Tell Me You Want Me by Willow Winters
Suzette
It’s difficult, and unladylike, to eat yogurt and talk at the same time, but I’m managing it. Gail shovels a handful of almonds and raisins into her mouth as well, completely unfazed. We’re both rushing through lunch and it’s not uncommon in the least. Today is different, though. It feels as if everything is riding on this one task delegated from the “team.”
Projected profits and client referrals based on previous numbers. A.k.a., how profitable is our division on its own? I’m more than certain we’ll impress. Perhaps it’s cocky or arrogant, but I know we’re damn good at what we do and, as Gail so eloquently put it, it’s time to whip our dicks out.
Lunch break be damned.
Maddie sits on one end of my desk, watching the conversation as she eats her caesar salad, and another of our coworkers is at her side. His name is Dale and Dale is … well, he’s Dale. He’s got a sharp eye for marketing, but his social skills are subpar. So he stays in his cubicle avoiding us as much as he can.
Today, I wish he’d done just that. There’s an uneasiness about him and it puts a damper on the atmosphere that would otherwise be motivating.
“No, listen,” I say to Dale. “I have an idea I want to pitch to you before we part ways again and you leave us to the figures.”
“I’m not sure you should be pitching any ideas.” He gives me a look that definitely means something and my face goes hot.
“What do you mean? I always pitch you ideas. It’s no different for me to do it right now.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Even with all the rumors flying around the office?” At once, my ears turn red hot. Gail pauses mid-chew, her dark brown eyes going wide and Maddie peeks up from her salad.
My heart drops in nervousness. “What rumors?”
“People have seen you with a certain someone,” Dale says, his gaze darting toward the elevator.
“Who?” Maddie asks. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. With numb fingers I drop the mostly eaten yogurt to the small trash can.
As I do, I shoot her a look that gives her all the information she needs to know. Betrayal doesn’t pair well with the sweet yogurt. It tastes far too sour.
Her mouth drops open. Two weeks of seeing Adrian nearly every day, and it was bound to happen. Shakily, I sip my water and take a few deep breaths to calm down, not responding at all to Dale.
“You’re seeing him, aren’t you?” Gail questions to my left. All eyes are on me and I fucking hate it. I knew this would happen. Office trysts always get out. I just wish it wasn’t today of all freaking days.
Dale watches me carefully, as if he’s not sure he can trust me anymore. I don’t like that feeling. It’s a sensation of being accused of something, though he is right that I’m seeing Adrian.
I nod in confirmation. The corners of Dale’s mouth turn down. “So he sleeps with you on the weekend and then fires your coworkers on Monday.”
A chill runs through me at his bluntness, but my back straightens.
Sighing, I put the bottle of water down on my desk. “That’s pretty much how it is.” My tone is bitchy yet stern as I meet his gaze head-on.
“And none of that has anything to do with the last decade of work I’ve put into this client list. So,” I say and glance over my shoulder at Gail, “back to putting together this presentation because as much as I wish fucking Adrian would save our asses, we both made it very clear that lines would not blur.” I pause, waiting for Dale to say anything at all. For Maddie or Gail to pipe up.
A long moment passes with a heat tingling at the back of my neck.
“What if you tried blow jobs too?” Maddie says, then shrugs and Dale shakes his head although there’s a hint of his smile showing.
Gail is less than impressed. “I need a moment,” is all she says before walking out, leaving that pit in my stomach to weigh heavier.
That particular feeling only grows as the day progresses. Each time, it grows and grows until I feel like I could throw up.
The rumor is confirmed within minutes. It’s easy to tell when each of them know.
Dale was correct that Adrian does the firing, and not me, but it’s me who my coworkers come to for answers when it’s done. All of them are upset, and nothing I can say offers them any comfort.
It’s as if my office becomes the place to vent. The place for them to safely unleash their anger. Unfortunately for me, it also appears to be the day the graphics department is getting culled.
So one after the other pass snide looks my way before heading to their office with empty boxes to clear out their things.
They just lost their jobs. I feel compassion for them, even the ones I didn’t get along with very well. Frustration mounts and I’m more upset than ever toward the end of the day.
