Unwrapping Holly - Page 78

His lips moved, but no sound came out. He looked terrified.

“You gave her my job, then you gave her my car, too.” I took another step forward. “Holy SHIT Malcolm! You’re a special breed of asshole, aren’t you?”

By now a tiny crowd had gathered. It was only a small handful of people, but it was enough that word would spread through the office like wildfire. Not that I cared.

“Holly,” Malcolm managed. “Holly, listen.”

“Get the fuck out of here, Malcolm.”

I took another step. He retreated, bumping into the partition behind him.

“Holly, I—”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”

He turned and scrambled away, tripping over his own feet in the process. I watched with satisfaction as Malcolm sprawled to the floor of my little cubicle row, then got up and sprinted his way toward the elevators.

It was unreal. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before! And yet… I wondered who else had. I hurt to think about how many of my coworkers might be in the know, and how badly I’d been played.

I was shaking with rage, or adrenaline, or whatever it was. And all of a sudden, I had a massive headache.

“Merry Christmas,” I said, whipping around to face to the little crowd. They scattered so quickly it was almost hilarious.

I would’ve laughed had my skull not been pounding.

Forty

HOLLY

The elevator took forever, but it was my last obstacle to being free. The last thing standing between me and a long weekend away. Between me and Christmas… and everything that came along with it.

Between me and the boys.

My body still shook with adrenaline, but now my mind raced too. I was looking just as forward to Christmas — with all three of my boyfriends — as I was to spending a few quiet nights out of the City. It was like having two vacations. Two very distinct, very enjoyably payoffs after a long month of working, shopping, and wrapping gifts for dozens of people I’d never even know or meet.

The parking garage was all but deserted — a byproduct of the last day of work. The higher-ups had all taken off early in the week, driving or flying out to their houses in the Hamptons or upstate New York to have beautiful holidays with big, happy families. That left the rest of us — the ones still doing the bulk of the work — to tie up loose ends.

I was walking down the elevator hallway when I heard it: a noise, somewhere behind me. It was a distinct shuffling. The rhythmic scuff of heels on cement.

The sound disappeared the second I stopped walking.

Was it an echo?

That made sense, although the hallway had never echoed before. Then again, I’d never seen the garage this empty.

Slowly I started again, listening intently. The noise still reached my ears. It was softer this time… but still there.

Don’t turn around… don’t turn around… don’t turn—

I picked up the pace, until I was practically jogging rather than walking. And sure enough, the noise did too. Whoever was following me wasn’t being careful, which meant either they weren’t all that good at being quiet… or they just didn’t care.

Both possibilities terrified me.

Holly, go!

I kept going, too scared to look back. Too frightened of what I might see, of losing even a few precious seconds of distance between us in the time it took to turn around. The mouth of the building yawned before me, and through it, filtered grey daylight. I focused on the doorway, until finally I was running…

I broke out into the street, looking like a madwoman as I sprinted across the sidewalk. With throngs of people milling around in every direction, I felt safe enough to whip my head around and risk a glance…

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