Prey Drive by Jen Stevens
Chapter 36
the lamb
day working at Lancaster Tech. I drove in last night, checked into my hotel, and then laid in bed for hours, obsessing over every single minute of the day. I hate that I was forced to take this position because of my mother’s mistakes. Because I have to bail her out yet again.
I can’t even wade through the resentful emotions I feel toward her to decide if this is something I really, truly want. To join the corporate workforce. To work for the man who has stalked me. All my reservations have been drowned out and pushed aside for the sake of her. Just like they always have.
Despite the mile-long list of cons, this position comes with a lot of pros that are just enough to fuel me though getting dressed, throwing on a layer of makeup, and hailing a cab.
The receptionist jabs her fingers into a few numbers on her phone's insanely large keypad after I tell her the name of the woman I'm supposed to be meeting. She quickly mumbles, “Miss Benvenuti is here to see you,” into the headset, before pressing the button on her earpiece to end the call.
“She'll be right down. You can take a seat to wait for her.”
She offers a tight smile, as if she's irritated that I'm still standing here, then gestures her hand behind me to a waiting area tucked into a corner. I don't have a chance to respond before her phone rings and she's pressing the button on her headset to answer, her attention shifted back to her computer like I don't even exist.
Blowing out a breath, I start toward where she told me to sit and plop down onto a chair, reciting my introduction in my head. I've never worked in an office before. Hell, I've never worked anywhere with a receptionist or a dress code, unless you count the black pants and non-skid shoes rule at the sports bars.
I pick at the uncomfortable, stiff fabric of my simple, thrifted black dress as the elevator dings and a group of women rush out, walking right past me without a second glance. The receptionist doesn't even lift her head to greet them.
“Jovie?” a higher-pitched, feminine voice calls from the elevator.
My head jerks up and finds one of the most beautiful, well-dressed women I've ever seen. Her sheer white blouse and pencil skirt look like they cost more than my car, and they flaunt all her curves in the best way. The colors play perfectly against her smooth, luscious dark skin. She's got to be ten times more put together than I am. When my eyes make it up to her smiling face, I realize I've just been caught ogling her.
“Right this way,” she says with a playful grin, like this happens all the time.
I'm not sure what's come over me. I didn't expect to find a bunch of slugs working for Bash, but I'm surprised he's got so many women on his staff. Stunning, well-educated women. I wonder if that's intentional on his part, shoving down the flicker of jealousy that wants to ignite into flames.
He's free to do whatever he pleases. We aren't exclusive. In fact, I'd do well to remember he stalked me. If any of these women knew that, I doubt they'd care to be much of a threat.
Following her into the elevator, I stand against the back wall and take a deep breath as she hits the button for the twenty-third floor.
“I'm Grace,” she greets as the doors close, holding her hand out.
I take it, shaking awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.”
Grace. What a perfect name for her.
“First days are always a little intimidating, but it'll feel like home by lunch. Everyone here is very nice.” She winks and nudges me in the side with her elbow. “Especially when the CEO recommends you personally.”
The elevator dings and opens, and I'm left wondering if I should take that as some sort of compliment or an underhanded remark. This is exactly why I can't have female friends.
“Yeah, I really don't know him that well,” I try to explain, though it's no use. I've already been labeled as his pet, and I've hardly seen the building.
Grace steps out before me and slows her stride so we're walking together through aisles of cubicles. A few people lift their heads as we pass by, though most stay concentrated on whatever they're working on, uninterested. Such good little worker bees he's got here.
“Trust me, I meant it as a good thing. You must have some sort of superpower, though. Most people can hardly get five uninterrupted minutes with Mr. Lancaster.”
Superpower? Not quite. I've just somehow found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Although, I doubt Grace would see it that way.
She walks us to the end of the aisle, then turns left so we can trail along the wall of offices. Each one is built with floor-to-ceiling glass walls that allow the rest of the floor to catch a view of the city, as well as the people working at their desks inside them. While they're breathtaking, they offer no privacy whatsoever.
