utterly frustrating and Elle wasn’t sure how she was going to take it much longer.
She went home achy and needy every night. Poor Garfield asked if she was on drugs—she was so distant and distracted.
Friday came along with no sign of Darren anywhere in the office. Maxwell was curiously absent too as Elle walked through to her cube.
Fred interrupted her just seconds after she settled in, eyes red and blurry. “How are we doing?”
“Maxwell made the final adjustments and we’re testing a new prototype. Hopefully this one won’t leak ants and worms.”
Fred’s eyes took on a wild look. “I’m holding the both of you personally responsible if we cannot come in under budget. The success of the company may rely on this. I spent months on this project and you and Maxwell are tearing it apart.” He turned from the cube before she could reply, already moving down the aisle, his voice fading as he said, “Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”
When Maxwell didn’t show for lunch, Elle made herself some oatmeal and hunkered down to crunch more numbers. She’d just begun an email to the suppliers when Sally stopped at her cube. “Just got a call from Fred, he wanted to talk about his plans for me.”
Elle ignored her and just kept typing.
“He said something about that big promotion and that he was looking for more candidates. The pool wasn’t looking as good as he’d hoped.”
Elle fumbled over a few keystrokes but kept typing. “I didn’t think you were interested.”
“Oh, well. Surprise!”
“Healthy competition is a good thing.” Elle gritted through her teeth, giving up all pretense of typing. If Fred didn’t think she was up for the job, it was a death sentence.
Sally’s eyes flicked to the screen and those ruby red lips tilted in an evil smile. “Sorry to have interrupted your important communication. You might want to spell check it before you leave. I know you were raised in a barn, but we really want to put our best foot forward.”
Elle set her teeth and held back a very unladylike retort.
Sally’s smile widened as she pulled a black envelope from her purse. “Oh, this came for you today. I signed for it– didn’t— didn’t think the delivery guy needed to walk all the way down here just for you.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t want him to strain himself,” Elle muttered snagging the envelope from Sally.
“Really, you shouldn’t have personal things being delivered for you here.”
Sally’s voice faded as Elle recognized the envelope. Those colors, black background with the red watermark of a shield were unmistakable. Shivers raced down her spine as she saw her name in script across the front.
No stamp. No address. Just The Den’s shield and her name.
Goosebumps ran up her arms as she took out the single piece of red cardstock inside.
You are invited by the Master to The Den.
10:00 p.m.
Dress appropriately.
No identifier existed. It could have come from anyone—Maybe the man in the hall from the club.
Those small black letters on the elegant paper electrified her. Tonight?
Sally sneered at her. “Oohh, The Den, huh? I never figured you for a slut.”
Unable to keep herself from blushing, Elle slammed the invitation back in the envelope. “Anything else, Sally ?” When the woman didn’t answer immediately, Elle turned back to her computer and began typing again.
Chapter Twelve
Slut...
The word had bounced around in her head all day. One minute she was fighting her racing pulse and the excitement building inside of her as she planned what she’d wear; the next she was cursing Sally and her mouth, ready to send a reply saying she would decline the invite.
But the woman had a point.
She’d gone from no romantic entanglements to three different men, panting after each one like a dog in heat. Granted, Maxwell hadn’t shown a bit of interest since their time in the conference room. Yet, she was fighting to keep from throwing herself at him
She went home achy and needy every night. Poor Garfield asked if she was on drugs—she was so distant and distracted.
Friday came along with no sign of Darren anywhere in the office. Maxwell was curiously absent too as Elle walked through to her cube.
Fred interrupted her just seconds after she settled in, eyes red and blurry. “How are we doing?”
“Maxwell made the final adjustments and we’re testing a new prototype. Hopefully this one won’t leak ants and worms.”
Fred’s eyes took on a wild look. “I’m holding the both of you personally responsible if we cannot come in under budget. The success of the company may rely on this. I spent months on this project and you and Maxwell are tearing it apart.” He turned from the cube before she could reply, already moving down the aisle, his voice fading as he said, “Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”
When Maxwell didn’t show for lunch, Elle made herself some oatmeal and hunkered down to crunch more numbers. She’d just begun an email to the suppliers when Sally stopped at her cube. “Just got a call from Fred, he wanted to talk about his plans for me.”
Elle ignored her and just kept typing.
“He said something about that big promotion and that he was looking for more candidates. The pool wasn’t looking as good as he’d hoped.”
Elle fumbled over a few keystrokes but kept typing. “I didn’t think you were interested.”
“Oh, well. Surprise!”
“Healthy competition is a good thing.” Elle gritted through her teeth, giving up all pretense of typing. If Fred didn’t think she was up for the job, it was a death sentence.
Sally’s eyes flicked to the screen and those ruby red lips tilted in an evil smile. “Sorry to have interrupted your important communication. You might want to spell check it before you leave. I know you were raised in a barn, but we really want to put our best foot forward.”
Elle set her teeth and held back a very unladylike retort.
Sally’s smile widened as she pulled a black envelope from her purse. “Oh, this came for you today. I signed for it– didn’t— didn’t think the delivery guy needed to walk all the way down here just for you.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t want him to strain himself,” Elle muttered snagging the envelope from Sally.
“Really, you shouldn’t have personal things being delivered for you here.”
Sally’s voice faded as Elle recognized the envelope. Those colors, black background with the red watermark of a shield were unmistakable. Shivers raced down her spine as she saw her name in script across the front.
No stamp. No address. Just The Den’s shield and her name.
Goosebumps ran up her arms as she took out the single piece of red cardstock inside.
You are invited by the Master to The Den.
10:00 p.m.
Dress appropriately.
No identifier existed. It could have come from anyone—Maybe the man in the hall from the club.
Those small black letters on the elegant paper electrified her. Tonight?
Sally sneered at her. “Oohh, The Den, huh? I never figured you for a slut.”
Unable to keep herself from blushing, Elle slammed the invitation back in the envelope. “Anything else, Sally ?” When the woman didn’t answer immediately, Elle turned back to her computer and began typing again.
Chapter Twelve
Slut...
The word had bounced around in her head all day. One minute she was fighting her racing pulse and the excitement building inside of her as she planned what she’d wear; the next she was cursing Sally and her mouth, ready to send a reply saying she would decline the invite.
But the woman had a point.
She’d gone from no romantic entanglements to three different men, panting after each one like a dog in heat. Granted, Maxwell hadn’t shown a bit of interest since their time in the conference room. Yet, she was fighting to keep from throwing herself at him
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