word about the living arrangements, I’m going to pull out of this agreement.”
I clamp my mouth shut. Now that she’s agreed to this, I don’t know how I’ll feel if she backs out.
“Fine.”
She nods, pleased with her win. “Now will you kindly go outside so I can get dressed so I can get ready for our meeting?”
I laugh, making my way out the door. “You worried I’m going to watch? Don’t worry, you’re not my type.”
“Intelligent?”
“A little hellion.”
CLARISSA
E
veryone watches us as we walk through the lobby of Baxter Tower. I don’t know if it’s just because they know something is happening, or if this is just what it’s like to be with Matthias. Damien is a Baxter brother, but Sydney is a different beast to Manhattan.
A striking older woman is waiting outside Matthias’s private elevator when the door opens on his office floor.
“Hello, Mr. Baxter. Ms. Masters,” she greets us with a nod.
He rolls his eyes and gently touches my back as he leads me out of the elevator and into his office. I’m still not used to him touching me, and my skin tingles where he touched.
“Hannah doesn’t usually call me ‘Mr. Baxter’ so she’s probably just trying to impress you. That, or trying to make me look good to you. Hannah knows everything around here. Right?”
She huffs, dropping a stack of files onto Matthias’s desk. “I don’t know what you mean. But if you don’t like ‘Mr. Baxter,’ would you like me to call you ‘master’ like you normally make me do in private?”
I can’t help but look at them both with my mouth open. I have had my own assistants and also worked with my family’s and never have we ever spoken to each other like that. Melissa, Damien’s assistant, was much too familiar with me, and I made it known that I preferred that she didn’t. She pretty much ignored me after that, and I’m sure she didn’t pass my messages on to Damien. But he wouldn’t hear a word against her.
I’m getting the eerie feeling that Matthias and Hannah have the same kind of relationship and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
“Ms. Masters, can I get you anything? We make a mean latte, or would you like some tea? There isn’t a kind we don’t have. Ms. Tran always makes sure we have enough.”
Ms. Tran? I glance at Matthias who is making a signal to his assistant to stop talking, and then it occurs to me. Ms. Tran is My-Linh, Damien’s fiancee. The tea, it’s hers. Of course, it is. Even half way around the world I can’t escape her.
Hannah leans in, touching me gently on the shoulder. “Or I can get you absolutely anything you would like.” Her friendliness toward me is unnerving more than comforting, and for the first time I can’t help wondering if that’s just me, and that at some point in my life I chose to doubt people’s kindness rather than trust it. I can’t tell if that instinct has helped me or hurt me more.
“I’m okay, thank you,” I respond.
“Get her a bottle of water, a chamomile tea and a croissant, please, Hannah. And close the door behind you.”
“I don’t need anything,” I argue, almost out of habit. Truth is, I’m both parched and hungry. I’d drunken all of the tea Matthias had brought me last night in the few hours I’d been there. When I woke up, there was a bottle of orange juice left on the nightstand and I’d downed all, as well. It’s like, once I’d actually started to drink, my brain remembered what it was like to be hydrated and demanded more.
“Sit down.” He points to the leather couch as he strides over to his desk, grabbing one of the folders.
I sit, only because I have a feeling that I’m going to have to pick my battles with him. And this isn’t one I really care about winning.
The office door opens, and a head pokes through. Matthias waves for him to come in and gestures to me.
The man smiles and places a tray with a bottle of cold water, a teapot, and a plate with three pastries on them in front of me. “Can I get anything else for you, Ms. Masters?”
I shake my head. Which is a mistake. It instantly feels like my brain has crashed against the side of my skull. I grab my head and grimace.
“I hate when you do that,” Matthias says as he walks over and joins me on the couch.
“Do what?”
“This.” He adopts a wince. Then he reaches over and pours a cup of tea for me. “Drink this.”
I scowl. “You’re really fucking bossy. I can pour my own tea.”
“Literally no one has ever called me bossy before,” he says, looking offended.
The expression combined with his words makes me let out a laugh that surprises us both. “Sorry. I just have never heard anyone ever say anything so ridiculous before.”
“It’s okay. It’s been a while since I last heard you laugh. Anyway, I wasn’t being bossy.” I give him a look. “I wasn’t just being bossy. You need the tea for these.” He pulls a little orange bottle out of his suit pocket and holds it out to me.