A woman who’s just been let go comes into my office at three. “What the hell, Suzette?” Her face is almost white, and her voice shakes from how upset she is. “Half of the department was just let go.”
“He’s rearranging things,” I say helplessly. “I’m so sorry.”
“Let me guess, there’s nothing you can do.”
“I’m sorry,” is my only reply. I can’t give her anything else. I’m not the owner of the company; Adrian is, and I’m not even the second step down in the company. “I have no input or authority.”
“Wonderful,” she says sarcastically. “Goodbye, Suzette.”
A few minutes later, another person who has been fired storms across the hall. He turns his head and stares at me on his way past, but doesn’t say a word.
It’s not until Gail comes back, taking her seat and appearing on the verge of tears. “If you knew something, you would tell me, right?” We’ve worked together for years and I’ve never seen her like this. Her tan skin is flushed. “If I’m going to lose my job, I just need to know so—” her voice cracks and I can’t take it.
“The second I know anything—”
“Could you ask him?” She stresses, “Please?” Her dark brown eyes eyes are rimmed in red and I know she’s a mess witnessing so many layoffs so quickly and with whispers of a merger, where our jobs would no doubt overlap with others and thus, more layoffs.
“Please,” she begs me. With a nod, and a tight swallow, I agree.
“I can ask him,” I tell her and then I firm up my response. “I’ll ask him today.”
Sitting here and waiting for an answer isn’t enough, not for me and not for the team members I have left. I’ve worked far too hard for this company to let it all go to shit like this. If we lose Gail, the report we put together today is irrelevant. Clients stay with us because of the team. We can’t break down like this.
I won’t let it happen.
At five forty-five, I knock on the door to Adrian’s office. Shaking out my hands, I prepare myself. Not the version of me he sees after six. But the version who existed before that man dared to walk through the doors to this building. The badass businesswoman who doesn’t take any shit.
It’s a small blessing that his secretary is gone for the day and her desk is empty now. Most of the building is cleared out, but not everyone. And I have fifteen minutes. He can offer me fifteen minutes if it means saving the most profitable department in this company.
“Come in,” Adrian calls from inside the office.
Steeling myself, I open the door and go in, then close it behind me. The move is fast and I say a silent thank you that his door was unlocked.
Before he can say a word, I approach his desk. It seems to take forever and the scent of all people’s fear as they got fired today hangs in the air. His large, spacious office must have seemed like an awful joke to the people who lost their jobs. I could be one of them, and Adrian is the only one who can confirm my fear or dismiss it. That’s why I’m here. This conversation is needed, because I can’t sit at my desk for another day with nothing to say to the people I’ve worked with for years as they file out past me. I handpicked my department. They should be able to rely on me.
“My department is essential to what our company does,” I begin, without waiting for his permission. I don’t need it outside of the games we play. “If you want to keep the company going, you’ll need to keep the core team intact. Every single one of them is essential, and I can vouch for them and their work.”
Adrian shifts in his seat, his dark suit crisp, his expression inscrutable. As he leans back, his hands relaxed on the armrests, I wait for any reaction at all, but I’m given nothing.
“Almost everyone I could part with is already gone, and my team won’t be able to keep functioning if we lose any more people. We’ve brought in the most revenue of any other department over the last few years, and you can expect more of the same over the next five years. We’re projected to triple our profits by then.”
Adrenaline rages through me at the very fact that we will triple in only five years. There’s not a damn word I’ve said that’s exaggerated. My heart hammers in my chest as I stare back at Adrian’s cool gaze. Again, he doesn’t react other than to gesture to continue.
“I’m damn good at my job, and I have good people, and we’re going to keep striving for excellence.”
“Are you done?” he questions.
“There’s no one who can do what we do and keep those clients. No one has the relationships we do. No one has the word of mouth that we do. Replacing any of us would be a mistake.”
I swallow so hard, it’s audible and still, I’m given nothing.
“Adrian.” I whisper his name, on the verge of breaking. Anger simmers but also a hurt I can’t describe.
“We’re on the clock, Suzette,” he warns, the first sign of compassion noted in my name on his lips.
