Misunderstood (A Neighbor from Hell YA #1) - R.L. Mathewson Page 0,1
her was pressing the “close doors” button and saving them both from being trampled to death.
“Thank you,” Jamie said, sighing with relief as she leaned back against the cool metal elevator walls as the doors slid closed.
“You’re very welcome,” he murmured, joining her by the back wall. “Why didn’t you Google him?”
“Didn’t have enough time,” she admitted. “I planned on doing that in the waiting room.”
“What would you have done if he threw you out?” he asked, sounding curious as he gestured toward the heavy bag in her arms. “What’s in the bag?”
“Donuts, pastries, and just in case those didn’t work, about a dozen egg sandwiches. I’m not really sure what I would have done if he had me thrown out,” Jamie said, absently noting that three of the fingers and the back of his left hand were paler than his right hand.
“Just got the cast off. Broke my arm and a few fingers playing touch football at a family barbecue,” he said, answering her unspoken question.
“Oh,” Jamie mumbled, unable to help but frown even as she had to wonder how he managed to break his arm playing a contactless sport.
“What’s so special about this magazine?” he asked as they watched the numbers above the elevator door light up as they slowly made their way to the twentieth floor.
“It’s my last chance,” she found herself admitting.
“That sounds ominous,” he murmured absently as he reached over and plucked the bag out of her arms.
“Thank you,” she said, unable to help but wince as the blood rushed back to her fingers. “I want to be a writer,” she found herself admitting.
“And you think this is the only way to make that happen?” he asked, sounding curious as he shifted the bag to one arm.
“No, but I need a way to pay my bills and I was hoping to be able to do something that I loved to make that happen,” Jamie admitted even as she couldn’t help but wonder if she was wasting her time.
Maybe she wasn’t meant to be a writer.
Maybe she should–
“Is that what you were planning on telling him to get the interview?” he asked, breaking into the depressing thoughts that kept her up most nights.
“I honestly don’t know what I’m going to say to him. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” Jamie admitted, struggling to take her next breath as she watched the light go out for floor nineteen, seconds before number twenty was suddenly illuminated and she thought that she was going to be sick.
“Fair enough,” he murmured as the elevator doors slid open and she suddenly found herself being herded out of the elevator and toward an imposing woman sitting behind a large oak desk and–
Jamie found herself looking at the most amazing picture that she’d ever seen hanging on the wall behind the woman that really didn’t look happy to see her. She’d probably seen thousands of landscape photos in her life, but she’d never seen one quite like this one. The details were…
Enough to make her momentarily forget that she really couldn’t go through with this.
“No, wait! I can’t do this. This was a mistake,” Jamie said in a rush as he guided her over to the desk when all she wanted to do was turn around and make a run for it.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, lying to her because they both knew no such thing!
“I really won’t though,” she mumbled hollowly only to whimper when they reached the desk and–
“Good morning, Amy. I’m going to need you to cancel my conference call with Beijing this morning and see if you can reschedule the meeting with the Paris office this afternoon,” the man that wouldn’t let her run away, said.
“That shouldn’t be a problem, Mr. Bradford,” Amy said with a warm smile as she handed him a stack of messages while Jamie stood there, trying to make sense out of what was happening.
This was Sebastian Bradford? Jamie thought numbly as she looked at him, really looked at him, taking in his meticulously combed short black hair, the thin scar just above his right eyebrow, the way that his eyes lit up with amusement, and the way that he filled out his suit to perfection and swallowed hard, because she’d honestly been expecting a portly old man who would take pity on her and
Oh, God…
“Would you like me to have breakfast sent up?” Amy asked, already reaching for the phone to do just that when the man that Jamie was here to beg