Good Pet

Tommy chuckles here like he’s drunk on wine. “Good. Because my dumb old dad was threatening to sell my car and all my shit back at home.” Despite this admission of a horrible home life, he has a wide, brimming smile on his face.

“That’s fine since you’re not going back,” I say, surprised by the authority in my voice. Especially since he is now legitimately my boss. “You don’t need any of your stuff. Or anything that reminds you of him.”

“You’re right, I don’t, babe,” he says and turns back around. “I’ve got better things to do. Like going get my baby a ring for her beautiful, precious finger.” With that, Tommy resumes his journey down the hall and toward the elevator. It’s still at a quick speed, but not as quick as before — and it’s got a little spring to it, which I think is cute.

Only when Tommy’s disappeared from view, do I move my eyes elsewhere. To Kane, who has put his hand on my shoulder.

“He’s going to need a secretary of his own now, you know,” says Kane, a wide, daring grin on his face. “You interested in helping him?”

I blush hotly and deeply at this, knowing what my answer would be — that I would want to work for Tommy in this capacity without a second thought — but that would leave Isabella all alone by herself.

“What about…?”

“Isabella?” supplies Kane. “Don’t worry about her. I won’t make her do all the work by herself. I’ve already actually begun looking into possible candidates to take over your job. I’ve already started quietly looking at applications. Both inside this company and out.”

I look at him, not sure whether I should be impressed or terrified. The degree to which that man can think ahead, plan ahead… It’s scary! Downright supernatural!

Kane just smiles, as if he’s had more people than just me look at him that way. I don’t doubt that he has. Not for a second. Not with how insanely successful his business has become since I started working here.

“I had a feeling things would work out this way.”

More like made them work out this way, I think to myself.

By now, the rest of the partners, and indeed the rest of our witnesses, have disappeared back into their offices to get back to work — to get onto something other than our little soap opera. While I’m sure it was better entertainment than most daytime television, there is a company to keep running smoothly, after all.

“So, what do you say?” asks Kane.

I look at him, grateful, and a little terrified by the prospect. “I appreciate the offer. I really do, Kane.” I looked down a bit. “But…”

“But?” Kane sounds genuinely amused.

My eyes meet his again. “I need to check with Tommy first. He is the boss now,” I say, feeling my lips curve into a mischievously joyful smile.

“He sure is,” says Kane, matching my smile and turning to walk away. “And it’s only the best, most obedient thing to do: ask your boss for permission before doing anything.”

With that, he leaves me alone with my thoughts and with my raging libido. I’m dying to see Tommy again, and to get spread across his desk like the pliable, obedient secretary and wife I am.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Tommy

It’s now edging toward the end of the day. After spending my late lunch break walking into downtown Manhattan and going to a jeweler’s there to buy Melissa’s engagement ring, I returned to work. I returned to my office, which is now solely mine, not just something I share with Vanacore. It’s amazing to me how quickly everything was changed around for me. All of her stuff was moved out, and the plaques displaying her names have been removed and replaced with temporary cards with my name on them. They are not as fancy as what I should have on my door, but I can be patient. I can wait for my fine mahogany-wood, and gold-lettered plaques to arrive.

In the hours since returning to my office, I’ve fielded numerous calls from Ms. Vanacore’s client list. During each of them, I informed them of the changeover in “management” so to speak. That I would be running her caseload now, due to an unforeseen change in her circumstances, and her standing within the company. Most seemed understanding and grateful for the fact that I would be taking over since a few of them admitted they weren’t always as comfortable with Vanacore as she wanted to believe they were.

After fielding these phone calls throughout most of the afternoon, I get a personal call on my cell phone around four-thirty in the afternoon. It’s from Dad. Again, I can tell from the ring tone alone; it’s him.

I pick up immediately, knowing I’m ready, willing, and able to face him now. Put this part of my life behind me, as well as the dysfunctional story that goes with it.