Entry-Level Mistress - By Sabrina Darby Page 0,36

jail. Then that thought made me feel guilty because jail hadn’t been my dad’s fault and here I was sleeping with the enemy.

The enemy I couldn’t bring myself to blame completely anymore, for whom I kept trying to find excuses.

The enemy who had suggested I leave clothes at his house.

“Listen, honey, I might have some news.”

“What’s the news?” That old clenching tensed my stomach and tightened the muscles of my shoulders. It was the same constant apprehension in which I’d lived my teen years as every day some new disaster seemed to strike, from a new court date to a scathing article in the newspapers. I wanted to hang up on my father before he could say anything else. I wanted to hide my head deep in the sand. What else was going to fall?

“I’d rather tell you in person. I was thinking I’d come up for a few days next week, maybe go to the Pops, or drive down the cape?”

“I don’t know yet,” I hedged. What I really didn’t know was what Daniel was doing, and if I’d be invited along. How had Daniel become associated with freedom, with a relief from the tensions of my childhood? And what on earth was I doing choosing to spend time with him over my father? A father who had news that, good or bad, was something I’d need to know. Of course, my dad’s visit also meant I’d end up spending a few nights on the futon. “Sure, I mean.”

“Great,” he sounded happier, ready to make plans. I’d always been his baby, daddy’s girl, even when he went to jail. Even when I was rebellious. Even when my mom had tried to turn me against him, to suggest my dad had never been trustworthy. But there was something different now. My secrets, my new life. I was finally an adult too. Something I’d wanted for so many years and now, I finally had. But the taste was bittersweet.

And beneath it, remained that apprehension. What else would fall?

Chapter 11

June rolled to a close and I passed through in a rush of unthinking giddiness. I didn’t want to think. I ignored everything that pointed to coming disaster, the way that my co-workers, especially James, avoided talking to me except when strictly necessary. Whether they were scared of my connection to their boss or derisive of it, it didn’t matter to me. Not when, interspersed with the numerous, time-intensive yet basic tasks I was assigned, there were stolen kisses, embraces, promises. In the evenings, on the weekends, I lived for the circle of Daniel’s arms and the naked length of his body against mine. The few hours when he had an evening dinner meeting or a weekend lunch appointment, I spared a rare visit back to my own apartment. Dealing with the menial tasks of paying bills and doing laundry, I would glance at my unfinished artwork, the sketches for the sculpture project, which now felt so bulky and unpoetic. The art with which I was obsessed was the one created in each living moment.

I rejected my mother’s request to visit Arizona for the fourth of July. I likely would have said no anyway—when I’d left for college I’d been happy to put the craziness of my stepfather and their hippy, commune lifestyle behind—but my decision had more to do with embracing the present than rejecting the past.

It was exciting to be in Boston, and exciting to be part of Hartmann Enterprises. Daniel had made his decision and Janine’s nephew, after much negotiating, had accepted an offer. Hartmann Enterprises was moving into space. That changed everything on the third floor as the conversation expanded from round, futuristic and global to universal. And now incorporated many jokes about The Jetsons. Above all, there was a focus there that had been missing earlier.

The decision also changed things between Daniel and me. Though he was busier, he seemed to want me by his side more, even inviting me to dinner with him and Julian, whose careful observation had warmed into a friendlier relationship. On the days that Daniel didn’t have meetings, I spent lunchtime reading a book while he worked or listening to him talk through plans. Plans that seemed top secret, as if I were the last person in the world with whom he should be sharing them. He trusted me. Or maybe he was testing me, just as he had that first day he had invited me up to his office, had me wait