“Oh,” she said. “I fucking get it. It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the one who’s replacing me.”
I opened my mouth to speak, unsure of what I was supposed to say. My cheeks burned. I’m such an idiot. I should have gotten breakfast.
“I’m sorry,” I managed, my heart racing. “I… I didn’t know…”
“I’ll bet you didn’t,” she hissed, taking a quick step toward me. I backed up, but she continued advancing. “You’re not anything special, you know. You don’t mean anything to him. He used me up and threw me away like I was… like I was trash to him, and trust me when I say he’ll do the same to a bitch like you.”
My back was almost to the front door. I had no idea what would happen when I reached it. The look in this woman’s eyes was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was like staring at a rabid animal.
“I’m warning you. Run. Run away right now. Just… get the fuck out of here and don’t look back. Preston Harvey will destroy you, just like he destroyed me. You don’t really matter to him. No one does.”
The moment I’d been dreading finally arrived. My shoulders touched the hard wood of the door behind me, and I cringed, holding onto my clutch tightly as the woman stopped and looked me up and down. She made a face of utter disgust, as if she couldn’t bear the sight of what she saw.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “Why aren’t you leaving? Do you want to get hurt—is that it?” She brought her face inches from mine. “Because if that’s what you want, I’m happy to oblige…”
“Jane!” Preston bellowed so loud that for a moment, I wasn’t sure what he’d said had been a word at all. It sounded more like a clap of thunder shaking the walls, threatening to knock down every picture and piece of décor surrounding me. “Get away from her. Now!”
The woman—Jane, I presumed—didn’t look like she was going to follow the order. But then she finally did take a step back and I let out a breath, my whole body trembling in the face of her cold rage.
Preston strode toward us. He was coming so fast and so hard that for a second I thought he was going to plow straight into Jane and knock her off her crystal-embellished Louboutins. But she stood her ground even as he threw open the door behind her, putting himself between the two of us and allowing me to scamper behind his back.
“Get out,” he snarled with such ferocity it sent chills down my spine. “Do not ever come back, and do not ever think that you can speak to my sister like that.”
Jane snorted. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said, but Preston didn’t entertain it. He took her by the arm, firmly but not roughly, and dragged her outside over the threshold, leaving her on the stoop.
“The next time you show up here, or anywhere else that belongs to me, I’m calling security,” he said. “You’re fucking crazy, Jane. That’s what got you fired, not her.”
“Fine,” she sneered. “That’s just great, Preston. Because you know what? I’m calling the cops!” She rubbed her arm where he’d touched her, wincing like he’d pulled it out of place, though it was clear he hadn’t. “This is assault!”
“Leave,” he said before slamming the door right in her face and locking it from the inside. I heard her pound on it a few times before she finally gave up, letting out one last scream as the staccato beat of her heels descended the steps toward Mr. Fletcher’s car.
I looked up at Preston as he turned. The veins in his neck were bulging, as were his muscles. I could see the immense bulge of his biceps, especially under the short sleeves of the t-shirt he was wearing. It draped nicely around his waist, but even so, with his heavy breathing a teasing glimpse of his abs were visible. He was the picture of raw power, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.
Slowly, his gaze shifted to meet mine. He asked, “Are you all right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.” I looked toward the doors again. “I just feel bad for Mr. Fletcher…”
Preston laughed softly. It wasn’t a happy sound, but he did seem at least darkly amused. “Yeah. Me too.”
I watched as he left the front door, making his way toward one of the rooms I hadn’t explored yet. I followed him, watching as he sat down on a very expensive-looking sofa and put his face in his hands, snarling into them. It was a deep, primal sound.
“I take it you wanted me to get breakfast because of that,” I said softly, standing awkwardly in the archway. He nodded without looking up at me. “Was that the woman you were talking about in the car—the one who doesn’t respect your boundaries?”
“Or yours, apparently,” he muttered, running both hands through his hair as he leaned back against the cushions with a sigh. He shook his head. “I’m just glad it’s over, but it’s eight-fifteen and I already need a drink.”
I smiled uneasily. “Do you have a bar? I make a mean Bloody Mary.”
“Not here,” he told me. “This is a place of business, after all. It’s not like in the Sixties, when we did that kind of thing…” Preston hadn’t been alive in the Sixties, and yet he somehow seemed wistful. He waved his hand after a moment. “Coffee would do, if you wouldn’t mind.”
I set my clutch down on one of the armchairs near him. “Where’s the kitchen?” I asked.
“Just through here,” he answered, pointing at a door at the far side of the room. He relaxed while I went through it and entered one of the most glorious kitchens I’d ever seen.
Though it was keeping in style with the Italian countryside theme Preston had going on, it was a gourmet ensemble if I’d ever seen one. The stove looked state-of-the-art and the cabinets, though made of dark wood, all had transparent doors that let one see their contents without having to open them first. The fridge was massive, a French door model with a separate, pull-out freezer down below. Everything was gleaming steel against wood, except for the copper pot rack hanging above a kitchen island with a marble countertop.
I found the coffee machine easily enough. As expected, Preston had an expensive brew tucked away near the filters. The smell alone did more to wake me up than my own cup back at my apartment had, and I brewed enough for two before returning to the sitting room and offering a mug to my stepbrother.
“Look, Maddy, I know this probably looks bad,” he started, clearly still caught up on my arrival. “You weren’t supposed to see any of that. She wasn’t even supposed to be here.”
“Relax. It’s none of my business, and I’m not o
ne to judge,” I replied, thinking back to a little short term office fling I’d had with one of the mail runners in my earlier days at ExecuSpace. “I’m just glad to have this opportunity…”
He smiled. “Well, it looks like your first official duty as my new personal assistant was to get me post-breakup coffee. How’s it feel?”
I laughed. “Patronizing,” I said, sitting down on the same armchair I’d set my clutch onto. Its deep, cocoa-colored leather upholstery was firm, yet soft enough to be comfortable, and the tufted back gave me more support than I’d thought it would. “Still, it’s good to have a job. I do have a question, though.”
Preston took a sip of his coffee. He winced, as if he’d never learned not to let a hot beverage cool. “What’s that?”
I blew on the surface of my own mug, my lips moving before the wiser half of my brain could stop me.