“If you’re going to lay them off,” I say and swallow, “I need to be able to tell them. I need to know what’s going on.”
“That’s what you came here for? To figure out who’s getting fired next?” His tone is unimpressed.
“I want you to keep in mind that we’re a team. We work efficiently and our plan is solid; our performance speaks for itself.”
He eyes me from across his desk, lips pursed. “You’ll have an answer when the team is ready.”
Frustrated, I look him in the eye. “You could at least say you’ll consider it. You can at least tell me you’ll let me know if anyone is in danger.”
“I won’t. It doesn’t matter, Suzette. The team is running the numbers. The numbers are what guide my decision, not emotions. Not a plan, but what has been done and what is comparable. You’re aware you have a list of clients, but they aren’t the only clients and even that list is sellable.”
Heat spreads over the back of my neck. I’m burning with frustration and anger, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “You’re heartless. You know what this means.”
“And you know I bought this company for profit, and it’s been bleeding money for far too long.”
I’m left speechless, staring at him with nothing but resentment.
He won’t give in, and somehow it shocks me. I should have known this about Adrian Bradford. He takes what he wants and does what he wants.
I knew that all too well when he fucked me on this desk the very first day we met. My heart hurts and I put my hand up to cover it, but it’s too late. The damage is already done. “I can’t believe you won’t even give me the respect of letting me know if my team is at risk of losing their livelihoods. If you’re just going to sell off the list, you could tell me that. I’m not fucking stupid. You would know if you already had a buyer.”
Adrian folds his arms over his chest. “I listen because it means something to you. Do you think I would have let anyone else barge in here without a meeting?”
That same sickness from earlier stirs and I say nothing, knowing he’s the one who’s caused it.
“There needs to be a … separation for us.”
“How the hell am I supposed to separate this?” is all I can respond, my voice shaky.
“I want you to be happy,” Adrian says simply, unfolding his arms and pushing the chair out from his desk slightly. “I want you to know I care for you.”
There’s a pause, and my frustration grows again. He cares for me? But can’t answer a simple question? “They need to know as soon as possible so they can prepare,” I press further and Adrian doesn’t budge, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“Would you really sleep with me one night and then fire me in the morning?” I question with my voice tight.
“Suzette,” he says, his voice carrying a note of warning. He doesn’t say no.
Betrayal seems to push out every other feeling I have, making my face hot and my chest hurt. I know a losing argument when I see one and I know Adrian won’t be convinced right now, but I can’t help myself. “The company—”
“It’s after six, Suzette,” he replies, cutting me off. “You’ll have your answer when the team has consolidated numbers and risks.”
“Oh,” I say with a bitter tone. “You can’t tell me now because you’re off the clock. Because it’s six, so now I’m just a lowly fuck toy for you to come in?” Even as the words escape my mouth, I know they cross the line.
“You know that’s not why.” His statement is a string of carefully restrained anger, his grip tightening on the armrests, turning his knuckles white. Good. I hope he’s pissed off. I hope he’s upset like I am.
“I would never speak to you like that,” he continues. “I would never treat you like you didn’t matter. You know that,” he tells me, his tone softening, his pale blue gaze pinning me. “And I don’t like you talking about yourself like that.”
“How am I supposed to—”
“You told me you could separate the two—” I cut him off before he can finish.
“I’m trying to compartmentalize,” I argue back. He’s gripping the desk, obviously upset now. “I’m sorry. I need a moment and I think—” Just as I turn my back to him, ready to get the hell out of here so I can lose it alone in a bathroom stall, he speaks up.
“No. We need to get out of here. We have dinner plans.”
How am I supposed to sit through dinner like this with my stomach in knots and my face burning? I don’t think I can do it. “Maybe we shouldn’t tonight.”
All my emotions tumble over me, filling my body and seeming to spill over into the room. Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t want to cry in front of Adrian. I don’t want to cry here in the office, where we’ve done so many things and where he keeps chipping away at my department and the company I’ve worked so hard to build.
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” I say again weakly, and start to leave.
His voice comes immediately, so deep and commanding that it stops me in my tracks. “Don’t you dare walk out that door.”