I’m the CEO. Technically, I should have no role to play in an administrative process. I have no excuse to be a part of it. I don’t want to set Blaire off on a tirade about how I’m stepping on her toes when the contract clearly states that I won’t be.
But I can’t stop thinking about her being so close to me. That I could just pick up the phone, dial an extension, and hear her voice. It would not be a calm and friendly voice, of course. She’d be bitchy and cold as usual, but I can’t get enough of her, no matter how much I set her on fire.
Erica comes in with a few files I’ve requested, snapping me out of my daydreams about Blaire. I’m disappointed that she hasn’t come up to see me yet, but why would she?
“Can you set up a meeting with Ms. Crawford for today? Check my calendar and see when I’ll be available to see her,” I tell Erica.
“Of course, Mr. Davenport,” she replies and stops in her tracks. She was on her way out.
Ever since that night at the bar, things have been different between us. I’m trying my best to not treat her any differently and forgive her the lapse in judgment—and I hoped that she would appreciate my behavior, but it seems like she wants to try even harder.
Erica has gotten sweeter. More attentive. More protective of my calendar. She insists on going out of her way to collect my laundry from the dry cleaners. Twice this week, she has traveled across the city to get me the lox and bagel I like from a particular deli. I didn’t even ask for it. I’m not sure what the right thing to do is.
It’s not like she’s bad at her job. It’s not like she’s doing anything wrong, really. I just know from the doe-eyed look that she’s hoping someday I’ll see her the way she sees me.
I wish I could just shake her by her shoulders and tell her it’s not going to happen. Sometimes, the wires don’t connect and people don’t match. No matter how pretty she is and how short her dresses get, I will feel nothing but an objective admiration for Erica’s good looks. Only from a distance.
“Yes?” I say now as she stands before me. I can sense she has something to say.
“Mr. Davenport, I have a few free hours this afternoon while you’re in that meeting with Sky J Associates later. I could check in on those paintings at the gallery. They were supposed to frame and ship them two days ago and…”
Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I’ve overly involved her in my personal requirements. Why does she need to know which paintings I’ve bought recently? I shouldn’t have told her about them.
“That won’t be necessary. I’m sure they’ll email me when they’re ready to be shipped. Besides, I’m not in any rush.”
Erica nods, but she’s still just standing there with her hands pressed together.
“Is there something else you want to tell me?” I ask.
I notice the way she looks over her shoulder before she approaches my desk. Honestly, I’m not getting a good feeling about this.
She looks like she’s trying to gather her courage to say something.
“Mr. Davenport…I just want to tell you that I’m not sorry about that night.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That night at the bar. I know I took you by surprise. You weren’t expecting to see me.”
“No, I wasn’t expecting to see you there. It’s my neighborhood.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Maybe I should have told you I’d be there.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s a free country, Erica; you can have a drink wherever you like.”
“But I was there on purpose. We never…really see each other outside the office, and I thought it would be nice for us to hang out.”
I put down the pen that’s been in my hand this whole time. Then I sit back in my chair.
“I don’t hang out with my staff, Erica, you should know that by now.”
She licks her lips nervously and glances at her shoes. Somehow, she gathers the courage to look up at me again.
“Is it a crime to want to get to know you better? I already feel like I know you pretty well,” she replies in a low voice.
I wasn’t expecting this from her. I didn’t think she would be this direct about it. I clench my jaw and glare.
“I’m your boss. You are my employee, and whatever fantasy you’ve made