I scan the rest of the floor silently and notice there's only one office in the opposite corner, built with large, black walls. I can easily guess that it's his or someone else’s of equal rank. The lack of cubicles in that area also gives it away.
“Eliza says you'll be working from home a majority of the time, but we'll be training you here in the office until you get the hang of it. Just to be sure you've got resources close by if you have any questions,” Grace explains easily without missing a beat as we power-walk through the building. I have no idea how she's doing it so effortlessly in her three-inch heels while I'm struggling to keep up and breathe wearing flats.
“It usually only takes a week or two for trainees to get a handle on things, but we're here for you as long as you need. Did you have any trouble finding a hotel?”
Her eyes flick over to me, expecting an answer. And for some reason, I blush. I can't help it. I did find a hotel room. It was the cheapest within walking distance of the building, and this one week is going to max out my emergency credit card.
“Oh, yeah. No problems there.”
Grace just smiles again and continues like nothing is awry. She stops in front of an open doorway at the end and swings her arm for me to enter first.
“This is me.”
She sashays around me and behind the large, tidy desk, then falls into her chair and holds up a stack of papers. “I received all your paperwork through email. Thanks for getting those back to me so promptly. I just need to grab copies of your IDs and bother you for a couple more signatures, and then I can bring you over to Eliza.”
I nod and take the seat across from her, already digging through my purse for my license and social security card that she requested. We spend the next hour going over new employee paperwork and she hands me my new computer.
“Welcome aboard Lancaster Tech. It truly is a great place to work. And I'm not just saying that because I'm in charge of HR,” she adds with a wink.
I laugh nervously, pushing away my doubts about how great of a company it really could be with a man like Bash at the head of it. Looking around, everyone seems pretty content. And I've worked at plenty of horribly run places.
“Eliza will be showing you the ropes today, then tomorrow, we'll get you into the training center to go over your daily tasks and procedures. Your position is a little unique in that you'll be working directly with Mr. Lancaster, so Eliza will coach you on how that will go,” Grace explains as we practically jog through cubicles again to get to another office along the perimeter of the floor.
An older woman sits at a large desk in an office nearly identical to Grace's. She's typing away at her keyboard, glasses perched at the end of her nose and a pen stuck into her messy hair.
“Eliza, this is Jovie Benvenuti,” Grace pipes up when the woman continues to ignore us standing in her doorway. She's much more reserved speaking to Eliza, which makes me assume this woman is higher up in the ranks.
Weathered blue eyes snap up to address her intruders. She unashamedly does a full scan of my body and I'm forced to stand there quietly as her gaze rakes over me. I decide that having her full attention is much more intimidating than being ignored by her completely.
Once she's finished, she turns to Grace.
“Thanks, Grace. I'll let you know when we're done,” she says with a tight-lipped smile. The deep timbre of her voice takes me off guard, though I make an effort not to show it.
Eliza waits until Grace shuts the door before she speaks again.
“So, you're Jovie,” she muses in her New York accent, leaning back against her huge computer chair. “Your mom got a thing for eighties rock music?”
My eyebrows fly into my hairline, shocked at her blunt joke. It's not like I haven't heard it before, but it's the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth. She's obviously happy with herself, given the smile she's wearing that widens when she sees my reaction.
“You could say that. My sister's name is Halen.”
Eliza barks out a laugh, slapping her desk hard enough to startle me. “That's unfortunate.”
Twisting my lips, I nod, unsure if this means she's warmed up to me already or if I'm just the butt of everyone's joke.
“I'm Eliza, Sebastian's Executive Assistant,” she explains when she sobers back up. “And you're our newest Community Outreach Manager…”
Her tone is dripping with mockery, as if she knows just as well as I do that I have zero experience in a position like this. But I'm not going to fall into whatever trap she's trying to set. Squaring my shoulders, I plaster on my biggest, fakest smile and nod my head. “That's right.”
“I gotta be honest, I didn't expect to see you standing before me when he called and told me to find you a job. I figured he was just doing a favor for one of his family friends. You know how these rich, hoity-toity women are...” She scowls and throws her hand up, gesturing at nothing in particular. “I should have known he'd throw me a curve ball, especially after he bought that house for you.”
She looks back down at my clothes and smiles, as if the thrifted dress somehow pleases her.
“Thank you… I think,” is all I can muster. This is not at all how I thought my first day would go.
“It's a compliment. No one understands how you got on his radar, let alone a personal referral. I can't wait to hear what they all say now that they've seen you. Don't even bother with them, though. They're a bunch of gossips.”
“Why is it so surprising that Bash—I mean, Sebastian—referred me?” I voice the burning question out loud, because if she's speaking off the cusp, so will I.
“I don't know what he has you call him in private, but here, he's Mr. Lancaster,” she corrects carefully, and I immediately want to defy her, just to prove I can.
I'm growing tired of all the insulting assumptions. If these women knew what kind of man Bash really was, they wouldn't be so surprised that he bothers himself with someone as low as me.
What sort of act is he putting on here?
“He doesn't talk to anyone. As far as they know, he doesn't have a social life outside of what his father forces him to do. He's like a recluse. Don't get me wrong, I love the boy like one of my own. He's built this place from the ground up with an honest intention that I've never seen in any of these other New York assholes. But he's been a shell of a person since his sister died.”
I consider her words for a moment, realizing how little I know about the man who haunts me. The woman before me seems to provide these details to me as if I’ve already been made privy to them, but she obviously has no idea what the relationship is like between Bash and I. Essentially nonexistent.
I had no idea his sister died. Or that he had a sister at all. And while I know he owns my house, I can’t seem to process the fact that he bought it for me. But it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that he's been intentional about Lancaster Tech. That much was obvious when I researched the company before I knew it was his.
“I'm only telling you this because he's obviously got a soft spot for you. Don't go messing it up unless you want to deal with me and about a hundred other women knocking on your door.” She levels me with a threatening look, then breaks into a smile. “I'm just messing with you. You'd only have to deal with me,” she makes sure to add.
Before I can get out a retort to her insulting lecture, the door swings open. Bash stands in the doorway, looking as flawless as ever in a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and black dress slacks. I assume this is his usual attire when he isn't out stalking women, though I actually prefer the dark jeans and hoodies.
He smiles endearingly at Eliza and walks into the small room, his presence sucking all the air out like a vortex.
“Are you threatening my new employee? Should I find someone else to train her?” he jokes, his tone a tad too heavy.
“I'm just playing,” she dismisses.
“Yeah, the same way a tiger plays with its food before eating it,” Bash quips. He stops behind my chair, tightly wrapping his fingers around the back of it.
Eliza doesn't deny his accusation, and I'm forced to shove the balloon of irritation that's quickly inflating in my chest again at the easy, familiar banter they share at my expense.
First of all, I can be a tiger too, thank you very much.
And second, why the hell am I jealous that my literal stalker is friendly with another, much older woman?
Let me say that, again, for the people in the back of my hard, distorted head: he's. My. Stalker.
Pull it together, Jovie.
Their continued conversation fades into background noise as I go through my own mental breakdown, and I don't bother tuning back in until I hear Bash say, “Can I borrow her for a moment?”
Eliza looks slightly taken off guard for exactly one second before she recovers herself and nods. “You're the boss.”
Bash moves his hand from the chair to my shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze. It's the simplest gesture. So subtle, many people wouldn't even notice. But Eliza does. Her gaze burns into his fingers, so hot that I swear he feels it on his skin. And he doesn’t pull away like I thought he would. Instead, he slides that same hand over my shoulder and down my arm, until he reaches my hand and entwines his fingers with mine.
I don't know what game he's playing here, but it feels like the gesture is more of a message for Eliza than it is for me.
She pries her gaze away from our interlocked hands and turns toward her computer, lips pursed stubbornly. “Let me know when I can get back to training,” she dismissively calls over her shoulder as we walk out the door.
As soon as we're back in the main area, I pull away from his grasp.
“What was that?” I hiss, crossing my arms.
Bash continues walking a step ahead of me, completely unaffected.
“We'll talk in my office.”